"Earlier tonight, at about a quarter till eleven to be precise, I headed over to Shake Shack in Madison Square Park for a burger (little tip...if you ever want a SS burger and wish to avoid standing in line for an hour, walk up a few minutes before closing time...I usually get my food in under 10 minutes.) I entered the park on the east side at 24th street and was walking down through the park to get my food when I suddenly heard the voice of a man sitting on one of the benches along the walkway. He spoke very loudly, almost as if he were intentionally projecting in the hope that everyone in the park and its vicinity would hear his words...

"Whenever I'm at home and I have a girl in my bed..."

My immediate reaction, before even glancing over in his direction to get a look at him, was that this guy, whoever he was, was the Babe Ruth of cheesedicks. You know how you can come in contact with someone, even from afar, and you just know all there is to know about them immediately, like within a matter of seconds? Well that's what happened here, all within the span of a few walking steps. I made a snap judgment on this guy, someone who obviously wanted everyone to know that he has sex WITH GIRLS, and he screamed one thing...

Cheesedick.

And then I actually looked over in his direction as I passed him and had my snap judgment confirmed. Who should be sitting on a bench in Madison Square Park on this fine Monday night bloviating about his sexual relations? Well it was none other than your boy, Paul Fucking Janka!!!

Janka was with another guy, presumably his wing, and two youngish looking girls, one white and one black. After I placed my order, I drifted back into the area of Janka and his crew to eavesdrop. I got the impression that Janka and his buddy had just met the two girls. It also seemed to me that the girls were either visiting NYC or had recently moved here. One of them even had her suitcase with her in the park. I couldn't help but feel sorry that they'd been cornered by this cartoonish twat. What a great first impression of New York men! And does he ever talk about anything other than sex?

So then my little buzzer thingie went off signifying that my order was ready. After I picked it up, I headed out of the park taking the same route in which I entered. As I passed Janka and his crew, the girls appeared to be saying their goodbyes. The last thing I heard was a male voice asking for a phone number, followed by this question...

"We're all still friends here, right?"

In that moment I wondered just how many Paul Janka goodbyes had previously ended with the same question."

Thanks, Cajun! Everyone else—be sure to send in your sightings, if you are unfortunate enough to have them.

I've always said, the same rules applies to penises and vampires: once you invite them in, they're always allowed to return. Also, garlic burns them.

According to buddytv.com, Andre's not unfamiliar with the business end of a gavel.

This is far from the America's Most Smartest Model contestant's first run-in with the law. The Post also reports that law enforcement sources have said that he “has served a half-dozen prison stints since 2000 on charges including assault, harassment, criminal contempt, criminal mischief and trespassing.”

One recent incident included an accusation of harassment and stalking. In this case, the accuser claimed that he left her “menacing messages,” grabbing her hair and threatening to break her legs.

And in 2003, he served 6-months in jail for harassment, contempt and assault.

Thank God the DA's office has decided to let Mr. Birleanu alone. Isn't the real crime here the idea that a man with really low body fat and extremely symmetrical features would have to ask a woman before touching her pudding pie?

[Post]

"One of Jeremy's first stunts in May 2006 was to gather 100 women he'd met on J-Date, a Jewish dating website, at the Lower East Side bar Fat Baby. When the women showed—holding white roses to identify them to their potential date—they were instead met by the sinking realization that they had been stood up, and that they were all there for the same (nonexistent) guy. "We had a ton of fun with it," Jeremy claims. As for the girls themselves, he maintains they thought it was hilarious, and adds "they got a free glass of champagne."

Jeremy needed a spolesman for the site, and he found one in Richard Nouveau. For many of pocketchangenyc.com's readers, Richard is a relatable type: handsome, white affluent, crass. He studied at Princeeon and wears apurple pinstripe suit and a pink-and-white checked shirt. He looks like a young Jay McInerney. He says offensvie things on the Web site, like, "I lifted my dating embargo on Orientals (I've devied to overlook the constant squinting)." Richard is also completely ficticious. He's the brainchild of Jeremy, who even plays him at appearances. "Smart people understand it's a mockery," Jeremy explains. "Richard's a moron. [The site is] a mockery of the white upper class ignorance. "

The Man Who Sells Sex and Wealth [Page Six magazine]

McCotter posted the video to YouTube, then blogged it on the Republican Policy Committee's web site. One of the representative YouTube comments goes like so:

Why can't the sheeple LIBTARDS understand this!?! Is the education in the U.S. of A. so left centered now that they can't see something tossed in front of them? Wake up koolaid drinkers of America... The leftwing conspiracy is trying to take your rights!!!

