Category Archives: manhattan

I Threw Up In My Mouth A Little

You know, I don’t really like to discuss politics. Sure, like most Americans, I guzzle Internet blogs and network news the way my car guzzles biodiesel. The way I drink Gatorade before I go do rugged outdoorsy things on my farm. The way my mortgage guzzles up all my savings. But I don’t really like to talk about politics unless somebody asks. Or if there’s a rally. Or if I’m sitting next to a stranger on the subway who looks like they need to hear my opinion. Thing is that every four years (except ’96 I guess) all of a sudden there’s nothing else to talk about.

John McCain is that wizard guy from the last Matrix movie.

My lovely co-blogger had an interesting experience yesterday, which it’s my privilege to relay to you. (Hopefully you weren’t going to blog about this too, Honor! KTHXBAI) After the barista handed over her morning coffee, she went to get a straw. The barista: “No time for a straw! Run, before you’re locked in!” Confusion ensued. As it turned out, Sarah Palin was crossing the street nearby, or some such BS, and the Secret Service had decided that this necessitated locking the doors at Starbucks for several minutes.

A quick “community moment” ensued. “God, Sarah Palin is just awful,” somebody said, and everyone else nodded and made agreeing noises. Honor’s analysis: “Well, when an entire Starbucks in Manhattan is against you, there’s no way you’ll ever succeed in America!” As New Yorkers, despite the fact that we are probably the most diverse group of people in the world — and the fact that, as a result, we all hate each other with a burning fury that makes, say,  forming an ORDERLY LINE to buy drinks at the BAR you STUPID ASSHOLES, impossible — it’s important to remember that we somehow emerge from this festering rage-stew with this weird left-wing consensus that practically everyone in the city agrees on. That’s why, periodically, we have to broadcast our political views to the remainder of the country so that we can be reminded that nobody else believes in them, not even a little.

In other words, it’s important to occasionally succumb to the urge to get down and throw a little mud. Start calling yourself a hockey mom. Overuse the term “Main Street” in economic analysis. It’s a healthy outlet for urges that would otherwise make me punch babies. But we have a serious problem, ladies and gentlemen. The state of political discourse is cratering, to quote Letterman’s unbelievably awesome seven-minute new-butt-ripping of McCain. Here’s why.

This weekend, Barack Obama will apparently be having a debate with an empty chair, as John McCain will apparently be too busy fixing the economy with his BARE HANDS or something. In the morning, USA Today will run an article saying that Middle America really identified with the chair, which was made of a sturdy mahogany with a subtle grain, and not Barack Obama — who was, if I’ve been reading the news correctly for the last four years, slurring his answers on account of his mouth will be full of pâté and cognac and sleeping with your daughter when you’re not home. Fox may accidentally report that he was wearing a lapel pin with the Iranian flag and set fire to a bald eagle. This shit, in a word, is fucked up.

So it is with a heavy heart that I tell you today: I am suspending my political blogging activities and catching the next flight to Washington, where I will remain until I have personally resolved this election. (Note to Secret Service wiretap agents reading this: Not in the way you’re thinking!) This is not a time to be a blogger — it’s a time to be a leader. P.S., see me on Katie Couric tonight! I’ll be wearing rouge. Don’t tell Dave, ‘kay?


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Filed under manhattan, politricks, real life, Uncategorized

Bloomberg Returns 3: The Rise Of Taj

So, I don’t know if you heard, but I’m calling off my mayoral campaign. Why? Word has it that Mike “I bought all the laws and now I keep them in my basement” Bloomberg is going to run for his own job again, even though it’s illegal for him to do so.

Oh my God, Adames was right the WHOLE TIME!

I’ve got to hand it to him. It’s a really clever plan. For one thing, he already has the endorsement of the entire media, issued directly from their secret cabal three hundred feet below Park Slope. They even said it was a great idea! So even if he doesn’t win the election, how would we know?

So let’s just let him have it. Do you have a better idea? Ray “If elected, I promise to kill every single person that didn’t vote for me… with my bare hands” Kelly? My man Kwame? You don’t have a better idea. Look at you. You’re reading a blog in your underwear right now. You don’t know anything about anything. If somebody gave you a $2 million studio apartment in Bushwick you probably wouldn’t even know what do with it. Which is lucky, because you aren’t getting it. Or, um, any other apartment, on account of more condos. Sorry.

