There’s not too much about this bar that is different from any other midtown hangout. The lights are dimmed, the music is eclipsed by the steady drone of polite chatter, there is a distinct smell of polo sport and a single yawn dances contageously around the room. In any other bar, I wouldn’t have even stayed for a first drink…except that in the middle of this southern-style dive there is a mechanical bull.

Yes, a bull… as in, the land-faring version of a shark… so unpredictable and deadly that has generated sensational cinematic classics. When is Speilberg gonna make a “Western” version of “Jaws”? The time is now.

The place? Johnny Utahs.

It appears that until this moment, only a few guys had dared to take on this mechanical snorting monster. Self-induced humiliation can certainly be appreciated, but the crowd starts losing interest after realizing the predictability of how this battle of man versus beast will end.

Until… UNTIL!… the crowd parts. Laughter preceeds her entrace into the ring as a girl in a short skirt giggles sloppily toward the bull. As she makes an attempt to mount this robot-beast, something remarkable happens to the crowd. Read More »

“I know you don’t drive in New York…but haven’t you at least noticed the increase in food prices?” my dad asked me. I licked the peanut butter off of the knife in my hand. “Hmm….yeah…come to think about it, my peanut butter WAS more expensive today.”

For my own sanity, I find it necessary to pay as little attention to finances as possible. Money was always at the core of the stress in my family growing up and to combat that irrationally frugal gene in me, I try to swing as far into the ever-indulging and financially irresponsible realm as possible. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed.

The recession HAS affected me. I lost my steady job two months ago. While it was disgustingly easy for me to find new jobs to replace that job, I was still a bit shaken. The supposed millionaires I once relied on for my income no longer could afford me…or most of their staff, for that matter. It seems as though the recession affected them, too, and their ability to buy their dog $30 steaks for lunch (I wish I were kidding about that one).

So I found other jobs and kept on trucking. Metaphorically, of course. If I were actually trucking these days, I’d be even poorer. Read More »

ScarJo may have Ryan Reynolds, but she sure don’t have the Billboard 100

Reality TV to get cheaper / dumber / much more boring

So cute I might puke: Dog adopts BABY RABBITS

New York is about to have some FABULOUS weddings…

Is it okay to joke about date rape? How about punching a dude in the balls?

Sorry Sarah Larson. George just wasn’t ready to settle down.

Screw the Freshman 15. Try the Freshman 103.

Drink Mint Juleps, impress EVERYONE

I have an account on a dating site. But I never use it. Unless I want to depress myself. Then I use it.

It’s easy to depress oneself on an online dating site – especially if A) you know for a fact you’ll never find the person you want online and B) all your “matches” are either really unattractive or cover their profile with flowery prose that’s so full of sh*t there’s no room for actual talent.

Aside from the shirtless mirror shot attached to a Faulker-esque description of New York City in the winter or a predisposition for “coding computers”, there’s nothing that turns me off faster than when one of my weird, douchebag-like “matches” has NPR listed as one of their loves. Which is strange. Because I love NPR.

I love being serenaded on long Sunday car rides by Ira Glass’s calming monotone during This American Life. I enjoy All Things Considered, BBC World Service updates, and the occasional funny op-ed by a slightly famous quirky writer. I feel comfortable with NPR’s obvious liberal bias – as I myself own such a bias – and there’s nothing better than sitting alone in my apartment with a glass of wine as deep-set, unhurried voices click their well versed tongues against my eardrums. NPR is like a womb. A liberal, literary, sophisticated womb where I take comfort at least twice a day (if not more).

So why the shuddering when I notice a potential mate might enjoy themselves some Fresh Air with Terry Gross?

I’m not sure, exactly. Maybe because most of the people I know who listen to public radio are bleeding heart liberals, and even though I consider myself one of those bleeders (with a shot of hippie thrown in), I get a little nervous when a guy describes himself that way. Read More »

Living in New York City is great. And I mean that. I’ve been here for the last six or seven years, and before that I lived in nearby Long Island (with frequent visits into Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island to visit my family, and sometimes Manhattan to take in a show or go to a museum).

