I’m going to Mexico at the beginning of May, so I’m starting to keep my eye peeled for a new swimsuit for my trip. I have yet to find a bikini that I really want, but I have come across a whole mess of swimsuits that would get me more than a few looks on the beach. It seems that some swimwear designers these days aren’t creatively inspired by simple batik prints or bright colors — no, they’re into the Animal Kingdom (and I don’t mean classic cheetah prints), bones, and body parts, amongst other non-traditional influences. You know … so edgy! Click on to see 17 swimsuits I simply do not have the balls to wear.
I have written before about how much I enjoy living alone. I got my own apartment shortly after my fiancé and I broke up; though I did very much enjoy cohabiting with him — having roommates in college and in my first years in NYC, not so much — I quickly discovered that living alone was so much better. While I am a big believer in living together before marriage and know I will live with a partner again, it will take a mighty special person to get me to break up with my bachelorette pad.
I recognize I am in a privileged position, being able to afford my own place, especially in New York. But if you ever get the chance to live alone — and this is certainly more economically feasible in other parts of the country where rent isn’t so mind-bogglingly high — you need to seize the opportunity. Living alone has presented me with some awesome perks that I think may sway you to someday ditch the roommate or cohabiting BF. Keep reading »
BBH, the same ad agency behind Axe body spray’s noxiously viral campaigns, have hit the streets of massive internet partyapocalypse South by Southwest this week – well, actually, they haven’t hit any such streets. But they have outfitted 10 homeless men with 4G wireless devices and T-shirts stating “I Am a Homeless Hotspot.” Internerds struggling for web connectivity are prompted to tip the men $2 for each 15 minutes of access. That’s just enough time to refresh your own Twitter mentions and stew in your own complicity in what now passes for charity. Keep reading »
As a fan of reality TV competition shows, I always, without fail, root for the villain. The villain is usually the smartest and most strategic, attributes that entertain and impress me far more than physical strength or niceness. Stick me in front of an episode of any reality TV show and I will be cheering for the Richard Hatch of the group, the person 10 steps ahead of the others who are too busy braiding each other’s hair to notice.
That’s why I am such a big fan of Courtney, the mean-spirited model on this season of “The Bachelor.” Because even though she ‘s fond of using dated catchphrases like “Winning!”, Courtney is the only one who seems to recognize that after 16 seasons (plus an additional eight of “The Bachelorette”) of final roses, failed engagements and broken hearts, “The Bachelor” is a competition and that winning very rarely results in finding true, lasting love. As a result, Courtney has played “The Bachelor” game with very little regard for the actual “prize” in the end, and watching her has been a master class in manipulating a man. Here’s how she’s done it. Keep reading »
One spring afternoon when I was in high school in New York City, I had a bizarre health scare. A friend and I had been lounging by the Hudson River pretending to read and philosophize but really gossiping about our schoolmates — acting exactly our age.
That afternoon, I had miserable symptoms as I always did when I had my period. So I popped some handy painkillers, waited for them to work, gritted my teeth, yakked some more with my friend, and then went home. Later that evening I noticed myself itching at the hairline, then on my face. Within an hour, I was completely covered with distinct red polka dots which would have been cute on a dress, but were horrifying on my skin. Hurriedly I showered, took Benadryl, and woke up fine the next morning. I assumed it had been a reaction to something on the ground or a tree.
But then it happened again the next time I had my period. So my mother, like the good Jewish mom that she is, marched me to the doctor. There I learned I was allergic to anti-inflammatory medicines: Aspirin, Advil, Aleeve, Motrin and their equivalents. I could only take Tylenol, which didn’t help nearly as much as the other pills had.
This newly-diagnosed allergy posed a big problem. Keep reading »
Earlier this week we discussed the 10 things every woman needs to throw away. Now that you’ve cut down on some clutter and finally parted ways with your high school boyfriend’s Sugar Ray t-shirt, it’s time to talk about the things that every adult woman should have in her home. We won’t cover the absolute necessities like smoke detectors (duh); more like the items you need to transform the vibe of your place from “college dorm room” to “stylish young adult.” Read on for our top picks… Keep reading »