Ray “that includes children and people who forgot to register” Kelly
Ray “I know where you live: New York” Kelly
Ray “I have a laser on my desk that can burn your face off from across town” Kelly
Ray “Welcome to my labyrinth of murder” Kelly
Ray “Additional funny middle name about how he’s sort of a fascist” Kelly

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Filed under manhattan, real life, Zach

How To Be A Beloved Contemporary American Writer!

I’ve deliberated long and hard and finally decided that actually, most of the formula for being a super-successful published essayist is to have a few stories to tell about various shit that happened to you in your life, and to be able to prove that you are qUiRkY! Congratulations FUCKING EVERYBODY. Time for us to call up our literary agents.

I made mix-tapes as a teen and have a cursory knowledge of history too Sarah Vowell, b.f.d.!

[photo: Getty Images via]

Writing a book used to mean something. “I AM GOING TO WRITE A BOOK!!” used to be met with gasps and applause, and the endeavor itself used to command respect. But now, all you have to do is live long enough to have at least 10 wAcKy AnEcDoTeS to tell and be able to get to a Borders to read that dumb NaNoWriMo guy’s book.

How to write a book without the only thing that makes a book!

"How to write a book without the only thing that makes a book!"

In one short month, you will have your very own book of essays that other people can buy and chuckle at and be like

“OMG that is SO something that happens to people!” or

“NUH UH I had a problem relating to my parents/boss/French people one time too! LOL!”

Has anyone else read Sarah Vowell’s book “Take the Cannoli?” Did anyone else notice that it was just a bunch of stories about different stuff that ANYBODY could have written? She didn’t escape from a war, she didn’t discover any scientific discoveries, and she definitely didn’t figure out that having bangs and wearing makeup helps you be pretty. But she did grow up, go to high school, and have some friction with her dad and some trouble learning to drive! Sound familiar? WHATEVER. Also, yeah RIGHT you have a lisp and are allergic to gluten, and played the recorder. TOO ADORABLE, I AM NOT BUYING IT.

Then there’s David Sedaris, who unlike Sarah Vowell is actually really funny and a good writer and related to someone else funny and famous. However, he’s also just an OCD dude from the middle of nowhere in North Carolina of all places who did a lot of drugs, worked as a furniture mover, dropped out of art school, and sort of walked around for a while. JOIN THE CLUB, GUY.

So…why are these two living the good life and not having to wake up early to go to a job? Telling stories that anyone could tell and getting to be on national radio like every day? What is the secret to their relatively random success? I need to know, because getting famous enough to be able to live in like, Flatiron and not have to get up at 8 am is basically the most pressing goal on my plate right now.

Well, friends it’s pretty simple. Do you want not to be REALLY famous but at least get to be read by snobby kids on the F train and able to get published in NY Mag or whatever if you need vacay money? Then like Vowell and Sedaris, you need the magic ingredient. The magic ingredient is what qualifies you for publication other than being a hipster who loves to speak in public (HELLO, OVER HERE!).

DUH it’s Ira Glass.

King of Anecdotal Entertainment


Ira Glass, listen, I’m pretty sure that listening to/inserting poignant music into anecdotes from across the country and having a professorial speaking voice is not the same as being smart. So why don’t you just take off those sexy foxy salt and peppery used to have a ponytail infectious chuckle having smart guy Elvis Costello looking fake glasses and stop haunting my dreams with your unwelcome but undeniable sex appeal, k?

David Sedaris on Ira Glass:”I owe everything to Ira….My life just changed completely, like someone waved a magic wand. (”

Um yeah, no shit it did. I wish Ira Glass would wave his magical wand all over me too (yeah that’s right). One minute you’re reading your diary at an open mic night and like, working odd jobs, and then two seconds later you’re all over the mags and radio and getting artsy smoking pics taken of you! Pretty sweet if you ask me, and just the excuse I’ll need to take up smoking again in another 25 years…

"Ilive in France, but it's soo haaaaard!"


