Davis - My favorite things... Aka best sexual positions

Not that you care, but I've decided, since we missed all of the year end round ups, I was planning ons starting a trend and announcing some of my favorite things. Give that I have exquisite taste and an eye for sarcasm, hope that you'll enjoy.

Favorite Women
1.) My Girlfriend, she is the smartest, most gorgeous, giving, precious thing you will ever lay eyes on. However, I'll stab you in the eyes if you were ever to lay yours upon her. I even keep her picture in my passport. Moving on.
2.) Tina Fey, she's seriously perfect, smart, nerdy, hot, the funniest person on the planet, I luh her.
3.) Natalie Portman, she's a Harvard graduate, she's cute, funny, dorky and still pretty fucking incredible. If I were dorky, I'd mention that she was in Star Wars, but I'd rather point out that she did V for Vendetta and Garden State in/around the same year.

Favorite Bars in New York
1.) The Cutting Room, don't go here alone, but if you've got a date, bring them here. If you can get a table, get a table, if you can get a seat at the bar, then by god, get a seat at the bar. Be nice and they're nice, I've loved this place endlessly for the last 8 years.
2.) Ninja, not a bar, but a restaurant, go the, "Ninja way," by all means, please, if given the opportunity. Even if you're not a fan, try the jack and coke, see what happens...
3.) Club Pegu, They'll find a place for you, prepare yourself for one of the best made whatevers you decide to order.

Favorite Beer to Drink when at home
1.) Blue Moon, it was Duke's that did it to me, putting that slice of orange in my drink (what kind of a goddess does that?). Every Tuesday, they're beautiful and I love them.
2.) Delerium Tremens, given the fact that I often experience just what the brand name offers upon drinking the beverage, it's true to name branding. Good luck finding it, if you do, you must try both the original and the dark.
3.) Miller Chill, yes, I know, a light beer, but it is still only available in very limited quantity in New York City. I can buy it in a 12 pack if I'm in Florida or Wyoming, but not in New York for some reason, why is that?

Favorite Television Shows
1.) Dirty, Sexy, Money, ok Writer's Strike is over, come back now!
2.) Gossip Girl, I wouldn't feel comfortable listing this, except that RK and I have had a conversation and he loves this show too. It's well written, realistic (in that HS kids are doing drugs and doing each other) and the women are absolutely gorgeous!
3.) Rob & Big, my friend SKATE BOARD P says that this would be him if we were ever able to make money over absolutely nothing, it's impossible to watch this show and not smile though. Seriously.

Favorite Songs from 2007
1.) Stronger - Kanye West, his opening of the Grammies confirmed it. Yes, it went mainstream and I don't feel completely comfortable with everyone knowing that I deem this the best song of '07, but I'm amongst friends.
2.) Parting of the Sensory - Modest Mouse, I think it's only moments before this song is used as the background to a trailer or during a chase scene in Ireland... "Some day you will die some day and someone's going to steal your carbon." Well said.
3.) Boy With a Coin - Iron & Wine, the song's cooked crack and I'm hooked. Giving it up for my favorite singer who's also a filmmaker. You've heard him on the Garden State Soundtrack, in case you're saying, "Who?".

Favorite Films from 2007
1.) There Will Be Blood - The film was robbed at the Oscars, by a yet again, give them the award because they deserved it in the past (Coen Bros.).
2.) Cloverfield - Marketing efforts paid off, I like the film, I liked all of the hidden stuff in the film. I loved the viral ads for the film.
3.) Once - I didn't list "Falling" as one of my songs, so I have to give it up for Glen here. The film's not a musical, but it definitely comes close. You probably haven't seen it, so go rent it. Women and men will both appreciate it.

Favorite Yoga Positions
1.) Westward Pose (Paschimottasana)
2.) Downward Facing Pigeon Pose (Adho Muka Kapotasana Kapotasana)
3.) Side Staff Pose (Parsva Dandasana) 'nuff said (no homo)

Favorite Cures for a Hangover
1.) Sex
2.) Weekend Brunch at Dos Caminos (SoHo), mmm, I wish I had a hangover, r-i-g-h-t now...
3.) More alcohol, I think this list might be upside down, why is it when you have one you don't need the other?


Favorite Cocktails
1.) Smoked Coke Bourbon - at Tailer
2.) Island Drink - at Dylan's Prime
3.) Sidecar - at Flatiron Lounge

Favorite Comedy from 2007 (best movie to watch and laugh at while drunk)
1.) Superbad, made me want to be back in High School. I didn't even like High School.
2.) Knocked Up, "Last night, I googled 'murder'."
3.) Goodluck Chuck, there's a nudy feature on the DVD. What more do you need when you're drunk?

That's all I got for now, I want to thank everyone for their support and for reading the words. We appreciate it =)

- Davis

Joey - Everybody Nose

This city has a major coke problem. I'm not talking about the stuff that you buy from vending machines, although it wouldn't surprise me if vending machines like that existed somewhere in this city. Seemingly, it doesn't matter if you're in a dive bar or a five star hotel bar, the white powdery substance always seems to be within proximity. Incidentally, I started becoming more aware of the growing problem after having a run in at a bar the other night.

I was out having a few drinks with some friendx, when I looked over and noticed this guy, unapologetically staring at me. From what I could tell he seemed fairly decent, about 28 years old, well dressed, professional type, no reason to be alarmed I thought. Finally, after about 45 minutes he gets up the nerve to approach me. But before even saying hello he directs my attention down to his hand where he was a holding a small metal vile. I must have had a puzzling look on my face, because he then proceeded to gesture by raising his hand to his nose and sniffling. Thanks, I got it...

The puzzling look of course, was not out of confusion, but shock. I was speechless. I just thought to myself, he can't be serious. Is this the future of pick up schemes? Is this where women stand in New York? A guy gives me coke and I owe him head? I don't like to sound old fashioned, but what ever happened to, “Can I buy you a drink?” Needless to say, after that incident I was a little irritated and to be quite honest , insulted. Do I look like someone who takes cocaine from strangers at a bar?

What surprised me even more was the response I got after explaining what happened. Nobody seemed to be shocked. In fact almost everyone I was with admitted to being in a similar situation at some point. What is wrong with this city? I can't imagine this sort of thing happening outside of New York.

