I don’t really exercise. Don’t care for it too much. My excuse being, I live in Manhattan and walk constantly, so shut up.

On the rare occasion that I am feeling spunky, however, I will work out and take it to the Elliptical, a.k.a the Poor Man’s Treadmill, just like this hottie. But I cannot and will not work out, if I don’t have good music to help me on my sweaty, fat-burning journey. And that music best suited for my JOURNEY? 80’s music. Journey. 80’s music.

The New York Times just featured an article on the effect that certain songs have on us while we exercise, and while it’s not all that exciting or earth-shattering to read that faster songs correspond to a faster heart rate (NO SH*T, really?) it is pretty interesting to see some of the suggestions of songs to add to our playlists, to help pump us up and keep us motivated.

Self.com is a website after my own heart, as the NYTimes article mentions they chose Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go as a workout playlist hit. There is nothing like a good Wham! classic to really get me going. Which got me thinking of one of my personal workout faves which is also from the 80’s, called Baby I’m a Star. It was originally sung by Prince, but in my opinion, The Lil’ Soul Man does it waaay better. Plus, his backup dancers are rocking those shoulder pads, and his wig is amazing. Read More »

If you live in Manhattan, chances are you stumbled onto the set of the Sex and the City movie. They were everywhere this fall, prompting reporters, blogs, and crazy fan girls to speculate just what the plot of the feature would be.

Well, here’s our first look at what the ladies will be up to. Enjoy!

Last Saturday in Manhattan, I saw every costume imaginable. Swarms of bees, a duo from the Great Gatsby, a Pharaoh, Cat Woman, Sponge Bob, even a seriously drunk Teletubby. Everyone came out to play.But the best costume of the night went to the super skinny hipster boy standing right near my L train exit on Bedford. He was about as authentic as an Amy Winehouse imposter can be: short shorts, ratty white tank, beehive and thick black eyeliner. He was unmistakable replica. And it probably only cost him the price of a black wig.

If you’re broke or lazy or broke AND lazy (like me!) Halloween is more of an inconvenience than it is a good time. So instead of being Debbie Downer (hey, costume idea!) by not dressing up, here are some cheap ideas that are easy to put together on the fly.

Like say tonight… or tomorrow. Read More »

After 30 minutes on the elliptical, sweat trickling down my back, face red and unattractive, legs shaking, the first thing I think is, damn, I wish I smelled like peppermint.

Reebok must have heard those imagined thoughts (because I certainly never thought them) and created a product that pretty much defies all logic but still probably sells well: the scented sports bra!

For a mere $28.95, your breasts can smell like they just brushed their teeth…or something. What’s the value in having minty fresh boobs?

I guess for the sweaty chicks among us, the minty scent can mask the otherwise offensive odors that may eminate from our chest, right? I mean sports bras and boob sweat go together like Bret Michaels and strippers! Read More »

I have a special place in my heart for terrible teen television. The O.C., Degrassi, Instant Star, South of Nowhere, Dawson’s Creek: I just can’t get enough of it. The cheesy acting, the terrible love dramas, the catty bitch fights. I LOVE IT.

Which is why I am pumped for my newest terrible teen television drama Gossip Girl. Being an angsty teen is hard enough but when you’re rich, pretty and living on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, life is so bad it’s good. I’m pretty sure I watched the trailer five times because I was THAT excited.

There have been reviews. The New York Times profiled the show while five real UES Manhattan girls watched the first episode. And a few have even written that Gossip Girl is nothing to gossip about. But this is no Arrested Development, people. This is bad television.

The acting is sub par and the plotline monotonous (teens drinking and doing it… not anything new), but this time instead of sunny California it’s New York City.

And a location change is enough for me to be interested. It’s new! It’s fresh! It’s probably awful and I love it. Read More »

Never been one for Improv?

Yeah me either. I’m just not that funny on the spot. But Improv Everywhere’s mp3 Experience 4, held on August 18, took improv to the masses and the comedy challenged.

Pretty much the coolest game ever, all you had to do was download the mp3, sync up your ipod and meet at the designated local in lower Manhattan. Then, the fun began. And with total strangers, no less!

Participants were instructed to hit play at 4 o’clock on the dot as they were told to complete tasks like pointing to the Statue of Liberty (even though they couldn’t see it), skip to a German Tourist, play Twister and interact with the public (high fives and thumbs ups!) as they walked to a park for the next part of their mission. Read More »

Look out! There’s a new STD on the loose! A Socially Transmitted Disease that could be making you fat.

That’s right, obesity is now considered “socially contagious.” In fact, a new study done by Harvard Medical School and published in the New England Journal of Medicine says that if you have any girl friends that are obese, your chances of being obese rise 71%.

Of course, if you befriend an overweight male, your chances of packing on the pounds are only 57%.

According to the study, it has nothing to do with what you eat when you’re around those who are overweight. Which was my initial thought. I mean, if your friends want ice cream or pizza, most times you go along with the crowd, right? Read More »

When I was drunk off my ass at some random bar in the Lower East Side last night, making eyes at the hot (or so he seemed at the time) bartender all sloppy-like, inevitably my stomach started to crave falafel. The crunch of the lettuce, the slight sting of the onion, the tahini sauce, oh the tahini sauce…all for around four dollars.

At that moment, oh around 3:30 in the AM, my world seemed to revolve around getting my newly painted mitts (inky violet with sparkles, so hot) on one of those Middle Eastern delights. I was like a junkie or something.

Luckily I could easily get my fix around the corner, because there just happens to be a falafel place in a one block radius of any given point in Manhattan, even in Chinatown I suspect, although I have yet to test this particular thesis. This convenience makes them the perfect drunk food. Sure falafel doesn’t have the melted cheese + marinara sauce appeal of a slice of pizza but those mildly spiced chick-peas…orgasmic. Read More »