Nina In New York
One Direction is apparently being regarded as “the new British invasion,” just in case the surviving Beatles were looking to get punched in their old, old guts, or just in case the Gallagher brothers were wondering whether they might be able to claw their way back to relevance.
In the wake of Sandy, there was much talk of what would become of our flooded subway tunnels and their revolting occupants. No, I am not referring to mole people, but to the legions of rats who take residence in the maze beneath the city.
Here’s hoping we can all work together for the next four years, and that I never allow myself to get tricked into watching John King and Wolf Blitzer on election night ever, ever again. Drunk Diane Sawyer, on the other hand, is welcome into my living room any old time.
It seems as though a Nor’easter is headed our way, coming up the coast and promising inches of rain, 50 mph winds and . . . maybe snow?
I suppose the rest of the country has never lost sight of this fact (particularly those besieged folks in Ohio), but I’ll be totally honest here. I sorta forgot.
We care about one another, and we know how to prioritize. It shouldn’t take a major disaster to remind us, but it’s good to know it all the same.
After reading the story of Gilberto Valle, the NYPD officer who has been arrested for planning to abduct, rape, torture, cook and eat women, I’m feeling like it may be time to add another lock to the door.
There are only six (6) more shopping days until Halloween, and you know what that means…The Neiman Marcus annual Christmas Book is out!
The debates are over. Boy, does that feel good. Was it just me, or was that rough? Like, really rough? Much rougher than previous years? I feel like we’ve all just been through something traumatic together and come out on the other side.
As it turns out, both “Blue” and “Ivy” were already established parts of speech before they were combined and turned into a celebrity baby name, so some prescient events company in Boston thought of it years ago and therefore won the trademark rights.
It’s the same concept behind the excessive saturation to which we’re subjected in every thematic period—from election coverage to Christmas carols to summer cocktail specials. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.
You thought your Big Mac and Doritos habits only affected you, or perhaps your innocent children, but you were wrong. Turns out that as our country’s population becomes increasingly obese, so have our pups. (Cats, as I understand it, have always been prone to fatness.)
Mitt Romney has a binder full of women. This, he feels, is great news for women. I’m not here to support or dispute that. This is not a political column. We keep things light at this party.
It’s not just that I’m scared of the thought of a rapidly decaying, sentient corpse hellbent on satisfying a monomaniacal, bottomless desire to eat our brains. I am, of course.
But, I thought they had cut operating costs and increased revenue through alternative means, like selling more advertising and launching a pilot program to train mutant-sized rats to drive the trains.