So then a couple days later I come across this article in the travel section of gridskipper.com. The article was entitled “Cocaine is Everywhere” and lists the top 16 bars in New York City to do cocaine at. For example number 14:

Lit Lounge

“The dingy music venue is packed with college kids enduring their friends' horrific bands. The bathrooms are definitely not clean but still quite active. Either it's aspiring rockers going for the cokehead lifestyle “.

I can certainly agree with that, but I had to turn my nose up at number 13.

Soho Grand

“Another standard-issue celebrity and socialite coke spot, as opposed to our dirty and divey picks. The Soho Grand hotel's immaculate bar bathroom is a dependable favorite for the rich and trendy to snort away. “

Just further evidence that this city is crawling with cokeheads..

http://gridskipper.com/travel/new-york/cocaine-is-everywhere-267606.php

BF NYC - Advice to Women; How to Make a Sex Tape (and make sure it stays private)

Subj: PSA- How to make a sex tape (advice to women...) from yours truely

Okay, so I know that you, my lovely lady would never consider such a thing... Ever... At all! However, should you find yourself with such a perfect gentleman and should said gentle man make the suggest digitally recording what 100% of the time happens prior to your post-coital bliss.

Here are a few simple rules to follow then little angels:

Proceed how you normally would when making love to your significant other, let these little ditty's fly, loudly:

- God, you're so... smaaaallll!
- It smells weird.
- Are you going to cry this time?

Guarantee, you that tape stays with him and him only.

LYLAS,
BF NY

PS- read the blogs dolls, maybe even some comments :*

Davis - When Davis met Joey, AKA Sex in the Shower

photo courtesy of Wing Tat Yeong

It was a relationship at least one year in the making, soaked in alcohol and delayed by a couple people she wanted to date before she decided that I'd be good enough. I had my own issues too though, I felt like we were perfect for each other and I was willing to wait forever... I also had cancer, on my neck (it's gone now) and I didn't want her to have to deal with that.

It was Halloween night, neither of us were dressing up and we were at The Cutting Room one of my favorite bars (at the time) in New York City. I've actually heard that it's closed now, but the website proves otherwise. So we were those guys, the ones dressed normally on a night when all the girls were sluts for Halloween, there were enough sexy nurses, sexy cats and sexy axe murders to make a gentleman such as myself roll his eyes. YOU'RE TRYING TOO HARD! Repression leads to activities that often lead to regret, which more often than not leads to suicide. Which only really deals with you, so go ahead, be Avril Levigne circa 2003 minus the bra and I'll be sure at some point in the night to put the tie between my teeth and be that guy and take that picture. Seriously women, you want our attention, walk around with a feather all night, when people ask what you are, tell them that you're a fluffer, who works on a porn set. The attention earned will be exactly what you wanted and you'll get at least 20 cocks shoved in your face.

Yet, I digress, Joey, that Joey, she ordered one of the evening's specials, she had a cocktail, I don't remember what, but it was black and at the bottom were three candy corns. She peered through her bangs, pupils swollen as hell, as we ignored every ass cheek that pranced by. Eventually I was rubbing her beautiful thigh. Off to the coke den, I mean bathroom, the bathroom attendant at the Cutting Room had been the same, since 2002, he always remembered me, I always gave him a dollar and he always offered me cologne, gum or a mint. I never took offense to that and being that he went on to become Akon, I doubt he took offense to only paying a dollar, the millions of times I frequented the bathroom at The Cutting Room.

That night, after a long conversation, that was full of innuendo and smiles, all the things a courting couple likes. I grabbed her hand and she called a taxi and she didn't let go, she held on as the taxi cab came to a stop. She was pulling me in.

"What's your address?" not asking because that's where we were going, she was asking because she wanted to know.

"529 Broome St." I said, "Between Thompson and Sullivan..."

"529 Broome St., between Thompson and Sullivan," she leaned forward telling the cab driver.

Now, the events that followed, Davis will never allow himself to type, but I will let you know that the peek did not actually come until about 4:00 PM the next day.

When Joey, my beautiful Joey, fulfilled a long unfulfilled fantasy of mine. She brought an ice cold Negro Modelo to me in the shower.

Then she joined me in the shower.

Then I fell out of the shower, taking the shower curtain with me and all...

Davis - Editorial

I'm going to tell you how it happened, then I'm going to tell you why, then you can tell me who's right...

Cute right? She had just returned from a long day of orientation for her new job, I had just quit my job over a very drawn out incident involving a man in a bunny costume (a week ago). I was job hunting all day, then writing, then taxes, then for whatever reason we had about an hour's worth of dishes to do, so I did them. In New York, barely anyone has dish washers, they don't come with your apartment and there's no room for them anyway. The second she got home she was in a rush, but looking through the mail, she said she had to go to the bank real quick and asked if would I drive her? Of course, see to her I had been sitting here since nine o'clock (when she left), to me I had just returned from a long day of annoying bull, none of which contributed to my 401k.

So we're in New York, but we have a parking garage at our Apartment, so through the electrical gate, I back out, to drive to the bank, in streets that are so narrow, and packed with cars, parked on both sides that I feel like I'm in London, but driving an SUV. So we get to the bank, I have to double park, long story short, we're back on the couch. See the things I do to show a woman that I love her? Not Elizabethan but about as modern as chivalry can get.

Flipping through the DV-R, she overwhelms the room with a giddy shriek that only a man who loves can appreciate. I smile too, because I've been waiting all day to make her happy...

So what could possibly have made her this happy? I don't even have her attention anymore...

"Angel, do you want a drink or anything?" I ask her, getting up thinking she wants a glass of Winter Sangria or maybe one of the passion fruit mojito's I've been making this week.

"No thanks, I'm good," she is not even in the room right now. She might as well be in another country.

And here's where it all started, "I cut off my penis today..." I tested.

She had no reply.

"I gave it to a homeless man..."

She wasn't even watching the show, she was fast-forwarding.

"He loved it..."

It was a scene straight out of Scrubs, she looked over at me and said, "That's so sweet, baby," and smiled.

Fucking American Idol, seriously, where do the Producers and the Executives at Fox get off airing two two-hour a night shows in one week, then another fucking hour on Thursday, just to fuck with me! Do I really need to sit through this shit for five hours out of my week. At the before mentioned job, which I just quit, there were throngs of illegal immigrants (who worked under American names) and a lot of people living out the second stint of their M-1 Visas. ALL of them flocked out at punch-out time, in droves, Tuesday-Thursday, just to see American Idol.

