Enhance What's In Your Pants!

While shopping in Bloomingdale's and taking a stroll through the men's department, I noticed this new product sitting on the shelf next to the normal selection of boxer briefs and wife beaters:

That's right - Man Spanx!!  Now men too have their own collection of blood circulation restricting shape-wear all for themselves!  I went to the website (see the entire collection here) to see what the hell this was all about.  The slogan for the line is "Expect More From Your Underwear!"  Gee - the only thing I had ever expected from my underwear was for it to not ride up my rear!  The undershirt pictured above is a compression shirt and claims to firm the chest, flatten the stomach and support the lower back - basically a man girdle.  But what was more interesting was the collection of underwear.  The Spanx undies boast an extensive list of features designed to keep your man's meat and potatoes cool and happy including:

• Strategic Spanx lift adds dimension and depth for an enhanced profile
• Innovative 3D pouch creates air circulation and reduces irritation in chafe-prone zones; ideal for travel!
• Comfortable compression cotton at the legs and Breatheasy™ Mesh Technology offer perfect fit and cool feel
• Stretch-and-Recover System: Bottoms expand when put on body, yet keep their shape wear after wear
• Long-lasting, high-gauge cotton contours to the body for a close fit
• Moisture-wicking cooling zones under groin

I am not sure what an enhanced profile is, but it worries me.  Is this the male equivalent of the push-up bra?  The 3D pouch and cooling zones sound particularly complicated!  Who knew men required such temperature control for their bits and pieces!  Given their breathability, I suppose they are ideal for travel - on all trips men should always their remember to bring foreign currency, their passport and a pair of Man Spanx, which also come in handy in case of a loss of cabin pressure.  What else do these undergarments do?  Fight crime?  Prepare your taxes?  The one thing I thankfully did not see was a profile enhancing man thong - now that would be just ridiculous!!

I Don't Have Tourette's Or Anything...

I had not seen Stamps all week so we met up for a meal today at Low Country on W 10th for some conversation and southern comfort.  Stamps was in her gym ensemble having come straight from her back to back total body conditioning and yoga classes and perched on a bar stool when I arrived.  The restaurant was surprisingly not too packed and we were seated immediately.  The table behind us was extremely loud among the rest of the mellow, likely hungover brunch crowd, with the baby banging on the table and howling and the grown ups shouting and guffawing at ear splitting volumes.  Me and Stamps were hungry, ignored the raucous and ordered - the Kentucky Hot Brown for Stamps, the Market Omelette of the Day for me and sides of cheese grits and biscuits to share.  While we waited for our meals, three men that looked like they fell out of a Ralph Lauren ad were seated next to us.  We continued to catch up with what we did over the weekend.  Stamps went to dinner Friday night and met up with a couple old friends Saturday night, whereas Friday night, following an art gallery event, I managed to get very tipsy off a combination of shots and vodka martinis at some random Lower East Side bar requiring a night on the couch on Saturday night to recover.

Finally food!  Stamps's meal was this layered concoction of french toast, smoked chicken, bacon, tomato and bechamel sauce with a serving of Old Bay seasoned fries where mine was a simple egg omelette with spring onions, grape tomatoes, asparagus and cheddar with a heap of lightly dressed arugula.  While we were stuffing our faces I overheard the youngest of the three men seated beside us, in his dapper gingham shirt, comment "This is why I only go to expensive restaurants"  He proceeded to complain in his snooty, affected tone that the loud table was "the worst I have ever seen" and "rude" as his companions nodded in agreement.  We were finishing up our meals and settling the bill when I guess the noise got to be too much for gingham and crew and the older dude to my left suddenly bellowed "Maybe if I raise my voice THIS loud I can hear what I'm saying!"  And cue awkward lull of silence by the entire room of stunned diners.

"Wow" one person from the loud table uttered while another rattled on about "What do you expect when you go out to eat?" and "This is New York City!"  Outburst guy turned to the loud table and argued his case for a peaceful brunch experience.  It became the battle of entitled snobs against a loud table of black diners in a southern restaurant - holy freaking southern discomfort!!  Stamps tried to diffuse the tension on our side restaurant and said to the men "So how's it going over there?"  Outburst guy turned and apologized to me and said "I hope I didn't startle you" (he did) and "I don't have Tourette's or anything"  I smiled politely and giggled not at all wanting to be involved or associated with entire situation. We paid and left the restaurant to walk off the food and to debrief the insanity we had just witnessed.  Stamps remarked that "For someone without Tourette's he certainly does a good impression of someone with it!"  I have spent the afternoon mulling over how the situation should have been handled since THAT was definitely not it.  I suppose a word with the waiter or hostess would suffice, but at the end of the day it's just brunch.  You will usually wait for a table, it will get loud, service may be lousy, your eggs may be slightly over/undercooked but it's a time to enjoy good company, have a bite to eat and chill out before the start of a busy work week.  Bottom line - just order another Bloody Mary and relax!!!!