I wish more speakers of the house were like this... this guy has ball the size of Mars :D

One Philip Hahn registered for the event. When we emailed, he replied: "Although I was invited to the event, I couldn't go – I'm spending June on my family's ranch in Kenya. Also while the party's idea might be a good one, I've no interest in getting married off to a fashionista so soon….! I haven't a clue who Prescott Hahn is either, no relation."
Funny that, because calls to the numbers on Prescott Hahn's card went through to one Philip Hahn's voicemail. And Philip Hahn confirmed by he was indeed the man behind Kensington Square Capital, the same company which Prescott Hahn's card showed he represented. Liar!
"Yes I run a hedge fund, regrettably a small one but a very young one," said Philip Hahn. "Started it when I was 26, am now 27." It must be very small indeed. We can find no record of its existence beyond a rudimentary one-page website. It appears to be hosted at a sketchy investment management firm called W.D. Witter. When we called, a nervous British man put us through to Hahn; and then changed the story to say he was in a meeting. (Incidentally, an "analyst" claiming to work for Kensington Square Capital also registered for the Fashion Meets Finance mixer, as did someone working for W.D. Witter. Good scam, guys.)
Let's examine the card itself. It describes Hahn as a "Hedge Fund Manager." How absurd. Real hedge fund managers don't put "hedge fund manager" on their card, just as investment bankers don't put "investment banker." They put something like "Vice President" or "Managing Director." One's name should be in capital letters, as American Psycho makes clear, and certainly not in dated italics, which work only if you're working for an old-school English private bank.
The only element of the business card that's appropriate is Pegasus, the winged horse, a creature as mythological as Prescott Hahn, the hedge fund manager.
There is no listing of Kensington Square Capital in Morningstar's hedge-fund database.

Like the economy, the "hedge-fund guy" scam to attract women and impress people is getting weaker—especially since the credit crunch. The ladies need a man with an income that's more than just fancy gambling!

Just think! In ten years, these people will be putting just as much energy into denying you health insurance or causing the next subprime crisis or whatever.

BW Business Schools

“See her?” Mr. Young asked as he pointed to a tall, narrow-framed girl with slightly protruding hips. “She’s too big."

“That one, over there by the hot-dog stand, is cute,” he continued, “but she’s too short and, eh, bad skin.”

At 5 feet 7 inches, Mr. Young barely grazes the chins of some of the models he scouts. But he claims that his height, combined with the fact that he is gay, gives him an advantage. “The physicality of a scout counts for a lot,” he said. “You don’t want to be a perceived threat to their safety.”

Although the best hunting grounds are teenage gathering spots like schools and clubs, the next Gisele Bündchen can be found anywhere. Near Union Square, for example, Mr. Young pointed to a statuesque couple cuddling in front of a Duane Reade. “Hey, look right there,” he said. “I’m almost positive he’s a model, but I’m not sure about her.”

He followed the couple into the drugstore to check them out.

“Hi, excuse me, are you guys models?” he asked when an opportune moment presented itself.

The pair looked down at him from their towering, modelesque heights.

“Um, yeah,” the man replied.

“Oh, I’m just wondering because I’m a scout with Elite Models. What agencies are you with?”

They answered his question, but backed up warily as they did so. All model scouts encounter such skittishness, but the scouts themselves operate in very different ways. Some, like Mr. Young, are full-time agency employees — the New York Yellow Pages lists 130 agencies in Manhattan — but others are freelancers working on commission, or scam-minded photographers with a convincing business card and a knack for gaining the confidence of aspiring models. [NYT]

Morty: I remember that you loved Sex and the City.
Janet: Oh my god, my life is SO Sex and the City!
Morty: Every girl in New York says that.
Janet: I know. But with me it's really true.
Morty: Every girl in New York says that.
Janet: What do you know? You hated that show.
Morty: Yeah. I think that Sex and the City is a modern, less realistic rip-off of "Laverne and Shirley," but without the monogrammed sweater.
Janet: That doesn't even make sense.
Morty: Of course it does: Two best friends become four. Lenny and Squiggy are now two gay guys. Bowling alleys and pizza parlors are replaced with Pastis and Soho House.
Janet: That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of.
Morty: Come on, you know that if they had cable back then, there definitely would have been an episode where Carmine Ragusa's penis was so big, Shirley could barely put on her pants the next day.
Janet: Goodbye, Morty.

