Earlier this month, the head chef of Alinea restaurant in Chicago, Grant Achatz, made headlines when he tweeted about some of his patrons:
The facts: Dinner at this chi-chi eatery restaurant requires a $210+ non-refundable/exchangeable tickets to be purchased two to three months in advance, and they’re only good for the date and time that you paid for. The dining couple in question had a babysitter that fell through. Not wanting to waste their reservation or the money they had already paid, they ended up at Alinea with their eight-month-old baby, much to the chagrin of their fellow diners and Chef Achatz. Keep reading »
One of the hazards of apartment living are thin walls and floors that share your every “Oh, baby!” and bed creak with your neighbors. It’s part of life. You get used to it. All of us have sex (I hope) and no one’s sex should be ruined by whiny neighbors.
The polite thing to do when neighbors are having noisy sex is just ignore those amorous rumbles and smile awkwardly at each other in the hallways, pretending you don’t know they just got banged last night. Only in the most extreme of circumstances — I’m talking you’ve got the flu and a newborn baby — can you bang on the walls. Two or three good thumps should do.
But it’s a violation of alllll kinds of rules of decorum and not-being-an-asshole-hood to post a sign on your neighbor’s front door bitching about their noisy sex. And adding a dis about their stamina?! Oh no, you didn’t! Allow me to introduce you to the lady from Apartment 517 and her crappy sign-writing neighbor. Keep reading »
Karma’s a bitch, dude. This morning, I was frolicking through Starbucks, smiling to myself about how awesome my life has gotten. On Friday, I’m moving out of my parents’ house and into my own apartment. Today I woke up next to my new Gentleman Caller the night after we decided to date each other exclusively. The sun is shining. The birds were trilling. Tra la la la la la la!
And then I ran into the woman whose ex-boyfriend cheated on her with me two years ago. A woman who didn’t respond to my multiple apologetic emails because, let’s be honest, she probably hates my putrid guts. Keep reading »
Most of us would like to think that if we saw a pregnant, elderly or handicapped person on the train or subway, we would offer up our seat in a jiffy. But a nifty social experiment done on the New York City subway by Elizabeth Carey Smith of Brooklyn, New York, during her recent pregnancy found that while she was offered a seat the majority of the time, good manners were not guaranteed. Keep reading »