An Easter Sunday Family Fish Fry

I made plans to meet up with my cousins for an Easter brunch in the West Village on what turned out to be the first really warm day of the spring.  I stood on the corner of Waverly and 7th Ave S in front of Morandi, waiting for the cousins to show up at the scheduled meeting time of 1:30 pm.  Attractive families with mamas in silky sundresses, sky-high wedge heels; hubbies in pastel shorts, casual button downs with sleeves rolled up and deck shoes; and their army of children bedecked in Burberry and pushed around in the trendy baby stroller du jour littered the patio along with the usual crowds of fabulous gays and stylish women pretending to eat the food.

(a single turquoise Easter egg in a planter, surrounded by cigarette butts - how charming)

I stood and waited, texting friends and enjoying the spectacular weather but it soon became apparent that the cousins were on Caribbean time and running VERY late.  Lateness in my family is hereditary and I have fought my whole life against my late genes so as to not piss off my boss or alienate all my friends.  As the minutes ticked by I grew more and more impatient and I could feel my blood pressure surging - I called my parents to vent who encouraged me to "just leave already!"  Finally I shot off an angry text "Where are u?  I'm waiting another 10 minutes and then I'm leaving since I will have been standing here for an hour!"   Fortunately, Bad T and Little T arrived not too long after, offering up apologetic hugs and we were seated on the patio.  My foul mood soon lifted once my beloved ricotta fritters were placed in front of me.

Snap, snap, snap - several photos were taken by the waiter with cameras, camera phones.  Bad and Little love taking photos of their beautiful smiles and photogenic faces.  I on the other hand have a serious problem keeping my eyes open any time a camera flash goes off and when a photo cannot be avoided I resort to a cheesy grin with eyes wide with surprise in order to prevent looking like a heavy lidded alcoholic bum.  Little T said I looked "shine" in the pic which is apparently a good thing and does not mean that you need to Proactiv your pores.  I also learned that shine can be used as a verb (like "I'm shinin') when you're getting yourself all pretty.  Man I feel old.  Cousins Big T (brother of Bad T) and Fighter T (brother of Little T)  met up with us for drinks and people watching/weirdo spotting at a bar along W 3rd and then they brought me into Queens to visit the family in NY that I have not visited in my 4 years living here.  About a half an hour later I found myself in Jamaica, Queens surrounded by relatives and piles of yummy food.  The smell of the lamb and duck curries lingered heavily, permeating my hair and clothes but I was too busy taking down a roti filled with crumbly, dried yellow lentils to really care.  I sat on the floor, cross-legged happily eating and catching up with family.  Snap, snap more photos - munch, munch more food.  I was sent home with a couple rotis and as a bonus...fry fish pulled straight from the hot oil (not "fried fish" but "fry fish"- that's just what they call it).  I piled into the back of Bad's compact, 2-door car with my paper bag full of fry fish to catch a ride back to the PATH train and had visions of being followed home by stray cats.  I feared being ostracized by my fellow train riders for the greasy food smells emanating from myself and my doggy bag but luckily I was surrounded by French tourists who themselves are not strangers to odorous foods.

After a shower to scrub the spice from my skin, I settled into bed, exhausted but happy.  There were no Easter bunnies or egg hunts, but who needs any of that boring stuff when you've got family, fun and fry fish to make you feel totally "shine".

Keeping Up With The Kardashians

After brunch today at Mercer Kitchen in Soho, I was doing a little shopping and passed the Kardashian's NYC outpost of their Dash boutique.  Outside the storefront, there was a frenzied mass of what I can only assume were tourists (who were all possibly hopped up on QuickTrim), standing behind a roped off area.  A stern looking doorman was letting people in and out like it was Tenjune or some other crappy Meatpacking District nightclub, while the crowd would lean over the rope thing to peek in the window and take pictures.  It was mayhem!

Women exiting Dash clutched their shopping bags filled with overpriced goods, giddy with having acquired a piece of the K sisters.  These are the damn people that are keeping the Kardashian brand afloat!!!  They keep that horrible show on the air and keep Kim on magazine after magazine with her boobs and butt pushed up and out, staring into the camera with her signature doe-eyed but completely vacant look.  Really, it's pretty amazing that a woman who's most famous for a big ass, a sex tape with Ray J and string of pro athlete boyfriends, has capitalized on her sex-kitten image and made millions slapping her name on a multitude of products and her reality TV show - and taken the whole freaking family along for the ride!  I will admit to watching the occasional episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, mostly to laugh at all the unintelligible comments, stupid antics and just plain stupidity!  Did anyone see the episode where Kim cries over her naked pics in W magazine?  Ummm hellooo you posed NAKED!!!  However, I have zero desire to purchase weight-loss products promoted by the Amazonian-proportioned Khloe, booty-enhancing Bebe duds, eau de fame whore, or awkward looking Skechers toning shoes!  I walked by, shaking my head, only hoping that these people had other activities planned on their NYC itinerary other than catching a glimpse of a Kardashian!

