There are few greater summertime pleasures than an ice cold beer with a freshly squeezed lime floating inside it. Except getting the juice — and then the slice of lime — down inside is often more complicated than it should be. That’s why some genius saw fit to create the Citrus Blaster, which first squeezes the lime juice and then plunges the fruit rind directly into your beer. This handy gadget might just be the best invention since beer itself.
It is officially too warm to drink hot coffee in the mornings. Iced coffee season is upon us! It’s a very fun time of year for caffeine addicts, but ceramic mugs are no longer sufficient. The Eco Cold Drink Cup is a green way to keep your iced coffee nice and chilly in the heat. As an added bonus, the insulated wall keeps the outside of the cup from getting “sweaty.” There is nothing worse than a drippy cup during your morning commute.
Hi Frisky readers! Fun fact about me—I love to make and eat food! Now, if Kelly Bensimon were to meet me, I’m sure she’d emphasize in her psychotic way that I am a cook not a chef, and I would agree. That being said, I think I manage to whip up some tasty things in my tiny New York kitchen, so when the mood strikes (I’m aiming for every week), I’m going to introduce you to an easy recipe I’m currently loving. Keep reading »
This weekend, my boyfriend and I were down in Virginia visiting his parents, chit-chatting about his upcoming move to New York from Connecticut. I’m coming up on my 10-year anniversary as a resident of NYC — which apparently makes me “official” — and occasionally think about the other places I might like to live before I put down serious roots (i.e. have kids). I love New York so much, but I also fantasize about glamourous things I can’t get here (well, without serious money), like a backyard with a grill, a garden, and a hammock. My BF is eventually going to be applying to graduate school and while I’m definitely trying not to get ahead of myself, as far as our relationship is concerned, knowing this has made me consider my own willingness to move out of NYC — with or without him. Keep reading »
I yawn, rest my head on my pillow, roll on my side and close my eyes. “Knee,” I say to my husband. He flutters his eyes open and grunts an “I’m sleeping” noise. “Your knee, my love, is jabbing into my back. Can you move it?” As he readjusts his position, he rests his arm on my feet — Oy, this is even more uncomfortable. I tap my feet against his bicep to get his attention. “Your arm,” I tell him. “It’s resting on my feet.”
“Where else can I put it?” he asks. Keep reading »
When it comes to drinking, we’re classy broads. That’s why we’d be more than psyched to sip a glass of Malbec out of Oenophilia Porto’s chic sippy wine goblets. The little feet make them harder to tip over and the straw looks like a tail! Sure, when drunk we may mistake our glass of vino for a headless rodent or a sperm, but at least we won’t be staining our teeth or smudging our lipstick in the process.
I should have been satisfied when my boyfriend agreed to get rid of his forest-green pleather couch — with matching love seat! — before we started living together. But I wasn’t. I’d finally gotten my apartment just the way I wanted it. It was a carefully curated nest of thrifted furniture and vintage Pyrex. Every room was perfect. For me.
But I loved my boyfriend, so I knew that if we were going to be living together, I’d have to at least pretend to love his stuff (save for those hideous couches). I just wasn’t prepared for how much of it he’d have.
The night before he moved in, he drove some things over: seven African masks of varying sizes, at least 30 nearly-empty condiments for the fridge and concert posters. So many concert posters. The posters weren’t framed, but the Coors Light mirror he brought was. Read more… Keep reading »