"Allison made it past the first date because I needed a hot companion for my company Christmas party. She was fun and sweet enough, but couldn't spell 'Louis Vuitton' if it wasn't written all over her handbag. And wallet. And shoes. Before I could even ask her about Sex and the City, Allison mentioned the words 'husband', 'pregnant', and 'why the hell are you calling me.':"

Morty: I don't know why you are so hostile to your ex that you haven't spoken to in seven years. Especially since it seems like you've done such a good job rebounding from our relationship.
Allison: I don't consider you my "ex," I consider you my "Y." As in "WHY did I ever go out with you?"
Morty: Funny.... Who said that, Carrie or Samantha?
Allison: Goodbye, Morty.
[HuffPo]

"here is the thing. just like myspace, bkkb allows people to reinvent themselves... [Commisioner] Kevin Dailey is now the coolest guy on earth every sunday night to 32 teams with 10 or more people on it. and every person on every team is the coolest person who ever moved to brooklyn. they all drink and get drunk and have a blast and compare how drunk and how much fun they are having.

well i am straight edge. and as soon as everyone found out, i was labeled an asshole. i never cared about who did what or why. i just choose not to do drugs. i work out alot and have a typical "jock" build. so everyone skinny hipster is afraid of me. i have a quick wit and if a drunk idiot is trying to heckle me im going to tell them to shut up. so add all that up for 3 seasons of prison being the best team who doesnt want to hangout and get fall down drunk (which half of prison does on friday nights) and you have 120 pound boys who look like girls being scared and complaining about our team. i dont think they will let me back in the park on sunday nights let alone next year!! haha kevin daily hates me and my whole team!"

"Despite all the bullshit swarming around me for the last couple of years, I'm still here. Not anonymous calls to the Parks Department, selective cutting and pasting, or Gawker.com will keep me away. Still standing. I have no reason to go. I've done a fucking excellent job, and presided over continuous annual growth... I have been behind every last good decision towards making the league better and bigger. If I were a CEO, my only flaw would be not raising prices, as supply and demand dictates."

"The classy text messager in the column in Matthew Caws from Nada Surf and he's still with the girl he broke up with the first for." HEY OH! You'll remember Nada Surf for their 1996 joke hit about high school, "Popular." (The album totes didn't sell and Nada Surf was dropped from their label; they went indie and made more records. Amazingly, they're still a band.)

Excerpts of dating classiness from the man whose hit song included the lyrics, "Don't put off breaking up when you know you want to... prolonging the situation only makes it worse":

A CUTE guy from a rock band sent me an e-mail message out of the blue. We had a friend in common, and he saw me sing "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses one night in Brooklyn, at karaoke.

He continued, in all lowercase, to introduce himself. I scrolled over his rambling exposition, waiting for the payoff. Was he going to ask me out? He didn't. "i'm at home absolutely spazzing out because we're leaving in a few days to make a record and i have to/really should finish a long list of songs. so, waving hello and/or re-hello! all the bestest."

My enthusiasm waned. A hot guy in an indie band waved me hello and/or re-hello mid-spazz-out?

He took me for a walk around his neighborhood. I'm always suspicious when a guy takes his date on a walk, because it reeks of poverty and an inability to plan. It seemed as if he was taking me on a stroll of his estate, and from the way people on the street greeted him with questions about his tour and album, it was as if he was the king of his neighborhood.

[Photo: Michael Schmelling for NY Mag]

Q: What about the homeless guy who can’t get hired for the $5/hour minimum wage job, but would be qualified for a $3 an hour job?

A: He will have no job, because no $3 jobs exist. He will dig through trash cans for empty bottles and pizza crusts.

Q: But that’s not fair. It is my belief that no one should have to dig through trash cans.

A: Then why do you advocate laws that make digging through trash cans inevitable? Why do you eliminate the role of the least skilled people in the economy? Why do you insist that the ladder have no bottom rung?

Q: Nobody’s talking about ladders. I’m talking about the basic human right of a well-paying job.

A: What about the right to earn a living that, while meager, is better than no living at all?

Q: Easy for you to say! You’ve made plenty of money — you’re just trying to squeeze every last penny out of the underpriviledged!

A: I’ve made plenty of money because I’m good at evaluating complex systems and understanding how they could be made more efficient. There is an inefficiency here that hurts everyone. It bothers me because it could so easily be reversed, because it causes so much misery, and because it makes the economy worse off for me! But nobody wants to learn basic economics, so they go on repeating the same reality-denying mistakes that have been made, putting forth an agenda that cannot work but sure does sound nice [...]

Q: Do you think the girls who attack you on their tumblrs have crushes on you?

A: No comment, you’re adding an unnecessary distraction to this post.

Q: Ok, one more question, what’s your take on this debacle?

