One of the by-products of rubbing elbows with eight million people on a daily basis is that you have a pretty fair chance of coming across someone you fancy at least once a day. But New York being what it is, namely, a metropolis rife with formalities concerning personal space, it is oftentimes impossible to take that first step toward fulfilling your fantasy. Perhaps that’s why this city provides so many outlets for liberating your stifled desires. Or maybe we all just want to see some titties.
Is That A Faberge Egg In Your Pocket?
You know that feeling when you come home to your penthouse apartment, after a long day of trading, to find your model girlfriend just waiting for you and you look at her lying there on your silk sheets and all you can think is ‘isn’t there more’? Yeah, we do too. Well, when this happens, we trot our overindulged (yet rock hard) tush down to
One Leg Up. Don’t know what that is? Get with it, ‘bra! No wonder you lost the Yamachi account! Look, all you have to do is go to onelegupnyc.com and start the screening process (have your headshot and pay stub at the ready), shell out some cash ($60 quarterly membership dues, $250 entrance fee) and psyche yourself up for the snootiest (is there any other kind?) sex party in New York City! Hey, did you get a new business card?
Does Your Place Need A Woman’s Touch?
Sometimes it’s really hard to prioritize the pressing matters in your life. Say, for instance, your apartment is a huge mess. And you know you really ought to tidy it up, but you’re not in the mood. You’re in the mood. Happily, the good women of Craigslist have an answer to your multitasking troubles: topless cleaners! You can sit and “marvel” at the miracle of the female form and have someone pick up after you all at the same time! It’s almost like you’re still living at home. Except, you know, for the nipples… newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/ers/139422831.html
Even Frasier Crane Has Needs
In this city full of coarse cravings and even coarser cures, it seems at times there is no refuge for the astute (but aroused) urbanite. Well if you, too, prefer the playground of the imagination to the base reality of the flesh, take heart and listen up. Dust off those elbow patches, grease up your comb-over, and go to Happy Endings, where their monthly erotic reading series, In The Flesh, will have your toes curling in erudite ecstasy. Third Wednesday of every month, Happy Ending Lounge, 302 Broome St.
New York is a city of appetites. Some are easier to satisfy than others. Maybe you’re hungry for that big promotion, but you lack ingenuity, connections, and, let’s face it, all requisite technical ability. Maybe you’re thirsting for someone to love, but you have no social skills, no friends and a bad case of halitosis to boot. Well, at least you know you can always fill your cakehole with as many decadent delectables as you can get your hands on.
From Russia, With A Mortgage
If you want to know what it feels like to eat something that costs more than your monthly electric bill per mouthful, may we suggest caviaretc.com — a New York-based gourmet food web boutique where you can buy Tzar Imperial beluga caviar at the going rate of $150 an ounce. But let’s get real here. You’re going to need more than an ounce — there’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on this weekend! Well don’t panic. For a little over the price of half a year’s rent you can buy a whole kilo. Just remember to remove the silver spoon from your mouth before you put those little fish eggs in it.
Good and Plenty (and Sweet)
Remember when all it took to make you happy was a candy store, some free time and a dollar? Yeah, those were the days, weren’t they? But tastes change, we grow up. Or do we? The only way to find out is to stuff your face grade-school style, and the best place to do that is Economy Candy. Unfortunately, what with inflation (I’m talking economical and physical) old George is just not going to cut it. After all, your inner child can’t be coaxed out with just one type of sugar-coated stick of nostalgia. Gummy Cola Bottles are a good place to start ($3.49 a pound). Don’t forget those Brach’s Butterscotch Disks your grandmother carried around in her purse just for you ($2.99 a pound). Finally, cleanse your palate with a packet of Pop Rocks ($1.29) and let your heart explode with sweet, sweet joy. Economy Candy, 108 Rivington St.