Where Not To Eat

While cleaning my apartment I found a crumpled take out menu for Asian 289, a restaurant in the West Village that me and Stamps had stumbled into to escape the cold and grab a drink ages ago.  The restaurant was memorably strange.  It was dimly lit and packed with diners.  We took a seat next to a cooly detached hipster couple at the bar, surveyed the drink menu and were drawn to the extensive list of $5 cocktails.  I sipped my budget Bellini and took in the atmosphere which was - very odd.  It was like an Italian cafe with a bunch of Japanese lanterns hanging from the ceiling as well as other various Asian tchotchkes.  I picked up the take out menu and it all became clear - this used to be an Italian restaurant!!

(formerly Cucina Stagionale!)

The menu was a schizophrenic mess!  For the appetizer course, selections include miso soup, chicken satay, vegetable samosas, mozzarella sticks and Buffalo chicken wings!  The pasta section features several popular Italian selections like meat lasagna and penne alla vodka but also list pad thai!  Finally, in the "chicken, meat, vegetables" section, the options include chicken marsala, chicken curry, Thai chicken and Korean chicken or beef!  I'm thinking the chances of this place nailing any one of these dishes are slim to none.  There are restaurants that successfully combine Italian and Asian flavors such as Basta Pasta and Greenwich Grill, but from the looks of the anemic looking plates on the tables this was not one of those places.  Me and Stamps finished our drinks and got up to leave just as the hipster couple stopped ignoring each other and suddenly started kissing with an abnormal amount of tongue and spit - gross.  Asian 289 - a good place for a cheap drink and that's about it.

Yummy Yummy, Molecular Gastronomy

Sunday night I met up with Giggles, Skips and Skips's man Specs (I love his glasses) for dinner at wd~50, Wylie Dufresne's Lower East Side shrine to the art and science of molecular gastronomy and #45 on the list of the World's 50 Best Restaurants.  It took us months to get a reservation, so I ate super light that day to make sure I could eat and enjoy every last bite.  Giggles, Skips and Specs had the standard tasting, while I requested a pescetarian tasting.  We ordered a bottle of 2008 Donkey & Goat Chardonnay "Brosseau Vineyard" that was suggested by our waiter since it was in our price range and the bizarre name of the vineyard was intriguing.  We started off with an amuse-bouche of a smokey mackerel, which prepared our tummies for for all of the deliciousness to come.

Next up was the "Everything bagel, smoked salmon threads, crispy cream cheese" which was - SURPRISE - not at all bagel-like but kind of like if a jewish deli decided to churn out ice-cream!  Skips and Specs talked about the $500 vet bill for their ailing dog's bladder infection and their "exemption" list of dudes they are permitted to cheat on each other with.  And then..

Hamachi with asparagus and - SURPRISE - ricotta that looks like little fish eggs.  This was AMAZING and ended up being my very favorite course of the evening.  The others had "Foie gras, passion fruit, chinese celery" - which ended up being Giggles's favorite course.  While we were eating, through the doorless kitchen entrance we could see Wylie himself obsessively plating, drizzling sauces with his brow furrowed as he carefully inspected each dish.  It was surprising to see him there, but impressive to see he hasn't been totally swept up in his celebri-chef status and turned all his food over to his staff.

The "Poached egg in the shell, pumpernickel, caesar dressing, lily bulb" was next for the table - SURPRISE - the egg shell is edible.  I scraped up every last bit of the dressing that I could manage with my fork and would have licked the plate if possible.

Then the "Peekytoe crab roll, salt ‘n vinegar chips, celery mayonnaise" for me and the "King oyster ‘udon’, sweetbreads, banana-molassas, pickled ginger" for the others.  Skips pondered over where sweetbreads come from - I said brain and Giggles said lung.  Both equally gross but both wrong.  They're actually the thymus glands of cows, lambs or pigs in either the throat or heart.  Never a fan of the organ meats, even when I did eat meat, I was happy to munch on my mini chips.

Next course - "Black bass, artichokes, forbidden rice, white chocolate-green olive" for me and "Bay scallops, bone marrow, parsnip, black sesame" for the rest.  The crispy black rice was delicious but I started to feel a fullness in my belly creeping in.