Let me give you a bit of history of A.I. and Davis. It has been at least partially responsible for the last three break-ups in my life. Those break-ups, in length, if boiled together would be six years worth of a relationship. All over some grown ass people who act like Musical Theater Majors, yet for the most part they've all been out of school for three or four years!

Seriously ladies?

...

Really?

REALLY!?

Okay, if there were more McPhee's...

Bring back McPhee, if you want me to not kill myself.

The bottom line, I'm sorry that I sound like Seth & Amy on Weekend Update, but American Idol might be the reason I drink. I'm not sure yet, but if my magic 8 ball had anything to say about it, "Sources say yes." It was around that time that I set the alarm on my cell phone for 6:45 and left it on vibrate under my pillow.

When it became 6:45 the next morning (Friday morning), my phone vibrated and woke me up, luckily it didn't wake her up... So I could go forward with my plan, toss and turn, just keep tossing and turning, until she woke up and had to ask me, "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep, the whole night, I couldn't sleep..."

"Oh no! Are you sick?" she perks up, as if her five hour American Idol marathon meant she gave a fuck.

"Last night, I told you that I had cut off my penis, gave it to a homeless man, and he 'loved it'. And you just smiled and said, 'that's amazing', then tortured me for the next five hours with American Idol..."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" She springs up and walks out of the room.

I sprang up too and walked out of the room, she wants to leave me? No, I'm going to leave her first, "NO! You fucking stay, I always have to go to the fucking bedroom when we fight, you stay in the bedroom and I'm going to play couch commando," and I started towards the couch.

And with that she walked past me, back into the bedroom.

That was it, that was the last time I saw her, before Xunta (where she looked better than she's ever looked, by the way). Who owes who the apology? And who will crack? Will I be Jennifer Anniston or Vince Vaughn?

Davis - Delerium Tremens

It was at least partially Amp_Live's fault. That and my second venture into Absinthe... This time the real stuff from my friend Edgar Allen Poe. Baltimore does not fuck around, let me write this as my good friend Brett Ellis would:

... and she wouldn't say, at least I couldn't get her to. So I insisted that everyone else at the table would talk about the first time they got head and then we would stop her, never giving her the opportunity to tell us about her time.

[/B.E.E.]

I stared at the quiet late twenty something in the corner, who undoubtedly could show me about twenty new positions that I'd never fathomed. My girlfriend and I were on a break, which is impossible when you have the same friends. We were at another one of those places you had to walk downstairs to get to. I had grown tired of speakeasies since Page 6 outed them and suggested a new place for us, which was known for its Sangria or in female language, they just say aphrodisiac.

As the writer in the column put so eloquently when she quoted an owner as saying, that, "You think a place is new, hip and cool, then you look around and wonder where all these people from Jersey came from..." No more Bon Jovi or Springstein and Zach Braff is fucking dead to me. So I went with a place they'd never know about, because it's been about 7 years since it was mentioned in Time Out or City Search for that matter. Please don't get me wrong some of my great friends and family are from Jersey (no seriously), so please don't take that as unwarranted hate...

But for the most part when a friend from Jersey suggests/wants to go to a place it's like a friend from Europe asking if you've heard of a record that's been played out here for six months.

We join me during my sixth glass of Sangria at-

Xunta
174 1st Ave.
10th & 11th Sts.
East Village
212.614.0620

Seated at the wooden rum barrel tables, we were a large party so we stretched out over two of them. I had started the current conversation, we were all talking about the first time we got head. Fitting that the Sangria was just about the sourest thing you'd ever drank, sorry if some of you don't get that, but those some of you may not be from the same dating pool that I have swam; and with the exception of my beautiful break girl, everyone was telling their story.

There were tales from the boys of getting pubic hairs stuck in braces, tales from the girls of sucking for what felt like an hour, with no response, I told my own story about non-vaginal dentata, not being able to walk the next day due to the extreme chaffing. There was a story about a silly boy who insisted on liking the girls asshole, knowing that it was the "bottom hole" that was her vagina, not her top hole, one of our poor civilians get lock jaw, another boy a sprained neck when his girl of choice squeezed her thighs and twisted so hard... Then Tucker chimed in with one of his dumbass stories, still upset over one of his parents getting divorced recently and the fact that his Mom at one point blew me.

All of a sudden that woman in the corner, from earlier in the story, started going crazy, clapping and snapping, grabbed another guy from across the room, and I swear to God what I saw next was about as close to raw sex in the middle of a dance floor as can be legal in Manhattan. There was long dark curly hair swirling everywhere, spider knit stockings, shoving up to a man who couldn't have been over 5'4")'s shoulder. And the gyrating and slow move clawing and the even slower sliding of one body part against another.

I'd had about 8 glasses and I was behind everyone else, but my eyes darted across the table towards the other and I think we were all fucking hypnotized. Every woman's pupils swelled to the size of golfballs, every man sat a little deeper into his seat and I loved each moment of what was going on. It was like screening Secretary at a Sexaholics meeting.

I poured myself another drink out of the make shift pitcher our lovely waitress had afforded us, that Spanish guitar had my heart, but everyone at our two tables had my eye. This was the start of a fucking beautiful night. The lovely flamenco dance had ended, women struggled to compose themselves, the men just kind of kept staring.

"That made you wet didn't it?" I whispered into the ear of the girl next to me.

"Probably," she laughed to herself, that drunk laugh that women do, still in awe.

"Let me check," I said and quickly tried to slide my hand between her thighs. "Just kidding," I stopped, but I wasn't kidding at all, I'm just a pussy. She appreciated the gesture all the same, I'm sure.

"Everyone!" I stood up and announced that, "I have a special cap to the evening, unfortunately, it's three blocks from here..." Knowing that none of them were ready for what I was about to introduce them to at my friend Ryan's apartment.

"Oh?" uttered one of the pale things from the circular edge of the next table over. She was redheaded, with curly, bouncy hair, so I was nice to her, she's probably been shit on her whole life...

"Absinthe..." I paused for effect, "Does no one read my blogs?" I smiled, I think maybe four of them had read my blogs. This is actually better, because none of them have a clue as to what they're about to get themselves into.

