When my life got out of control earlier this month (that two-week blur of torpedoed apartment, severed internet, and filthy hair), I took to watching Seinfeld for comfort and respite. My husband and I don’t have cable, so we compensate with streaming Netflix. With the internet (and all streaming options) down for a fortnight though, I… Read more »
A few months ago, I was faced with a dilemma: How to get my ex-boyfriend’s shit out of my apartment and QUICK because it was annoying me. How do I do this? I thought. Am I supposed to go all the way to Brooklyn to bring it to him? Should he come to my place?… Read more »
AANY contributor Thomas Pryor runs his very own storytelling salon! Join him the second Tuesday of every month at the lovely Cornelia Street Café… Who: Thomas Pryor What: City Stories: Stoops to Nuts storytelling show Where: Downstairs at The Cornelia Street Cafe, 29 Cornelia Street, between Bleecker and West 4th. When: The second Tuesday of every… Read more »
In the final episode of season 4, Mr. Big moves to a vineyard in Northern California, prompting one of the best exchanges in the series: “I’m tired of old New York,” Big says. “Well, if you’re tired you take a nappa, you don’t move to Napa,” Carrie replies. I learned this evening that my good… Read more »
Happy belated Valentine’s day to all the Big City Sirens out there. This year, I actually have a Valentine, and it even has a penis! The relationship is new, so I thought I’d go over a few new relationship tips because girls are, well, stupid. I’m stupid, you’re stupid, we’re all stupid. And if you… Read more »
Usually, “talking to the walls” is a frustrating, unproductive endeavor. You try to get your point across, but the person with whom you’re speaking is so obstinate that you might as well be debating with masonry. Luckily, the walls in New York talk back and, like most people who live in this city, they’ve got… Read more »
For every tourist who pukes on my bus (Almost Carrie, 1.27.12), there is another who is a true delight. After seven years of tours and 55 people per bus, the faces blur, but I do maintain a small collection of favorites. And despite the obvious frivolity of my job, there are still moments when I… Read more »
The other day I was running errands in my neighborhood when I thought I heard someone call my name. I looked over, saw someone I didn’t know, and assumed he must be referring to some other Lindsey. I turned up Robyn on my ipod (great break-up music, btw), but after three more Lindsey‘s the guy… Read more »
Mr. Bellers Neighborhood published my story “January 25, 1987.” It concerns my trip to the New York Giants first Super Bowl 25 years ago. Winning Sunday will warm my winter by ten degrees; if the Giants are defeated it’s been an amazing close to a dramatic New York football season. This is the only sport I leave… Read more »
For the past month, my apartment has been undergoing renovations, which means that all my stuff—everything from unpaid bills to wet towels to those damned Manolo Blahniks I bought for my wedding—are on the floor in one crazy heap. My internet connection, through some phenomenon completely unrelated to the construction, has been out for two… Read more »