A: GOOD NIGHT.
[JakobLodwick.com]

And what does slimy puking Francis—who might be a rapist and is repped by incompetent flack Ronn [sic] Torossian—think of his illiterate venture? "Girls Gone Wild has worked its way into our vocabulary and the brand has become not just a form of entertainment, but a sought after lifestyle," he babbles. "The magazine represents an exciting expansion of the brand as well as a chance to bring the fun of Girls Gone Wild to a wider public through newsstand sales and subscriptions."

First of all—thanks for the visual! American Apparel has admitted it "suffers a number of 'material weaknesses.'"

Apparently that includes a whole bunch of boring capital-related things that you don't care about, but then Dov livens things up by calling his CFO a "loser":

"In an interview March 20, Mr. Charney said his current chief financial officer, Ken Cieply, "has no credibility" in the retail apparel industry and is a "complete loser." Mr. Cieply says: "The only thing I can say is I'm surprised ... There are times when Dov is frustrated." In a followup telephone interview, Mr. Charney Friday called his own words "juvenile."

Mr. Charney stages provocative photo shoots in the basement of his Los Angeles mansion — a hilltop perch filled with stacks of his vintage porn magazines. On a recent evening [at his Los Angeles mansion], a young female employee served Mr. Charney tomatoes over rice while another, dressed in underwear and a T-shirt, was quizzed by her boss on competing brands.

[Photos: by Bryan Derballa via Brooklyn Kickball]

About that margarita machine: it's ten bucks for a huge Styrofoam cup of it! We love the Turkey's Nest. What other place has old men, hipsters, and Hasidic Jews watching sports?

If you can't stomach reading through the whole letter, we understand and offer highlights of the demands:

1) A four-year cash bonus
2) Keys to the bar
3) "I'm tired of bullshit from those aforementioned employees. Let them know I am one of them."
4) A laminated drink card granting free drinks, forevermore, for him and his "lady of the evening." Hey!
5) The Turkey's Nest should pay for all kickball-related expenses: "the permits, the equipment, the balls, everything." And a shed: "I'm tired of the softball leagues stealing my shit."
6) Finally, a weekly wage.

[Photo: Rachelleb.com]

• Actor/NRA man Charlton Heston's hands grew cold, dead.
• We had a thoughful discussion about Battlestar Galactica's season premiere.
• A Princeton kid discovered drugs on campus!
• Unfunny comedian Dane Cook got even more unfunnier.
• Former Gawker chief Choire Sicha actually got Elizabeth Berkley to say something funny. But the LA Times cut it.
• Oil-heir-loser-with-no-reason-to-live Brandon Davis casually flung the N-word at a man and then cowered.

Who is more detestable? Dane Cook or Full House asshole Dave Coulier?

Sure, Dane's got that perma-shadow face on a monster head atop a Tinker-toy Abercrombie & Fitch body, fear-of-women material, and an audience full of frantically masturbating jocks in search of their next roofie rape—who he performs to in the round. But Coulier does Popeye without irony and used black magic to nail a young and apparently totally vulnerable Alanis Morrisette. Discuss.

Radar has hired Spencer Pratt, the blond, cherubic Hills star with a heart of darkness, as their new advice columnist. "Yo Spencer!," which will tackle "problems from hot girls to family affairs," will debut in the next issue. (A sneak preview of the first column, which answers questions about smelly co-workers, girls who like threesomes, and whether one should discourage one's brother from enlisting in the army, is after the jump.) "Spencer is never afraid to speak his mind," Radar editor-in-chief Maer Roshan says in the press release. "When asking for advice, it's good to have someone who will be brutally honest with you, and tell it like it is." Sure, because that worked out really well for Heidi. You can e-mail Spencer, or whoever's writing his column, about your problems at spencer@radaronline.com, though it might take him a while to get back to you, since we predict that mailbox will be full of "You're a douche bag" messages in, oh, ten to twenty minutes.

[nymag.com]

Due to her arbitrarily decided dominant position, Mary feels she is in the position to hand out advice, mistakenly imagining herself as some sort of role model:

HEALTH AND FITNESS ARE IMPORTANT ELEMENTS NOT ONLY TO STYLE BUT ALSO TO YOU WELL-BEING. Try pushing yourself a little today (whatever that means for you) and see if you feel a difference afterwards. Betcha you're smiling :)

Heft just got home and I asked her how dinner with David was last night at Bouley, one of NYC's most respected restaurants. Before I could finish my question, her voice raised 20 decibels as she proclaimed "AWFUL MARY JUST AWFUL"

The highlights of her rant:

* "the atmosphere was like a funeral home"
* "my appetizer tasted like cat food....I thought it would be beautiful, melt on my tongue slices of veal!"
* "the amuse bouche was like drinking ocean water it was so salty"
* "the $200 bottle of wine tasted like cough syrup"
* "his app was two pieces of lettuce and some nasty green ball"
* "my meat looked like a dead animal"

I am sensitive!