For me, I kind of knew, the stuff that we have in America, it doesn't have the wormwood, which creates the hallucinogenic effect. That's the only type I had drank the American kind.

Let's skip forward to the part where we all ended up at Ryan's apartment, he was the expert, sugar cubes, green liquid turned murky clear, I drank and holy fuck was I fucked. Despite the fact that it was 180 proof there was also the worm wood. I finally got to meet the Green Fairy and I loved that little douche bag

At one point, I offered to cut off an ear, not mine, but one of my friends. It was the girls, (huh?) who were all the ones encouraging me to do this... I thought that women were here to keep us civilized. At one point I had convinced everyone it was a good idea to take off their pants and we all did, those of us that had pants. Imagine that, button ups with no pants, grown ass men, women in their thongs and pantis in their Tuesday night's best shirt. I'm sorry if I keep referring to us as men and women, we're all younger than 27 (just as a slight editorial).

So very soon as the pants off dance off begins, one of the older ones, Elizabeth begins to freak out, apparently she's got to get home and get home now, she takes off running towards the front door, does a nose dive into the front door, she's still not wearing pants. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the nose dive, I feel bad for her and rush over to help her up.

"Darling, you're not wearing pants, where are you going?" I say as I help her up, feeling partially responsible.

"I need to get the fuck out of here, one of those girls was talking about my tits and I SWEAR TO GOD-" I grab her mouth and stop her there.

"Where are you pants at?" I motion to a pile of pants.

"They're Seven's..."

And I dive into a bunch of thrown about jeans, looking for that annoying butt pocket insignia. Found them quickly, I hand them to her.

She looks at the inside tag, "These are 2's, you think I'm a 2?" She looks at me like I'm the truth.

I have no clue, what's a 2? I'm a 32... "Try them on anyway..."

She looks at me like she could fuck me right there on the spot.

Then she looks really depressed, "I'm a six," throwing the pants back at me after an unsuccessful button up job.

I want to kill whatever bitch is that 2, I could have just forgotten all about my break with my girlfriend, but no, seriously whoever is this anorexic/bulimic chick at this party, she seriously owes me a lay...

Found her 6's, she put them on, buttons them up with only a 'little' bit of effort, which required laying down and zipping and buttoning. She's a fucking alien, but for whatever reason, something inside of me wants to make sure she gets home okay. I put my own jeans on.

"Okay... Well, let me walk you down then," the apartment's on the 2nd Floor, but I can help the woman get a cab.

She finds a cab immediately, "Okay, thanks!" She jumps in, but traffic stops.

I return to the apartment door, ringing the buzzer.

"Do you want to come down to my place?" She figured out how to roll down the window in the cab... I don't know how, her eyes haven't uncrossed since her concussion attempt with the door.

"Yeah, I can, I guess," I walk to the cab door with all the aw-shucks I can muster. These East Coast women love that fucking George W. Bush shit. I've got to patent the 'Fuck me, I'm Republican' t-shirt idea.

I get into the cab, I tell her that I have a friend that lives in her same complex, which I actually do.

Then that fucking Green Fairy hit me again, I get consumed with the fact that the cab driver is actually going to kidnap us, he's going to kidnap us, sell us to some fucking terrorist organization and we're going to end up in the Wall Street Journal with a machete to our necks. This mother fucker would like nothing more than two blond haired, blue eyed American as shit looking kids, they would probably make a million a piece off of us in the slave market.

At this point, I swear to God Broken Social Scene, "Bandwitch" began playing. I was looking around New York as if it were new again, we weren't in fucking New York, we'd driven south of Staten Island. Were we in New Jersey? I fucking have no clue, I'd never been to New Jersey...

You know the song that's playing, the mood is eerie to say the least, I need to throw up, Elizabeth is passed out and everything feels very long, thin and orange to me. Had I had a gun, my brains would be all over the back of this cab.

The cab comes to a stop, he tells me that we're here, I look out the window, "This isn't it!" I declare, I look out all of the windows, I'm frantic, "This is not where she asked you to go."

I try to wake Elizabeth up. No luck.

"Take us back! Take us to 13th and 1st!" I declare and behave as if Elizabeth and I are refuges, we'll get through this as long as we have each other. I am protector of all things blue eyed and blond haired, fuck anyone that wants to make a million off of us.

I must have passed out, because we got back to familiar territory quick as shit. Cab stopped on 13th and 1st and $28 later I am back to the same place where I got into the cab. I give the man $35 out of my billfold, somehow, and I am on my way.

Walking down 13th towards Ryan's apartment and I am feeling perfect. Finally I hear the honking, in New York you block out the honking, "SIR!"

"Get your girlfriend out of my car Sir!" The Cab has stopped there are many cars piled up behind him, all honking.

Shit! I forgot Elizabeth in the Cab.

Okay, I walk down to the Cab, open the back door.

I kind of shake her thigh, "Elizabeth, you need to wake up now..."

Somehow the Seven Jeans aren't stopping her thigh from jiggling under my constant pulses on her thigh to wake up.

Suddenly she springs up! Shoving her fucking Steve Madden three inch heel directly into my cheek, she punches me in the side of the head, "Get the fuck off of me!!!" She screams to all, blood murder, "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!"

I lunge forward to calm her down, "ELIZABETH, CALM DOWN!" I have both of my hands on her shoulders now, shoving her down and she is kicking and punching, flailing about with all the tiny might she can muster.

I feel someone from behind wrap me around my waist and pull me back.

"Are you okay Ma'am?" someone from a crowd that has formed around us shouts.

I'm so utterly embarrassed, I just wonder away from the scene and end up at Ryan's apartment.

Davis - Happy Valentine's Day!

Okay, I'm going to take a short break from shopping for lingerie that I wish my girlfriend would wear and give a couple quick recommendations on where to go tonight (or any other night) if you're in the Valentine's mood and some for if you're definitely not in the Valentine's Day mood.

I'm going to try to be quick, so you all can get this before you leave work.

• Bar Recommendations, for the one who forgot to plan anything, neither of which had a website:

The East Side Company Bar
49 Essex St , New York , NY , 10002
Accessible speakeasy charm deep in the Lower East Side.

The Back Room
102 Norfolk St , New York , NY , 10002
Covert Lower East Side bar flies under the radar of the neighborhood's scene.