What if you don’t think you can meet Ira Glass? What then?

DO NOT PANIC. You just have to revert back to the time-tested approach of just being really pretty. Being pretty will still get you everything you want, including popularity and a book deal even if you grew up in the suburbs and your book revolves around a story about a boss who was pretty mean to you. It also doesn’t hurt to happen to work in book publishing while you are being so pretty.


Oh um hey Sloane Crosley….sorry…I didn’t see you there, how awkward…. umm, you ARE really pretty though…


Filed under general complaints, Honor!, jealousy, manhattan

I’m Running For Mayor

Here at Smackdown HQ, things have been decidedly sedate lately. Probably it’s the heat, or the fact that our air conditioner, if one person is in the room, keeps the living room just cold enough that you can sit in it comfortably if you never move. So we’ve settled into a sort of summer hibernation (like a regular hibernation, but opposite). Stumbling home, dripping with sweat, exhausted, our hair held on mostly by duct tape at this point, sitting on the couch for a few cartoons, then waking up at 8:45, still on the couch, and realizing there’s no time to shower.

Well, anyway, let’s spice this shit up. As you may or may not know, next year is an election year, which means our wunderkind mayor will be forced to leave office. Or Manhattan will secede from the boroughs and elect him mayor-for-life; that wouldn’t surprise me either. Still! There’s going to be an election, and without Our Man Bloomy in the running, let’s have a quick look at the contenders and their pitches…

Helen Marshall
“I was on All In The Family”

Christine Quinn
“Let’s be fair, I may be corrupt but you haven’t had a lesbian mayor yet”

John Castidimatis
“Hey, electing an unattractive billionaire worked last time”

Marty Markowitz
“Good Shabbos! Oh, fuck, I’m not supposed to be in a car.”

Tony Avella
“I fear teenagers and change”

Ray Kelly
“Vote for me, I’m fucking terrifying”

Betsy Gotbaum
“My name used to be Betsy Flower… no, really”

Fernando Ferrer
“Uh, Zach, I don’t think I’m actually running this year”

John Liu
“I promise to be the worst mayor ever”
“Also, this is the only known photograph of me”

What a good-looking group of people. Problem is, they are all fucking horrible. Where are the crackpots? Where’s Christopher X Brodeur? I’ll tell you where. He’s in prison again. (Right?) So I am forced to become Christopher X Brodeur.


My platform is simple:

  • Rent is free
  • More bars
  • More bars in more places
  • Free beer
  • Outlaw running for mayor by people who are not me
  • Pancake breakfasts delivered by helicopter
  • Word “hipster” outlawed
  • Subway is free, and flies through the air
  • Declare war on Philadelphia
  • Secede from United States
  • Become part of Peru, for the sweet oil revenues
  • Every third building demolished, just for yuks
  • Central air… everywhere
  • Verify that Peru has oil

I’m like Norman Mailer 1967, but I haven’t beat my wife yet. Vote for me… or be destroyed!


Filed under manhattan, real life, Zach

Comic Couture

If you like Superheroes and their comics or even just their tights, then maybe you should follow this convenient link to the Metropolitan Museum’s Store, which has outdone itself by having every book I didn’t even know existed and now want more than anything ever in the world. You can order a book online if you want but you will still suck if you don’t live in NYC because unlike me, you cannot go see the reason for all of these lovely bound picture collections in person, which is the best most interesting exhibition of all time: “SUPERHEROES: FASHION AND FANTASY!”


My nerdar has been beeping OFF THE CHARTS since it opened a week ago (WITH A GALA ATTENDED BY ANNA WINTOUR) and I can’t wait to get off of work!

Says the museum of the exhibition,

The symbolic and metaphorical associations between fashion and the superhero are explored in this compelling exhibition. Featuring movie costumes, avant-garde haute couture, and high-performance sportswear, it reveals how the superhero serves as the ultimate metaphor for fashion and its ability to empower and transform the human body.”

What’s that, MMA? What did you whisper so alluringly into my eyes on your Special Exhibitions Page? I think it went Fashion…superhero…movie costume…metaphor? MMMMM, say it again, this time slower and with more emphasis on Batman. Oh yes! Yes!

