Last week I was down in L.A. visiting my cousin. He happens to live downtown in one of the raddest lofts I’ve ever seen. The first night I was there, we finagled our way into a fashion show at an old church. There, I saw the L.A. types of

Oh, God! Is it really Fleet Week already again this weekend? Meaning those obnoxious planes are going to be making all of that noise all over our precious San Francisco for four whole days? And there will be crowds of people and a whole bunch of militant idiots clogging the

When I envision Boston, I picture every Red Sox fan walking around with a shirt containing this logo.   I love New York. I was born and raised here, currently live here and I might die here next week. (Word of advice: stay on a woman’s good side.) Yet the

Saturday was Ted Kennedy’s funeral.  It took place about a mile from my house in Boston and for days before low flying surveillance helicopters made me feel like I was in the end of the Ice Cube video. I remember on the day of the inauguration, hearing that Ted Kennedy

Well, folks, I didn’t make it down to the orgy that was the Topshop opening the other day. As the result of some profoundly poor decision-making last week, I had one of the more brutal hangovers in recent memory all day yesterday.  Needless to say, feeling as I did I