Bring Your Own Booze-Hound
And what about quenching those ever-insistent liquid thirsts, hmm? Of course there are tons of bars all over this city ready to bilk your drunken ass out of every last penny you make, just so you can puke it up in the toilet in a mere matter of hours. And while your attempt at rock star decadence is admirable, we have a suggestion that we think will please both your inner lush and your outer pocketbook (if not the lining of your stomach): MyOpenBar.com. Yep, in case you haven’t yet heard, this is the website that lists every open bar in the metropolitan area, every night of the week. At last your two favorite pastimes (freeloading and drinking) can walk (stagger) hand in hand. At least until they fall down and start making out. Get in quick though, rumor has it that Attorney General/wannabe governor Elliott Spitzer is looking to curtail our open-bar fun.
“Greed is good” went the saying, an aphoristic side dish to gelled coifs and oversized cellular phones in a 1980s McInernian universe of strivers. Ever since Alexander Hamilton and his pals established New York as the engine room of capitalism, success in this city has been measured by pure acquisition. Evidence of avarice-driven endeavors stand everywhere: The soaring towers of stone, glass, steel and sweat built by the Rockefellers, Trumps, and Morgans are nothing if not if testament to man’s laudable, lamentable desire to strive for more than he needs.
High Rolling, In Your Bathrobe
For those ungrateful few for whom their take-home pay does not suffice to give life to their materialistic dreams, there exists the shortcut to financial independence… or ruin. Wagering, once a quaintly communal activity enjoyed among well-heeled European pseudo-royalty at Monte Carlo casinos, reputably crooked race tracks in Yonkers, or at neighborhood craps games, now has devolved — thanks to that interconnected network of vacuous diversions — into a singularly singular pursuit. Those who get their kicks on the informational autoroutes have a plethora of roadside casinos to choose from, to earn their fortunes and put a marker on the diminishing return that is their soul. If need be, this also applies to Sloth. rakebreak.com
High-Class Hookers with Hearts of Gold
We’ve never personally met the mythical hooker with a heart of gold — but we’d wager (see above) there are more with gilded bank accounts than golden sensibilities. Yes, if pathos-inspiring businessmen are willing to pay ungodly sums for virility supplements in the form of comely young maidens who take Amex, more power to em’. But really, at a certain point doesn’t it demean us all when an hour with a working girl costs as much as rent on a small studio apartment in Soho? Call us old-fashioned, but wouldn’t he be better off with an MBA and renting Klute, say, and maybe um, buying some gal a drink and telling her a couple jokes? che-models.com
We would like to think there’s a special wing in whatever purgatorious afterlife exists for those profiteering small-minds that would use god’s creatures as launching pads for their financial gain. Specialty dog breeders have always struck us as a particularly loathsome strand of human being. The ungodly amounts these breeds fetch strike one with some degree of obscenity — as do the descriptions on the site of International Kennel Club. “The Shih-Tzu needs air-conditioning in the summer.” Fiancés ought to have good breeding. Pets on the other hand ought only to be chosen on the basis of need. Head to BARC, a shelter in Williamsburg, to meet that perfect someone. 253 Wythe Ave.
You know what’s better than indulging your vices? Not indulging them. Because catering to your every sinful whim, is, well, exhausting. And frankly, the streets of New York aren’t as glamorous as they’ve been made out to be (have you seen how dirty they get?!) But you still want to feel like a badass libertine somehow, right? Well, guess what? Your lack of initiative is a sin, my friend. And New York City is just the place to hire someone to tell you how to hire someone to properly wallow in it.
Meals On Wheels for the Jet Set
Everyone wants to feel like a celebrity. Some people do it by purchasing ridiculously expensive handbags. Some do it by waiting on line at super elite clubs. But all of these things require a certain amount of energy, which you simply do not possess. Hey, I hear ya. Did you know that SJP gets her meals delivered from nukitchenfood.com? And did you know that you can, too? Sure, it costs $34 a day. But it beats the hell out of getting hounded by the paparazzi at your corner bodega.
