Now you too can smell like Enrique Iglesias, though the latin crooner has an even better way to get laid. From Daily News gossip we love this word maven Ben Widdicombe [Second item down]
After going on a bender where two hours of your life is lost, and realizing it must have included somewhere called Rawhide because the name is stamped on your hand, its easy to think one is heading to crazytown on an express bus. But then you run into a blog written by a dog. We think "Mommy" needs to stop selling her paxil for food money.
At 915 feet, the Citigroup Center in midtown Manhattan is one of gotham's tallest buildings You can recognize it from the triangular roof top, the 114-feet tall columns in which the building seems to float, and the bankers hurling their bodies out of the windows toward unsuspecting tourists below.
Remember when your father would invite a bunch of the guys over to watch Tyson fight? Remember thinking that $300 to see a 30 second fight was ridiculous. Well, never a fan of fighting, we'd be willing to spend twice that amount to watch the new Mike Tyson in the ring. Not as messy as biting off an ear, but...
Tyson was clearly exhausted and opened the round by throwing wild shots. He then appeared to try and break McBride's arm, drawing a protest from the Irish fighter. Tyson wasn't through. He banged his bald head against McBride, causing a gash above his opponents right eye. --The Associated Press via My Way
We'll miss you, Mike. Your tattoos, your prison sentences, your come backs, and your sportsmanship. Yes, we'll miss it all.
Ahh, the sweet sounds and smells of summer in Manhattan. The month of June is so far starting out to be one of the hottest on record, that time of year when "do you have central air conditioning" becomes a come-on line. In one posting on the Best of Craigslist, one straphanger explains that "90 degrees is the temperature at which the F train melts." Here's one of the poster's musings on commuting through NYC in summer:
5. If you're a hassidic Jew and you are making out with a black tranny hooker -- I say mozeltov, motherfucker...mozeltov Read the others.
You want just one more. But, you can't. You're cut off. Isolated. Banned. The bartender has just screamed "Last Call" into your ear. You stagger home through Manhattan's streets with a thirst that would make Nicholas Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas" look like a lightweight. We're here to quench your thirst for pop culture, arts, entertainment, news and absurdity until the clock says its okay to open up that bottle of bottom-shelf vodka in a socially acceptable manner.