It’s mostly about high fashion and masks and breastplates and stuff, but I told my boyfriend it was about Spiderman and now I am going to it tonight! Yesssssssss! BY THE TIME HE READS THIS IT WILL BE TOO LATE!


You know what reader, get with the program, okay? I am so sick of your whining and irrelevant interjections about things I already know. You really make me want to throw up, also I feel sorry for you and you are not allowed to hang out or eat brunch with me or anything, if you are one of those losers who still has their panties in a major O twist over the Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum:

(original image from

To you, Mr. Japanimation-loving-captain-of-old-news, I say WISE UP, SIR and GET OVER IT. Everyone is going to know how out of the loop you are if you walk around talking about that played out crap this week. For, now it is time to stub out your artful cigarettes and venture back into Manhattan to the museum we all usually forget to be excited about because

a) it is on the UES with all the old people


b) mixed in with the contemporary stuff, it has old boring stuff.

It’s safe to admit it here, reader, I will hardly even judge you. I mean, I work there and I will own up to the Met’s lack of youth appeal, because hey….old furniture? Pictures of Jesus? Not really my fave.

But I’m here to tell you that the Met has some seriously not-lame or square things going on right now. Not only the best exhibition of all time (see above), but also Jeff Koons’ aluminum balloon animals on the roof garden.


A side-note: the roof garden, for those of you who don’t know, is a lovely slate-floored rooftop heaven hovering above Central Park where you can drink strong and really expensive drinks from two bars (and pretend you are RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICH!) and look out over the whole Upper East and West skylines and all the green in between. Try not to throw up over the side!

Sorry I tried to give you some news about culture, ingrate reader! Sorry that I look out for you too much and know too much about stuff going on! I guess you don’t EVEN care that design week is almost here (see google or next week’s post about it for deets). You’re smelcome, loseur!

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Filed under Art, comics, Honor!, manhattan, the Met

Animorphs: More Realistic than Gossip Girl

Gossip Girl really gets to me lately. Not only because I’ll never have stuff as nice as the 15 year old characters on the show, but also because the portrayals and plotlines in GG aren’t even CLOSE to possible. In my book, Gossip Girl is the exact same as Jurassic Park.

“Hey dinosaurs are alive again and we can ride on them and study their poop and stuff and if they attack us we can trick them by hiding in cabinets. It all happened because of fossils!”

“Hey this high school junior dressed head to toe in Anna Sui is being blackmailed by her mysteriously perma-vacationing 16-year-old friend for the time they accidentally killed someone during an orgy last year! Ohhh sophomore year memories!”


I wouldn’t even take the time to write about it, but I watch the show and I sometimes forget that these characters are not supposed to be 28 (although even that is a stretch because I’m only 23 and most weeknights for me involve blowing off a party with lies about a funner party, and then going home, laying down, wearing workout clothes in an act of wild optimism, Tivo, Activia, and going to bed at 9:45 in said workout clothes….).

These characters seem older than me….but why are they in school uniforms? why are they studying for the SAT? They drink more than me, go out more than me, stay out later than me, are definitely taller than me, and have less well-meaning familial interference going on in their lives….so why is one of them grounded? OH RIGHT BECAUSE IT’S SCIENCE FICTION.

The scientific method can prove it!

Figure 1 is a picture of my own high school junior sister (age 16), compared side by side to Blair Waldorf (age 16).



(above: fig. 1)

Figure 2 is a picture of another unrealistic, sci fi high school show compared side by side to Gossip Girl. Note the consistently unrealistic leg length, and the leg to skirt ratio.



Gossip Girl would improve by being animated, so that when Jenny ticks off Blair, steam would come out of Blair’s ears and her eyes and mouth would get really small, and little blue sweat drops would hover at Jenny’s temples. THEN I would be willing to swallow my incredulity when the characters invest in burlesque clubs or decide to finish a semester across the world on a whim, due to social scandal.

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Filed under general complaints, Honor!, ladies, manhattan

Note to Self

I am at work and this is how I feel about it.


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Filed under general complaints, Honor!, manhattan, real life