Two Yale Law School students are suing for defamation, after posters using pseudonyms on AutoAdmit.com, "the most prestigious college discussion board in the world," said the two women had Herpes, were — gasp — lesbians, were into group sex, had AIDS, and worst of all, had low LSAT scores. Those posts, which had titles like "stupid-bitch-to-attend-yale-law,"
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I had an eight-dollar rum and coke in hand shortly after nine last night, three drinks in my system and a shiny red VIP pass around my neck. I’d quit worrying that I was freakishly un-freakish amongst this crowd and was ready for my first Marilyn Manson show, which had already begun under the vaulted ceiling
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I, for one, am not looking forward to seeing calorie counts plastered all over the place, per orders of the city Board of Health. I think Starbucks can probably second that. We’ve already been through it together, Starbucks and I, and we appear to have reached the same conclusion: I, the consumer, don’t want to
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I was on the way to Kim’s Video on St. Marks Place this morning to return Brokeback Mountain (I made it through the final scene dry-eyed, but when the credits rolled and Willie Nelson’s voice sang “He was a friend of mine. Every time I think of him, I just can’t keep from cryin,” I sipped my beer and let the tears come.). I stopped for coffee and a croissant at 18 St. Marks. Truth be told, I passed the storefront – since I still associate the Clifford-sized plaster dog atop the awning with Good Dog, the Chicago-style hot dog joint that had until recently occupied the space – but I did a double take when I noticed it was once again open, now called Spot’s Café.

“What happened to Good Dog?” I asked the gruff, heavyset man clad in a maroon apron who seemed to be the owner.

“Just didn’t work out I guess.”

“But you kept the dog?”

“We named him Spot.”

I’d interviewed the owner of Good Dog and the artist who created the giant plaster dog back in March of 2007, when the dog was lying on his back, with his tongue hanging out like he wanted a belly rub, taking up the entire store.

Read full "Giant Dog" here.
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When I bumped into the doorman of our Madison Avenue headquarters this morning, he was pointing his cigarette skyward. Towering above us was what looked like one of those huge inflatable rats, perched atop a black pickup truck. A rat! How delightful! "Nah, I think it’s a gorilla," said the doorman. Indeed, while the bloated
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Josh Sankey, one of the “real” fans on those Knicks commercials we discovered was actually an actor, called me at work hoping to ge a little more mileage out of the story. He wanted us to plug his upcoming comedy show.   Since he signed his follow-up email, “Josh (AKA the double-chinned receding hairlined fat
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To no one's surprise except our hapless Knicks, BECCA TUCKER rev
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BECCA TUCKER discovers that guarding nuclear plants may cause drowsiness
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There was going to be one of those photo-op on site groundbreakings to announce phase two of construction on Harlem River Park —but then it rained. So there was no symbolic shoveling of dirt to kick off the park’s second growth spurt, which will open a new portion of the waterfront and extend the existing
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Warning bells had been sounding for months. Twenty complaints about the shell of the former Deutsche Bank had been logged against the building since February, when its floor-by-floor demolition began. On April 12, the building was cited for “bad house keeping” when it was discovered that plywood was being stored on external scaffolding and was
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