Justin Hartung at City Search has posted this restaurant list which I approve of:

Special Deals

1.
Eleven Madison Park
11 Madison Ave, New York, NY
The seven-course tasting menu costs $225 per person at Danny Meyer's New American queen bee.

2.
Savoy
70 Prince St, New York, NY
Fireplaces add an extra romantic touch to this four course dinner for $95 a person.

3.
Daniel
60 E 65th St, New York, NY
For a super-extravagant night, feast on four courses here for $295 per person.

4.
Pera Mediterranean Brasserie
303 Madison Ave, New York, NY
The four-course menu at this Turkish restaurant in Midtown costs $65, and includes a champagne toast.

5.
Fiamma
206 Spring St, New York, NY
Five courses of upscale Italian fare will run you $150 per person at this Soho gem.

6.
Telepan
72 W 69th St, New York, NY
Woo your valentine with this Upper West Side's $78 (per person) four-course tasting menu.

7.
Fig & Olive Downtown
420 W 13th St, New York, NY
This Meatpacking District restaurant is offering three courses for $50 per person (or $60 with a half bottle of champagne)

8.
Graffiti
224 E 10th St, New York, NY
If you're lucky enough to get one of the few tables available, you'll enjoy an eight-course tasting menu for $80 per couple (which includes a bottle of wine).

9.
Fleur de Sel
5 E 20th St, New York, NY
The five-course tasting menu costs between $135 and $155 depending on the seating time.

10.
Benjamin Steakhouse
52 E 41st St, New York, NY
This three-course meal costs $99 per person, and includes a champagne toast.

11.
Annisa
13 Barrow St, New York, NY
The four-course meal costs $110 per couple, with an optional wine pairing for an extra $38.

12.
Garage Restaurant and Cafe
99 7th Ave S, New York, NY
Live jazz sets a romantic mood for this four-course, which costs $75 per person.

13.
Dressler
149 Broadway, Brooklyn, NY
This Williamsburg favorite is offering three courses for $70 per person.

14.
Matilda
647 E 11th St, New York, NY
A hundred bucks per couple brings five courses (and a free glass of Prosseco if you mention Citysearch).

15.
Chez Oskar
211 Dekalb Ave, Brooklyn, NY
The four-course menu at this cozy Fort Greene bistro will run you only $35 per person.

16.
SavorNY
63 Clinton St, New York, NY
The four-course menu costs $50 per lovebird.

17.
AGAVE
140 7th Ave South, New York, NY
Premium tequila tastings accompany each of the courses on this $75 (per person) menu.

• For the Anti-Valentine:

Grub Street recommends (for men) Robert's Steakhouse (davis- I don't know about that one last minute) and (for women) New Green Bo (no website, 66 Bayard St New York, NY 10013 (212) 625-2359) be sure to go across the street to get ice cream afterwards or Seymour Burton...

• Davis recommends:

McSorley's
15 E. Seventh St
New York, NY 10003
(212) 473-9148

Come get beers by the twos, in light or dark for next to nothing at all.

Okay, back to shopping.

Love,
Davis

RK - Bathroom sex is NOT overrated

...though it can be cramped. Those twelve seconds you wait for the huge glass door to fog up after you've secured the latch, seem to last forever.

Thoughts race through your mind quicker than a drunken suburban teenager's Honda Civic. "Will my real girlfriend see me in this SoHo bar bathroom with this bridge and tunnel jersey slut?" Worse yet, "Will my friend see me with his girlfriend?"

Yes, they are one in the same, and both very important things to worry about. In a city of millions of people, somehow you always run into the wrong people at the wrong times. None the less, you don't let these thoughts slow you down. Your letting your dick do all the thinking anyway, and he's telling you there is no way anybody you know is going to catch a glimpse of you in this vexing situation. You already have your excuse. "The stalls were full, we're friends, we're sharing a stall, I'll piss in the sink while she snorts a line off the back of the toilet" bingo bubba, you're in, there is no way anybody in their right mind would not believe that.

Of course in Lower Manhattan, no one is in their right mind. These are all moot points. If you're paying for this girls (guys/animals/transvestites) drinks all night you better damn sure be getting free sex out of the deal. And that brings me to the start of my review.

Bar 89

89 Mercer St.,
New York, NY 10012
212-274-0989

There South of Houston, on Mercer Street, lies a bar containing bathrooms which were rated the "BEST bathrooms to have sex in, in ALL of New York City" This little bar, nestled between Ugg Boot stores which have lines to get in longer than the lone porta-potty at a Jethro Tull concert, and a boutique that sells clothing for yuppie purse rats that the nouveau rich of the upper east side call dogs. This is Bar 89.

The 89 comes from it's address on mercer street. My favorite thing about this place is the food. A wide variety of gourmet junk food, in particular the "china's little chicken" sandwich. You put broccoli and chicken together on a sandwich and I'm sold bubba, you better believe it. My least favorite thing about this bar is the fact that they have no beers on tap. Bottles only. I can drink a bottle of beer from a Korean market on the street pal, I don't want to pay three times that for some struggling foreign actor to pour it into a fucking glass.

So word to the wise, stick to the hard stuff, you're going to need it if you're going to convince that Jersey trash to go down on you in that three by three closet called a bathroom on the second floor. She'll need at least three or four mojitos (they make a good mojito) if you're going to make her believe that the see through glass door on the bathroom that u took her in to soil her innocence (lets face it, if she's from jersey, there is a 99% chance it's been soiled long before) will fog up within seconds of latching it shut.

You'll need at least six or seven southern peach teas (sweet teach, peach nectar and peach stoli) to convince yourself to fuck this trash bag without a rubber. 150 dollars plus tip later, you leave knowing that the magazine or blog you read that told you "if you really want to have sex in a bar bathroom, than bar 89 is your brand of whiskey" was dead on...

Mahalo

-RK

Davis - Weekend Wrap-up 2/10/08

We were finally able to get Joey's posts up, there are actually two other bloggers blogging, so you'll be reading a lot more content soon, but let's get back to what's important. Reviews and tiny stories.