If It Weren’t For Post-Communist Russia, We Might Never Have Met
Dating is a hassle. It costs money, you have to brush your teeth, and then there’s all that foreplay. Worst of all, you could do it for years and still end up alone. What’s the point? Luckily, there is a way to bypass all of that and go straight to the finish line, i.e., the altar. If you’ve got the cash, Russian site bride.ru has your wife. And don’t worry (not that you would) about your personal appearance — compared to a war-torn village, even you look good.
A Better Life Is Just A Click Away
It’s Saturday night. Your friend just called and invited you out to this really great party, and you said maybe you’d go. But you’re still in your pajamas and the thought of getting all tricked out to go make small talk with other people is just too taxing. Plus, they probably won’t like you anyway. So why not get online and create a personality (not to mention superpowers) that they will like? In this world you may be fat, ugly and unable to lift a 40-ounce bottle of beer; in the world of Norrath (the interactive world of the online game EverQuest) you could be a svelte little elf who can lift things with her mind. Or a shadow knight who employs dark magic to fight all those annoying do-gooders. Just like in real life. Only with less effort. eqplayers.station.sony.com
Anger is a drug. And in New York City, that drug is available on pretty much every street corner. From whacked-out irritated cabbies to disgruntled pedestrians yammering into their portable telephones to clinically insane neighbors, the city conspires to send confrontation your way every moment of every day. But why settle for the mundanely enraging when you can indulge in full-blown, five-alarm, operatic wrath! Now pay attention:
The Furies Came On Rollerskates
If you gave in to your pent-up rage and clotheslined/sucker punched every person who got on your nerves, you’d be in jail before sunrise. To avoid the hoosegow, go satisfy your darker impulses vicariously at Gotham Girls Roller Derby, as stars like Lady Batterly, Surly Temple, Baby Ruthless, and our favorite, Lil’ Red Terror, beat the crap out of each other with blood in their eyes and ire in their hearts. Every now and then a hair-pulling, cheek-scratching fight spills into the crowd, into your very lap — and it’s pure bliss. The first round of games this season is April 7, at Skate Key, 220 E. 138th St, the Bronx (4,5 to 138th St-Grand Concourse)
Get Hit. Hit Back. Spit in a Bucket.
Violence, when contained in a safe, consensual environment, can be the perfect expression of anger. And within the neat, right-angle space of the squared circle, headgear placed just so, padded gloves cinched tight, foam-rubber cod blocker hiked high round your hips, violence is expected of you. Gleason’s Gym has been training the best of the best of over 70 years, and over the last ten years, they’ve been training the best (or at least, the ok) of the rest as a part of their white-collar boxing program. At $75 a month (plus $20 an hour for individual trainers) you can’t afford not to indulge in the oh-so-pure feeling of fist against face. Let the leather fly. Gleason’s Gym, 83 Front St, DUMBO, 718-797-2872
Rage, Rage, Against the Lying of the Right
Liberal rage often gets a bad name: “shrill,” “hysterical,” “bleeding-heart elitism,” immediately come to mind. But we say fuck that. Dear New Yorker, you need not be ashamed of your anger, there’s a lot to be furious about — so head to the theater to catalyze your ire in a safe space. Junta High simultaneously transposes the War on Terror and the war in Iraq into the halls of a high school for a disturbing look at faith, fervor and Friday night football. What Do I Know About War? quotes directly from soldiers’ letters and statements, providing tragic insight into the all-too-human cost of war. Junta High, PS 122, 150 First Ave, 212-352-3101. What Do I Know About War? Theatre for the New City, 212-352-3101.
Envy is the engine that runs NYC. It starts early, with young mothers worrying their child isn’t getting the kind of education (i.e. networking opportunities) the neighbor’s kid is. Fast-forward to that first internship, when the ambitious youngster beholds the never-pay-for-anything arrogance of the editorial muckety-mucks and decides he wants to be like that. Thus follows a life of anxious climbing, perpetual striving for a bigger apartment, a better set of abs, a fancier title, and at some point, a better school for little Tad.