Then "Cod, peas-n-coconut, nori, carrot dashi" for me and gnocchi in a beef broth for the rest of the crew.  The gnocchi was Specs's favorite for the night.  I sipped my wine now completely focused on my growing discomfort.  Skips looks around for celebrities, but sadly there are none in the restaurant tonight.   He then recalled his Lucy Liu spotting at 15 East, Giggles recalled her spotting of "that dude from Sex and the City who wanted to pee on Carrie" and I could only think of the time I saw Cousin Larry from Perfect Strangers having a drink with some dude that was on Nip/Tuck at Corner Shop Cafe.  Sadly, Balki Bartokomous was not there.

Finally, "Monkfish, white bean-brown butter, blood orange, brussels sprouts" for me and "Squab breast, cheese pumpkin, corn bread, pickled cranberries" for my also stuffed dining companions.  A squab is a young pigeon but tasted pretty much like chicken according to Specs.  I had eaten most of my plate, thus officially consuming every gill-bearing vertebrate in the ocean.

We then were served our "pre-dessert", a concoction of white beer ice cream, apple, caramel, caraway.  Giggles loves a good foam and dug in.  I took one bite of the foam and said "It tastes like when I get shampoo in my mouth!"  I can't recall when I've ever gotten shampoo in my mouth but it was oddly bitter and herbal in a way that I would imagine a mouthful of Pantene suds would taste.

Then dessert number one - "Grapefruit curd, campari, hibiscus, sorrel"  The sorrel was that green gel dot on the side.  The piece of campari infused grapefruit was polarizing at our table.  Skips nearly gagged on it while me and Giggles delighted in the sweetly sour flavor.  I was seriously about to explode at this point.

I had really hit my limit when the Jackson Pollock of desserts (see above) was placed in front of me - "Soft chocolate, beet, long pepper, ricotta ice cream"  I let out a slight whimper of near defeat as I dug my spoon into the chocolate but soldiered on.  Our plates were cleared and our waiter asked us if we wanted anything else to which Specs replied "Can we see a dessert menu?"  And then the check came...they presented the check with chocolate pouches and frozen rice krispy treats to soften the blow.

Giggles got up from the table and declared "Thank god I wore stretchy pants!"  The rest of us were not so fortunate.  Molecular gastronomy had turned into gastrointestinal distention and I wanted to go home immediately and swap my non-stretch jeans for sweat pants.  But it was a great, albeit expensive experience!  Fine dining in a casual setting, amazing eats and a bottle of wine with fun foodie friends.  Wylie stood at the back of the dining room as we were leaving with a smile on his face, looking EXACTLY like he does on his appearances on Top Chef with his slightly crooked glasses and his distinctive long locks and sideburns.  He deserved a bit of a break from his mad scientist kitchen creations and watched the diners savoring their meals.  The whole evening was worth every penny and I will reflect fondly on this dinner as I spend the next month eating ramen noodles!

New York, You're Not Much Better...

My last post was a bit unfair to the state of New Jersey so I decided to see if there are comparable establishments in the state of New York.  A quick Google search for "adult motels nyc" turned up some real winners, as well as the The Benedict Motel in Linden, NJ again!

First on the list is the Commack Motor Inn in lovely Commack, NY (see this hooker haven here).  A mere hour on the Long Island Railroad from Penn Station will get you to this pleasure palace where all beds are "triple-sheeted", an expanded X-rated video library is at your disposal and local calls are free!  However, there is a $200 cleaning fee charged if you smoke in the room and no pets are allowed on the premises, so all post-coital cigarettes will have to be had outside in the parking lot and that no pet rule was likely instated as a result of some previous horrific incident.  For a mere $35 for three hours, you too can feel like you were magically transported back to some 70's swingers den.  Note:  Triple-sheeting sounds like some kind of protective measure to shield the occupant of the bed from the well-used, bed bug infested mattress but actually just refers to the usual bottom sheet and icky blanket sandwiched between two flat sheets setup found at most cheap motels/hotels.  Next up, The Hollywood Motel in Farmingdale, NY (also Long Island) for slightly (and I mean slightly) more luxurious accommodations AND fabulous "fantasy rooms" to set the scene for seduction (see it here).  The Exotic Dancer Room features black vinyl padded walls and a stripper pole with a stage!  But the special promotions are quite the deal!  If you choose to celebrate your birthday at The Hollywood, you will receive a "special surprise gift".  Sounds like fun so long as it's "surprise here's a free cake!" and not "surprise you have gonorrhea!"  Also, there's a 10% discount if you bring in a current date movie ticket.  I've heard of dinner and a movie date nights but not so much dinner, a movie and then getting pawed among the "steamy jungle decor" of The Cheetah Room.

Finally, if you're looking for a place sans all the bells and whistles to get it on, Time Out New York has compiled a list of the best no-tell motels in and around the city (see the list here).  La Semana actually looks tolerable, but a walk of shame out of the Days Inn Brooklyn?  Only if the bed is triple-sheeted.