Friday
My weekend started early (around 3:00 PM) during work, a co-worker and a former co-worker and I went to:

• El Cantinero
  86 University Pl, New York 10003
  Btwn 11th & 12th St
  Phone: 212-255-9378

For a just past noon pitcher of Strawberry Margaritas, we ended up having three pitchers and normally after three of anything they give the table a free round of shots.

Now hammered we get back to work around 4:00. I made it through the next two and a half hours red faced and all, with minimal damage. However, I was surprisingly sober after my usual concoction of two Coke's and a 2 liter bottle of Poland Spring.

So I secretly, because I didn't want my friends that live there to know, that and I'm notorious for hating this area of NYC, went off to Williamsburg. I also know my that most of my friends probably wouldn't be caught dead in this place, being as there are no dead hookers in the bathroom or saw dust on the floors.

Hotel Delmano (no website)

82 Berry St.,

Williamsburg; (718) 387-1945

Open nightly

I don't know where they get off charging $14 for a cocktail in Williamsburg, but hey, if that's what the fuckheads in Brooklyn want to pay, let's go... Get to the door, it's a bit early so we got in immediately. Reading some of the reviews, it's advised to show up with your entire party or you won't be seated until they're all there. It is a bar after all, that doesn't serve food, so it's important to know the number of people whom will be seating in your party.


This is not Manhattan, by any means, so I'm not going to be an asshole and tell you that their cocktails sucked, they didn't but I'm using Brooklyn standards. They're bringing a piece of Manhattan to Brooklyn, which is kind of what the hipsters did when they crossed the bridge and migrated to Williamsburg. Now look at all the bearded idiots you have running rampant, Middle America, please pick up the trend of comb overs and button ups that mimic what we wore to kindergarten classes, so the worst trend this side of the trucker hat can get the hell on with it.

Williamsburg, with the exception of Peter Lugars, belongs in a Tampa suburb as a colony of emo outcasts. Or maybe the bearded/comb over combo is a tip of your hat to the Hassidics you took over the area from.

Women, if you'd stop fucking these guys, we could put an end to UTI's all over the city. It worked in ancient Greece and ended the war between the Spartans and the Trojans. Anyway Hotel Delmano? Come early, come with your party, or you'll get turned away, they'll ask for your number and you'll get a call when there's room. Order the Pear Infused Cognac ($14), amazing interior decoration.

Saturday

Greatest lunch in the world, with the greatest girl in the world, at yet another speak easy esque place known as The Blind Pig

Blind Pig
233 E. 14th St.
(2nd & 3rd Aves.)
East Village
212.209.1573

All wood interiors, great staff, fun crowd, some of the best American food that New York has to offer. It's a sports bar technically, but that shouldn't turn any women away, they'll have fun.

Later it was off to the West Village meeting up with some friends at Employees Only.

See how it says Psychic in the window, cute right? Also, you may notice, the name on the awning is not Employees Only. How New York (cliché) is that!? So it's another speak easy:

Employees Only
510 Hudson St.
New York, NY 10014
Phone (212) 242-3021

It is cool that a fortune teller meets you at the entrance and from that point on, there's even more Disney world. The bartenders all sport mustached, all dressed in the same way you'd expect a chef to be dressed and they take their bar tending seriously. There's a working fire place which basically sealed the deal for me.

The Ginger Smash was so good that my dick got hard. Now while I'm writing this I was able to find out that it is a "a muddle of ginger root and cranberries, mixed with gin and apple liqueur." Who knew, I have a friend, frat boy to the core, but when you see him drink, he'll have one of those dinky little martini glasses in his hand. Not quite James Bond with his shaken not stirred, more like Tony Soprano in his bathrobe with a martini, but he makes no apologies for it. He's been my inspiration and since I have found no reason to apologize for drinking "chick drinks" and this is why I'm able to inform my not so humble public about drinks such as the Ginger Smash at Employees Only.

Sunday
Basically was spent hibernating on my couch, catching up with my DV-R. Squeezing my darling, capping the night off trying to watch the Grammy Awards but always finding something else better to watch. Drinking Blue Moon and watching her take the entire evening with one Mike's Crantini. God I love Sundays.

Joey-The BEST/WORST bars in the NY

The BEST/WORST bars in NY

The purpose of this blog is to provide a common place where all you New yorkers can share your knowledge of the City's best/worst bars. Don't forget to include the name and address along with short description of why you love or loathe the place.

I'll begin:

Verlaine
110 Rivington St.
New York, NY 10012

If you're down in the LES before 10pm, you can stop in this bar for happy hour seven days a week. I'm obsessed with their Asian infused cocktails (my favorite being the Lychee Martini). The decor is chic, artsy and classy, which is a nice break from the some of the dingy LES establishments. The only down side is that later in the evening it tends to get over crowded and noisy.

Joey - Edible Cocktails 2/8/08

Last weekend I finally made my way to Tailor, which I've been fiending to do for months. I actually used to live next door, when it was still an overpriced clothing store. But I left the neighborhood shortly before the grand opening and since then I haven't made it back.

When I read on Grub Street that they were serving edible cocktails, I practically ran there. Needless to say, if you're dieting I would highly recommend keeping your distance . These things are more tempting then a garbage bag of crack is to Pete Doherty. But looking back, I can honestly say it was well worth the extra calories.

My only complaint is that they currently only have three on the menu. If I could figure out how to make the White Russian Breakfast Cereal, I think I'd have to trade in my Special K for a bowl of that. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to coerce anyone into telling me how the treats are prepared but what I did find out is that it's made with Rice Krispy Treats soaked in Vodka, Kahlua, Half and Half and Sugar. The process however, remains somewhat of a mystery. The second cocktail on the menu is the Ramos Gin Fizz Marshmallow, and the other is called the Cuba Libre ,which is basically a jell-o shot made with rum and coke. Nonetheless, they were all really yummy and highly recommended.

I thought the place would be ideal for first date, with such a great cocktail menu.

Joey - Vodka and it's less publicized uses 2/8/08

So Reader's Digest and a few others, banded together to fill us in on how the rich people shit their money away, and seemingly, waste their precious Vodka. Aside from being mildly amused, I found the whole thing to be quite disturbing.

1. To clean the caulking around bathtubs and showers, fill a trigger-spray bottle with vodka, spray the caulking, let set five minutes and wash clean. The alcohol in the vodka kills mold and mildew.
(Well, I guess we now know what Brittany Spears uses to get her bathroom sparkley clean.)

