MY New York, Bitches

Every Sunday the Post interviews a celeb about his or her favorite spots in New York. A few weeks ago they interviewed Peggy Olsen from Mad Men and I was VERY excited to learn that she goes to the knitting store in my neighborhood, which means that Don Draper and I are practically dating.

Anyway, since the Post has been dragging its feet about contacting me, I took the liberty of making my own map.



1. Rudy’s Bar and Grill
9th Ave. & 44th St.

They have free hot dogs and cheap pitchers. There’s a fiberglass pig out front. The last time I was there, I met a guy with his name (Franklin) tattooed on his arm. What more do you need? Stop reading and go there now.

2. The Hairy Monk
3rd Ave & 25th St.

This is where I watched the Red Sox win the World Series in 2004 and it’s still my favorite Red Sox bar. There's a strong possibility I appeared on Japanese TV here during the 2007 playoffs.

3. Two Little Red Hens bakery
2nd Ave. & 86th St.

The best cupcakes in town. (And chocolate chip cookies.)

4. Cowgirl
Hudson St. b/n Charles & 10th

Excellent margaritas, although they are a little too strong for a certain someone I know.

5. Bistro Les Amis
Thompson St. & Spring St.

My FAVORITE restaurant in the city.

6. Riverside Park

Central Park is infested with tourists, demon children on scooters and annoying Upper West Siders. I wouldn’t be caught dead there in the summer (unlike Jennifer Levin). Instead, I recommend Riverside Park. While you have to deal with many shirtless, rollerblading geriatrics, it’s right on the water and you can pretend you’re on the Cape. Also, it has the Boat Basin Café which is super fun.

7. Lenny’s
Columbus Ave. & 84th St.

What can I say. Lenny’s owns me.

12 Days of Bitchness

On the 12th day of Christmas, Mikey Lowell gave to me...


12 Obama posters



11 hours on Facebook



10 puerile comments


9 pseudo beaches


8 "It's on you, Babe"s


7 winning beagles


6 guys named "Jimmy"


5 trips 'round San Juan


4 whiffle balls


3 dead mice


2 douchey hats


And a black eye with a bruised cheek

Take the A(Rod) Train

The C train (also the A train when it’s pinch-hitting for the C) is the A-Rod of the subway. In a game against Kansas City in April - the middle of the day, rush hour, anytime you’re NOT in a hurry - the C train is all home runs and RBIs. It comes right away, there are no delays and everything is fine. But come playoff time -Saturday morning, after 11:00 pm, when you needed to be at Penn Station 15 minutes ago- it’s completely useless. It’ll take 45 minutes to arrive; you will be stopped at 59th St. for 15 minutes; or, like A-Rod in the clutch - down one in the bottom of the ninth with two on and one out - it will ground into a double play by completely skipping your stop, forcing you to walk four blocks out of your way and fight off all the douchebags in Times Square when you are already a half hour late for work. Also it’s blue, just like A-Rod’s lips.

Year of the Cat

Happy New Year!

As promised, a redesign (sort of). Pretty new colors and polls!

2007 New Year's Resolutions:

-Will not drink a bottle of wine before browsing iTunes
-Will be open-minded about listening to music that is not ABBA, Bob Dylan or popular in 1973
-Will stop... will REDUCE gossiping about co-workers
-Will limit “Hogzilla” references about upstairs neighbor to 20 per day
-Will make effort to leave apartment rather than living vicariously through MTV

Hiatus

I’m sure all five (literally) of my readers are despondent at the infrequency of my posting. However, I’ve been really busy lately, what with Thanksgiving, the Laguna Beach season finale and my ongoing plot to kill the upstairs neighbor without getting caught. (Stupid Russian government stole my idea of using polonium-210. Jerks.)

Anyway, I’m just stopping by to say with the holidays approaching and all the social (read: drinking) opportunities they afford, things are likely to get worse. There may not be anything new on here until 2007. However, there is good news. I plan to launch Son of Manus 2.0 in January. I’m not exactly sure what that will entail, but hopefully the “2.0” tag is sufficiently irritating.

On that note, I hope y’all have a fabulous holiday season. Remember to keep the Christ in Christmas (as in “Jesus fucking Christ, I hate these goddamn tourists!”) and I will see you in ’07. (Or earlier if I get a special message from my cup of eggnog.)

Bonnes Fêtes!

De-Parting Shots

So I work with this guy who is a Cardinals fan (he’s from St. Louis, which is surprising, because I thought the Midwest was a myth, like Atlantis), and we share a workspace. He has a cutout of Tony LaRussa’s head taped to the computer, which I find kind of disconcerting. However, I can’t say anything to him about it because A) until recently, I had a picture of David Wright with an “I heart Kate” thought bubble taped there and B) if Tony LaRussa’s head can do anything to end this interminable World Series, I’m all for it.

Since everyone who “blogs” is contractually obligated to mention the World Series and The Departed, here’s my review of the movie: it’s not Goodfellas, but it’s not bad. On the plus side: Matt Damon is hot. Leo DiCaprio is hot. I think I’m a little bit in love with Marky Mark.* I give the Boston porn an A+ (even though the movie was mostly shot in New York - which I take as a shout-out to me), and according to IMDB.com, they use the word “fuck” 237 times in the whole movie, only slightly less than I do in an average conversation.

On the minus side, not EVERYONE in Boston has a Boston accent, so I find it annoying that EVERY character in EVERY movie set in Boston sounds like Cliff Clavin. Did every character in Goodfellas have an obviously fake New York accent? No. Does everyone in The Sopranos really sound like they’re from Jersey? No. So knock it off.

Secondly, there is no way the woman in the movie is hot to enough to sleep with Matt Damon AND Leonardo DiCaprio, fake accent or no. She is just too skinny and annoying. Also, I am so over Jack Nicholson, although he wasn’t as irritating as usual. But he needs to retire.

And I guess that's it. Two thumbs up. Go Tigers (or whoever)!!

*Speaking of Marky Mark, I recently re-watched Boogie Nights, and all I can say is, all this time I thought Dirk Diggler was a real porn star. I know he is based on one, but I thought he was a real guy. I also thought Go Ask Alice was a real book and I guess it did its job as anti-drug propaganda because I was always too scared to try LSD for fear I would accidentally put the neighbor’s baby in the oven to kill all the bugs crawling on it.