The problem is not living in New York City. The problem is living in New York City AND being a girl.

For some reason, this is THE city of catcalls and bad pick-up lines. It doesn’t matter what you look like, who you are–if you have (or even might have) a hooha, you’re gonna be harassed.

So now, for your reading pleasure, I’d like to present you with a scene from last night in My Life As A Girl In NYC.

This is verbatim. I kid you not.

Enjoy.

(10pm Thursday night. After four hours of tech rehearsal at a local theater, SARA, 23, heads up to Union Square, where she sits down on the steps to wait for her BOYFRIEND, 26.

To Sara’s left sit two HIPSTERS. Sara casually witnesses a seemingly NEW JERSEY GUY in a douchey leather jacket ask them for a cigarette.

Sara goes back to waiting. But something is wrong. Sensing this, she turns around to find Jersey Guy and his two JERSEY FRIENDS staring at her. And Jersey Guy is pointing right at her. Sara quickly turns back around.

But it’s too late. Jersey Guy approaches, unlit cigarette in hand.)

JERSEY GUY: I just wanted to say thanks for looking all pretty. Read More »

So, I was in NYC the other day to drop my boyfriend off at LaGuardia. During the 20 minutes we sat in the departures area waiting for a friend to show up, I saw flocks of girls traipse through the airport wearing leggings—ONLY leggings—on their lower halves.

Hello? Is this some infuriating trend I’m missing because I don’t live in the hotspots of NYC?

Thankfully, since I don’t live there, I can provide those girls with a clue. Leggings are NOT pants! Okay?! They are like tights—meant to be worn under something. Something such as PANTS!

Wearing leggings as pants is like painting your legs hoochie black and then walking around. If you think you have amazing legs, then fine. Walk around in a miniskirt or a pair of skinny jeans. But for the love of all that is proper, do not treat leggings and pants interchangeably!

If you still don’t get it, here’s a simple cheat sheet.

Leggings with a minidress? Okay, as long as the minidress is conceivably long enough so that you could wear it with only underwear. Read More »

Yesterday some guy followed me up the stairs on a subway transfer (that it turned out he wasn’t taking, just creepily following me like a creepy creep creep) and after the requisite come-on line (which I won’t burn your retinas with), he instantly whips out the line I’ve grown so accustomed to hearing: “What’s your heritage?”

Here’s what I don’t understand (well, here’s one of many, many, many things I don’t understand):

Why does every guy in New York who approaches me want to know my ethnicity?

And I’m serious about this. Because, look. I live in New York City. There are more Jews (such as moi) here than like everywhere ever. I should not be so unidentifiable.

For me, there are two varieties of these guys. The guy cited above fits into the first category: guys who guess. And they always guess Italian, Puerto Rican, or Greek. Seriously. And I am pale like the squishy underbelly of a cabbage.

The other category of guys are guys who want to know if I’m Jewish. These guys are usually Muslim or Israeli and nothing in between. I don’t know why either group bothers–I’m too Jewish for the Muslims and not Jewish enough for the Israelis. So it goes.

And why, friends, why oh why for the love of all that is good and not annoying, why do they need to know my heritage in the first place? When did this become an acceptable thing to ask a stranger? Read More »

It’s news time with Kandy Korrespondent:

Yesterday in New York, the Rev. Al Sharpton and 189 others were arrested on charges of disorderly conduct, when they blocked rush hour traffic to protest the acquittal of three officers in the shooting of Sean Bell. Shouting, “We are all Sean Bell”, demonstrators knelt in front of City Hall, blocking on of the streets leading to the Brooklyn Bridge.

In November 2006, twenty-three year old Sean Bell was shot over 50 times by undercover cops who say they thought he was going to be involved in a drive-by shooting. He died the night before his wedding day. His fiancée was one of those arrested in yesterday’s protest.

In Other News:

Despite barely beating Obama in Indiana and loosing in North Carolina by 14 points, Presidential hopeful Hillary Clinton remains defiantly determined to continue her candidacy. Yet it’s becoming clearer and clearer that her campaign is quickly headed into the ground. Read More »