My Facebook and Twitter feeds are constantly flooded with updates about going to the gym. Part of me feels like being a smart-ass and asking, “If you don’t post about going to the gym, did it not happen?” Personally, while these people are advertising to the world that they’re sweating

“Why yes,” you say, “A free meditation class in Greenpoint is exactly what I was looking for.” If it wasn’t… get to it post-haste. It just might change your life. Maybe you’ve been thrown off going to meditation because the idea of sitting through all the dopey pageantry sounds like

I’m smelling a slight stench coming from the direction of my armpits, and I suddenly realize that it’s not my son’s dirty diaper, or some food gone bad that might be lodged in our couch, it’s my sweatshirt.  I’ve worn it five days in a row now.  I can’t help

Back in my early 30s living in New York, I subsisted on slices from the pizzeria downstairs, copious amounts of coffee, and wine. Fitness was simple…I belonged to no gym, but my workout consisted of running in some form or another: to the subway, from the subway, up and down

If you want me to like you, you don’t have to take me out to dinner or buy me things. You don’t have to have a fancy job, or live in a trendy neighborhood. You don’t even have to dress well. Besides finding someone who can feed me, there’s just

Hooray summertime. It makes venues out of the streets and parks that once were blistering nightmares of wind and cold. Now that the sun has peeked out from behind its gray hiding spot we can start using the limited outdoors New York has for a bit of R n’ R.

As someone who will go to the shadiest nail places in town just to get a good discount, I’m not exactly a spa savvy person. It’s hard to fit massages and manicures into a tight budget. After all, it is the ultimate indulgence. But what better way to beat down