Oooooh Yeah: The Fine Art of Faking It
It’s a superficial world out there, let’s just get that out of the way. Sure, the hollowness of it all can be kind of depressing, but think of it this way: if people only care about exteriors, you can trick them into believing just about anything! We both know you can’t afford a $45,000 mink stole (not to mention the ickiness of sporting an animal carcass on your shoulders), so why not just pretend? Make your way to the Fashion District (34th to 42nd Sts, between Seventh and Eighth Aves) where you’ll find all manner of furry fakery — you’ll just have to be prepared to dig for them.
Avoiding the Velvet Rope Burns
Again, we can’t stress enough that substance and content are secondary to the illusion of exclusivity. There’s nothing worse than being one of those people left huddling outside of a “hot” club (but let’s face it, if enough people even know where to line up, it can’t be all that cool). The solution? Impress your workmates by namedropping imaginary secret bars and/or clubs that you “totally partied” at, as you gather around the office microwave to reheat last night’s leftovers. Try going with single-word club names like Internalized, Ethos, Spheric, or Vestibule — as in, “The scene at Vestibule on Saturday was mad!” You’ll be the envy of all. Bitch. (Even we couldn’t get into Vestibule.)
De-Accentuate the Positively Dreadful Way You Currently Speak
Have you ever felt a little self-conscious about that southern Indiana drawl a y’orn? Or your Fran Drescher-level Long Island yawp? Well, you should. But there’s hope, and oddly enough it begins in Long Island, at the Careerspeech Institute. The place is run by one Professor David Fleischhacker, who no doubt perfected his diction early on in life to compensate for the all the trouble caused by his last name. At the Institute, you’ll, “Put an end to your accent, improve your speech — and your life.” (Which is not necessarily an invitation to kill yourself.) The point is, if you sound smart and fancy, people will think you’re smart and fancy. And they will envy you for it. Locations in Suffolk and Nassau, L.I. 631-587-0546, careerspeech.com
In our ego-obsessed culture few descriptors have come to represent more enviable qualities than that of pride — writer of canonical works, builder of towering monuments, and defender of vaunted freedoms. But those folks who divined sins for a living were onto something when they pegged this one. It is the unhealthy obsession with the self for which this city is famous and has brought us such inimitable characters such as Norman Mailer, Robert Moses and narcissistic nutjob, the CorcoDevil herself, real estate maven Barbara Corocoran.
Don’t Stop Until You Can See the Money
Money and good taste aren’t necessarily synonymous. In fact they are often mutually exclusive as the excess that defines one is in opposition to the restraint demanded by the other. This city, however, is filled with those canny individuals who have learned how to profit off the overwhelming desire to individuate one’s personal style. Cut against the bias just so, create a shimmering reputation out of the ordinary cloth of your background and don’t be shy charging them some truly outrageous sums. Jeffrey’s, 449 W 14th St.
Feels Like the First Time, All Over Again
Picture the scene. You’re a late thirty-something woman going on 40 and your life is one big slow sag. Sure there are the tummy tucks, botox injections, and face prop-ups, but they all seem so desperate, so bourgeois. Your hubby works hard, and frankly you both realize that those younger hotties offer more than just an obtuse sense of cynical humor. There’s one part of you that he misses that neither of you will discuss. It’s called vaginal rejuvenation and allows middle-aged women to experience sex as painfully as the first time… for his sake. Now that’s what we call empowering! $1,800-$5,000 Ridgewood Health and Beauty Center 68-08 Forest Avenue, Ridgewood, Queens, 718-628-9886
Have Gadget Will Preen
In the absence of any strongly identifiable writing talent one may hone a sarcastic wit. In the absence of wit or intelligence, one may apply a steely resolve, refusing to let scruples or squeamishness get in the way of success. On top of all that, the dearth of brawn, beauty, or any kind of physical prowess may lead one to flaunt other more easily obtained marvels. For women, it may be sparkly baubles, attained for ridiculous amounts of money. For men, simple sort that they often are, shiny thumping vibrating gadgetry that plugs into the wall, or gets mounted into one’s chassis, will do just nicely as ego-replacement thank you. (Did we say “ego”? We meant penis.)Innovative Audio 150 E 58th St, 212-634-4444