I have been very shaken up this week. It started when I reported on how I was feeling overly courageous and went on too many outrageous dates. It continued when one of my "extreme" dates decided to give too many details about our wild weekend on the comment board. I have been seeing a new girl almost every night of the week and have never felt so alone. It sucks. Then, to top it all off, my mother called me to check in on her "edgy blogger."

Fast-forward to last night. Miss Smarty Shoes and I were at a really cool concert. The most amazing woman (who was there with her date) was standing next to MSS and ogling me during the entire show. I know that having not shared a single word that what we had was purely physical. Who hasn't felt lust at first sight? So, by the end of the concert I was standing next to MSS and yet I was holding hands with some other dude's date. File this one under missed connections because neither of us exchanged numbers...if you know a woman that was at the Foo Fighters show in LA last night, holding hands with some guy she didn't know, would you please have her get in touch with me?

Whoops! But we guess this is web democracy (or mob rule?) in action. In one of his very first posts, Mike wrote, "You know how they say you live and learn? Well, the same be could be said about loving—you love and you learn." We're sure that's what he's doing in the wake of his firing... from a Glamour blog. LOL.

[Glamour]

Apparently you can only have pups off the leash after 9PM! My question is where should I start getting signatures and to whom should I submit it. Any other advice is greatly appreciated... I used to live in Portland and no parks had these type of restrictions. In my opinion, if people can be running around freely, my pets should be able to as well... I don't want to sound insensitive, but usually the only people who are annoyed and angried by my pups off the leash are Mexicans and black people."

For the uninitiated, 'dwarf-tossing' became popular in the 1980s, and involves throwing a dwarf dressed in a Velcro suit, usually at a Velcro-covered wall. The dwarf would normally be wearing a crash helmet and have handles on the back of his (or her) padded clothing. For those interested, dwarfs may be rented for parties and promotional events via the popular website www.shortdwarf.com (where size really matters)... a dwarf is generally defined as an individual who is 4' 10'' tall or shorter.

I learned the hard way that City life ain't for the faint of heart. I've lived in five apartments, had eleven roommates and four jobs. I am just now (after three years) settled into an apartment, a job and a life I love in New York City. I have the most charming apartment in SOHO and a wonderful job at an Investment Bank... a completely different life from where I started...at a scandalous hedge fund while living in Elderly-ville...Don't make the same mistakes I made... Be smart and start with the network I've built over the past three years.

Mostly dimwitted dot-coms, often charity-related. OldCampus is one, a "a site focused on compiling the latest political information and adding discussion forums around it—like an interactive political campus." Artlog is a social-networking site for art fans and artists. Change.org matches up nonprofits with potential donors, yay! GiveWell.net "analyzes charities' financials with an eye toward determining how effective and impactful they are."

OldCampus.com's Vora and Muhl are optimistic their endeavor will take off and one day make them money, but on the chance it doesn't, they still view it as a better investment than doing something like going to business school.

The friends... see Apple founder Steve Jobs as an inspiration. After Jobs dropped out of college, he took calligraphy courses, which helped him design the typefaces and fonts for the first Macintosh computer 10 years later.

DAY SIX 1 p.m.: Talk to Jen online, and she tells me she ordered a cock ring online. Never used one before, but I'm game. Is this a kinky way of her proposing to me, by putting a ring on my penis? 9:40 p.m.: Perform a set at a comedy club. Seven minutes of pure joy. 11 pm.: I talk to Jen online. It comes up that she loves submitting to me, but the idea of using a ball gag freaks her out.

Sex Diaries [New York mag]

From his Esquire ad:

From his homepage (warning: awesome music):

I'm kinda shitting myself about travelling. Well not so much the travelling part. It's India that scares me. The heat, the roads, the snakes, Australian travellers. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited. But shitting myself. And I just know that when I step off that plane and into the maelstrom of Mumbai - well, actually, I don't know how I'll react.

Practically all of my friends are dotted around the globe scouring every nook and cranny for a bit of culture and enlightenment (but secretly hoping to run into as many full-moon parties as possible). But it seems all gappers I know - wherever they are - will be going to Thailand in March or April, and every one I've spoken to is making no secret of the fact that Thailand should be pretty damn decadent. [Guardian Travelog]

Oh, how the Guardian's commenters responded! The best of which are collected here, and the most understated of which said, "how marvellous i think im going to barf with excitement."