2. Fill a sixteen-ounce trigger-spray bottle and spray bees or wasps to kill them.
(Or how about buying a 20oz can of raid for $2 which will probably last you a life time.)

3. Spray vodka on vomit stains, scrub with a brush, and then blot dry.
(Let's be realistic here, if either you or your friend couldn't make it to a toilet in time and barfed all over your shirt; wouldn't there already be Vodka in the vomit stains?)

4. To cure foot odor, wash your feet with vodka.
(I'm honestly not sure which one is better; having stinky feet, or smelling like you drank a bottle of Vodka for breakfast.)

5. And last, but certainly not least, for a quick and easy weed killer, mix 1 ounce (30 milliliters) vodka, a few drops liquid dish soap, and 2 cups water in a spray bottle. Spray it on the weed leaves until the mixture runs off. Apply it at midday on a sunny day to weeds growing in direct sunlight, because the alcohol breaks down the waxy cuticle covering on leaves, leaving them susceptible to dehydration in sunlight. It won't work in shade.

And the moral of this story is....
Why waste your money on expensive Alcohol, when you can be drinking Strychnine instead.:)

Happy drinking!

-Joey

Joey - Guitar Hero 2/9/08

Last night I went to a friends dinner party. After eating we decided to go to out drinking, but since it was still too early, we were left looking for a way to kill some time. Someone, suggested having a Guitar Hero tournament. Consequently, the winner would drink for free the entire evening. Although at the time, I was still a Guitar Hero virgin, I had little doubt in my musical capabilities. Well, little did I know, you could be Jimi Hendrix ,and still royally suck at this game. Apparently it has more to do with how much free time you spend in your skivvies playing video games, then having any bona-fide guitar skills. Needless to say, I wasn't drinking for free that night. The pathetic reality was, I couldn't even make It through a single song without getting booed off stage. But surprisingly, the fact I sucked didn't seem to matter.

The bottom line is this game is feverishly addictive, and if you don't have a couple hundred bucks to blow on an Xbox or Playstation, you're shit out of luck. Unless of course, you live in New York where you can actually find multiple bars fully equipped with the game. CBS coined the term “guitaroake” and it's popularity in the bar scene is exponentially growing. The good thing is that unlike Karaoke, if a performer sucks you're not forced to painfully sit through the entire song wishing you had an ice pick to jam through your eardrums(which of course ,would ultimately be more pleasant then listening to some jackass pretending to be on American Idol.) Cleverly, the bars capitalized on the games popularity and used it as a way to bring in people on slow nights. So now, not only can I satisfy my Guitar Hero fix, I can also get drunk in the process. Brilliant!

Once I heard that Pianos gave up their Tuesday night's to Guitar Hero, I had to go. I used to frequent the LES hotspot back when I was heavily into the music scene, but nowadays, I don't go too often. I will admit that having an audience of strangers is a little nerve wracking. Especially when some people who apparently have some sort of delusional disorder, seem to believe they're Slash up there playing a 8 oz. plastic guitar. However, once you get over any stage fright jitters, it's actually a lot of fun.

Here's a few other listing of bars in or around the city that have jumped on the band wagon:

Ochi's Lounge (no website, but)
Saturdays 10pm
353 W. 14^th st., New York, NY 10011

Pianos
Tuesdays 10pm
158 Ludlow St., New York, NY 10002

Bar 4 (no website, but)
Wednesday Nights
444 7^th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215

-Joey

Joey - Introduction

My name is Joey. I'm 25 years old and I live on east side of Manhattan. And like most of us New Yorkers, I'm struggling to survive in this exorbitant city. Every month I'm reminded of how comfortably I could be living elsewhere. But in spite of it all, I love life in the big city far to much to leave. So instead, I live paycheck to paycheck, without a penny saved, and too many pennies borrowed. Some people would say I live above my means, and they'd probably be right. Yet, nobody can seem to give me a compelling reason why I shouldn't. Why not take advantage of life while I'm still young? I see no sense in saving everything for when you're old and have nothing to spend it on.

Yes, I admit, it may be true that I am merely rationalizing my self-destructive behavior. But the fubared logic has worked for me so far, so until it no longer does, I'm sticking to it.

Davis - "Hangover?" 2/6/08

Really, I only know a few people who have seen the green fairy, those that have been able to partake all warned me. "I've had Absinthe, greatest thing on Earth, worst hangover, I've ever had..."

I don't get hangovers.

Last night I had three drinks all containing absinthe.

This morning I woke up 45 minutes late (for work, meaning my job starts at 9, I woke up at 9:45), if you've been paying attention. I have a bit of a commute (45 minutes, there's a theme developing here). My girlfriend had gone to class, attended class, come home from class, walked into the bedroom and basically screamed.

That's how I remember it anyway. This is where Men are made however, I thrive on this moment, the not sure where I am, what I'm doing, but fuck me if it's not going to get done. I grab my cell phone and immediately call work, I don't ask for my head boss, I ask for me vice head boss, I open my mouth (you should always say something before you do this, at least to clear your throat, unless you want to really sound sick, then ignore what I just said).

"Hi," this is when I cleared my throat. "Sorry, this is Davis, I'm going to be late today (no shit), I have a uhm [indecipherable] appointment. I'll be in like 11."

"Oh, wow, yeah... You sound terrible, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, going to the dentist..."

Not sure how this happened, because as far as I know, I woke up when my girlfriend left.

So I get to work (12:00) and a co-worker invites me to lunch, (beautiful idea, I should eat, I've had quite the morning) him and three other guys from work are going to O.T.B. (Old Town Bar), known as having one of the best burgers in the city, but in reality every time we eat their, I have the burger, I wouldn't let the O.T.B. burger shine my shoes.

I used to go here, because there's always a table and I would write at the tables, by myself, what a douche bag I must have looked like. It wasn't until recently (I never bothered to look around at all while I was inside) that it's known for his "Literary Tradition" Nick Hornby had his book release for About a Boy here. There's tons of history, check the link.

But Old Town Bar is great, for drinking, it's an old speak easy. It's been around since 1892 and has hidden compartments at their tables to store your drinks, when police would raid during prohibition, this was important. When you're drinking at lunch a block from where you work, this is also important.

I can't even remember what we had to drink, but it was a pitcher (or three), then it was off to work. For the day ahead of me.

