Any “best of” list can tell you what restaurants you need to indulge in while you’re in New York, but I’ve got some tips for the truly gluttonous: the ones who want to eat the part of New York that doesn’t come with a side of locally sourced kale.
I believe in taking chances, because no matter the outcome, regret is always a worse option. And on a related note, I believe in second chances. Really, when was the last time any of us got something right the first time?
New York harbors some of the rudest, most obnoxious, cold-hearted, matter-of-fact, self-centered and entitled assholes to ever grace this country, but I love them.
You’re not a real New Yorker until you move away from here.
If our mothers don’t approve, you’ve got no chance.
Hope for our Adam Brody character seemed almost spent.
I only know one joke.
In New York, you’re considered wealthy if you have a dishwasher in your apartment. In L.A., you’re rich if you live in a mansion.
If humanity had a family crest, do you know what would be on it? Pizza.
The tip I found most upsetting was “Try placing a donut on your man’s shaft. Then go down on him while slowly devouring the tasty treat.” You see, Cosmo, I have Celiac’s Disease, which means I can’t eat wheat flour, the #1 ingredient in donuts. It’s tragic to think of all the ways this negatively impacts my sex life.