Hello, Kitty: I met this guy in a club two years ago. We exchanged numbers, danced, and had a serious make-out session. After that, we went out on one date and then lost contact. Three weeks ago, I contacted him through MySpace, we exchanged numbers, and hung out. We ended…
The joint is tucked away on SoBe’s 17th Street, past the busboys’ cigarette spot and a strangely ubiquitous heap of the Delano’s daytime trash. Admission is an “I belong” smile to the stone-faced security guard. On Tuesday nights, a stroll down the steps, through the glass doors, and along a…
You might get seasick stepping into the bathtub, but our city has a longstanding love affair with the high seas. A large portion of the community reached these shores by boat, and we don’t even want to imagine what our weekends would be like if our drugs didn’t get a…
Those damn Ferrero Rocher commercials and the seasonal aisle at Walgreens alerted us to the fact that the season of jingle bells and fruitcakes arrived back in October, but thanks to the mixed messages we’re receiving, we don’t really know what Christmas means. Is the holiday about buying gifts, cooking…
You only have to watch one hour of Headline News to know that a large segment of today’s youth are lazy slobs who won’t try a sport unless it has the word “Wii” affixed to it. And we don’t blame them; if honey bun-eating were an Olympic sport, we’d be…
Super-cycler Lance Armstrong is returning to the Tour de France this year to go for his eighth win and he’s voiced his concerns about overzealous fans who may try to harm him while he’s cycling in his one-balled glory. If we were up for a 2,200-mile ride, walk, or drive…
The holiday season has strayed from its frankincense and myrrh roots and become an ode to Hannah Montana and the latest iWhatever. You should stop being such a damn consumer, help someone less fortunate, and we’ll take that new Nano in pink while you spend the ducats on your ticket…
We’re dreaming of a drunken Christmas, and if that chimney-slidin’ fat man knows what’s good for him, he’ll bring it to us. He’ll leave the lumps of coal for John Edwards and the guy who invented mandals and bring us jewel-toned boxes filled with bottles of something that’ll make us…
Hello, Kitty: My girl complains about my body hair, saying that I need to wax and/or shave my chest and pubic area. But the vision of Steve Carell getting waxed in The 40-Year-Old Virgin has me thinking it’s not worth the pain. My hairy bod has never bothered me, but…
You already know about SoBe’s legendary News Café — a place with a 24-7 schedule that makes Sunset Strip hookers look like nuns. People turn up at the hotspot at all hours for a cocktail, a coffee, or to gawk at the passersby — but never for privacy. And did…
This column is usually a part of your “morning after” cure, only summoned to solve the issues that too much liquor and too little inhibitions can cause. But since the rest of the Magic City becomes the best/worst enabler ever around Art Basel, I decided to join in the fray…
Our droopy economy has affected not only Wall Street and Main Street but also Restaurant Row. We hear your stomach growling for something that doesn’t come from your rusty sauté pan. You don’t have to let George W. Bush’s shoddy management skills deter you from tasting the good life at…
You though it was freaky when you walked into your wacky Aunt Misty’s home and spied an all-white aluminum Christmas tree. It was decked out in twinkling lights and metallic bulbs like any other pine, but the way that thing glowed after dark was a sight to see. Ever since…
You used to spend your weekends getting wasted, throwing up, and doing it all over again, but ever since you landed in Parentville, your rug rats have been the ones throwing up and you feel as if your life is wasting away. Since man can’t live on Hannah Montana alone,…
Your unassuming pooch is nothing short of beautiful after a trip to the groomer, but for the most part, he’s a regular dude that likes to keep the primping to a minimum. No pink bows, no fancy shirts — just a little flea bath every now and then. But the…
Don’t tell Mom, but we like to eat cookies in bed. Chocolate chip, oatmeal, we love them all — even more so when we can doze off after the last bite. And in case you’re wondering, the fear of crumbs crawling where the sun don’t shine is no match for…
No one bats an eye when you rock that cow-skin belt, and you catch a few lingering looks when you get all James Dean in your bomber jacket, but it’s a good idea to leave the full-body leather jumpsuits for special occasions. There’s something about rockin’ head-to-toe soaked, sanded, and…
It’s been two days and you’re still in a Thanksgiving fog of reconstituted leftovers. Your tummy is begging for a reprieve, but you haven’t been able to focus on anything other than turkey. You have it in your omelets, slapped between slices of bread, and even fried up to make…
Thanksgiving dinner would be just another boring meal with the fam if it weren’t for that huge golden-brown bird perched in the middle of the table. Sure, you have it on a Subway five-dollar foot-long three times a week, but when it’s all trussed up and in its full glory,…
Hallmark would have you believe Thanksgiving is about sitting around a table with the ones you love and showing how much you appreciate them, but our tummies tell us that it is the day to unabashedly throw down on a few plates stacked high with food. We love you, Uncle…
When you hear tunes about the first noel and a red-nosed reindeer echoing through the aisles of your local Walgreens, you know the holidays have arrived. And like clockwork, you spring into motion, untangling strings of glistening lights and dusting off oversize crimson stockings to the familiar little ditties. This…
Hello, Kitty: I am 39 years old, have two kids, and am separated from my wife of six years. Not long ago, I began dating my 27-year-old ex-girlfriend, who has never been in a serious relationship. Though she has commitment issues, I’ve really never stopped loving her. I halfway enjoyed…