After work it was Old Rabbit Club (no website, sorry)

124 Rabbit Club
124 Macdougal St., nr. W. 3rd St.; 212-254-0575
Another pseudo-speakeasy, 124 Rabbit Club lives off the well-trodden paths of the West Village NYU herd. Forty-plus Belgian, Czech, English, Irish, and German beers populate the menu; each comes in its own style of glass. The subterranean lair resembles the kind of catacombs where, one imagines, Trappist monks brew their divinely delicious beers. New York Magazine.

Down the stares I descended with my girlfriend, where I rang the buzzer (at the unmarked black door beneath the Ethiopian restaurant) and later secluded I was finally able to make up the morning to her with a nice couple of rounds (4, 4x$12=48, so close to my 45 motif that I had going) of "Ridgeway Santa's Butt". Not the type of place to have purple drinks... But I did tell you that I was built for this shit. Absinthe Hangover and all, I managed to walk in drunk to work four hours late (drunk, not from the night before, but from lunch), make it through the day and cap it at a wonderful spot no one knows about (until now).

Davis - 2/5/08

And we are off. Absinthe hit the shores of NY late 2007, after annoying the shit out of my regular liquor store owner for months.

I finally decided, that I should probably just do some research on my own, instead of my usual Wednesday 7:00 PM, "Is it here yet?" Met with the blank stare of a man in Queens who probably will never fit in. The owner of my local liquor store looks more like he belongs in a museum. Actually, he looks exactly like the guy you would trust to give a perfect wine suggestion, just not in Queens.

He belongs in Connecticut or the East Hamptons or with the new money on the Upper Eastside. So around 7:00 PM, after about 15 minutes with the local WNBC, I decided, if Obama's not going to get the nomination, then I better get some Absinthe...

Here's the New York Magazine Article I found I took this article as my helpful suggestion. It listed several Bars that are currently serving Absinthe:

• The Waverly Inn: Absinthe-Minded Martini, Waverly Sazerac
  16 Bank St., at Waverly Pl.; no (useful) phone
• STK: Absinthe Drip
  26 Little W. 12th St., nr. Ninth Ave.; 646-624-2444
• The Dove Parlor: The Green Fairy
  228 Thompson St., nr. W. 3rd St.; 212-254-1435
• Suba: Absinte Mojito
  109 Ludlow St., nr. Delancey St.; 212-982-5714
• PDT: Corpse Reviver No. 2
  113 St. Marks Pl., nr. First Ave.; 212-614-0386
• Death & Co.: Morning-After Fizz, Joy Division
  433 E. 6th St., nr. Ave. A; 212-388-0882
• Employees Only: Martinez, Billionaire Cocktail
  510 Hudson St., nr. Christopher St.; 212-242-3021

So, as a fan of "Dove's," as my friend Neil would call it, I set off for my adventure to NoHo, for The Green Fairy, had I been entertaining a woman, it most likely would have been Suba (due to the lack of Subway access and the lack of a woman), since I'm not, I headed to the only wine bar a man should be (without a woman).

3 Green Fairy's in, I'm waiting for tinker belle, I told her I was coming. Suddenly, I'm not convinced... It's possible that Obama could actually be winning this thing. I need to hope my ass back on the F train and get back to Queens.

Davis - 2/4/08

Let me begin my very first blog entry by getting a couple of things out of the way.

First of all, I'm nearly 25, I'd like to say attractive, I let my facial hair grow until I get way too much attention from black women on the train and then I shave. When I shave I attract the high school girls, after about three days, I start to attract the good looking women.

I love Gossip Girl, if it's not the best show on television, it's def top 5. If you're disagreeing, then you haven't seen it.

I seriously do my best to avoid going out or any type of obligation what-so-ever, for my evening. I work a ridiculously excruciating job, where I'm constantly sexually harassed by my boss and gay co-workers. On top of having to deal with people who may or may not be legally retarded on a moment by moment basis. My nights should, can and will remain as organic as possible.

That being said, I drink, a bad night I have 6-8 drinks, a good night I have 11-13. I hardly ever have a hang-over and haven't been sick since I've been of legal drinking age. Some call this a problem, some call it a gift.

Who are you to judge me?

I've never done drugs, outside of a couple in High School, but I never had a "problem".

Two co-workers and I went at least four months straight getting waisted during lunch, this is not something I'm proud of, nor do I feel ashamed. These are just the facts.

I miss those four months, but due to those four months, I've gained an executive position at my company. A place where I no longer feel comfortable continuing the trend, for fear that I may be found out.

Today I took lunch for an hour and a half.

Those around me get annoyed that I often pick places that they feel they would need to "dress up" to be at.

I judge, I've been a New Yorker for a record 8 years. I'm from the smallest state in the Union and in those 8 years, I've seen a lot of things. In the words of the immortal Biggie Smalls, "I've done shot at the best of them, hung with the rest of them..."

I've seen the most annoying part (pretentiousness wise) of New York go from the East Village to Williamsburg. You want to live in Williamsburg? Good, punch yourself in the nuts.

The "Socialites" of New York, as far as I've seen they're decent people, the dickheads, they're all from Wall Street or they're Lawyers. If you want a real woman, date a trader or a lawyer, they put up with so much bullshit just dealing with their male counterparts, you'll never have to worry. Wall Street guys and Lawyers are about as close to Los Angeles as New York gets.

*The above sentence was typed with every bit of laced venom that you may or may not have read it as.

Watching the New York Giants beat the New England Patriots was probably in the top 10 greatest moments of my life.

- Davis

PS- I love you.

So this is Barfly New York...

This story begins like the Charles Dickens novel, David Copperfield, "I am born," and though we may not all get along we will go along. In our adventures through the bars of New York City, we will storm or whimper. Leaving only our written word in the wake.

We four bloggers have ban together as a result of an absence, where there really was no reason to be. Why shouldn't we all be able to migrate to the same bar? Why can't there be an agreement, this place has the best women, this place has the best men, this place has the best martini, this place has the best chance to get laid?

However I put, this is how I put it and let me be the man who ventures face first deep into that field, with that flag, hoping to not be shot, but when I finally am, let me scrap my way, those last few yards as the dirt under my nails increases and the flag in my hand deepens into the soul...

I am Barfly and we are New York.