Et Tu, Mister Softee?

I know that Spring is officially here because the much hated/loved Mister Softee truck has started staking out the corner of 5th street and 7th ave.

It's hard enough to suppress the urge to drink myself stupid or spend $30 on expensive take out after a hard day of work, let alone force myself to go to the gym...but add a strategically placed Mister Softee truck in the mix and it is fucking doomsville for me.

I had my first cone (chocolate with rainbow sprinkles) yesterday. It was $2.25 and I had $2.20 in my pocket. I was about to dig for the nickel in my bag, but Mister Softee told me not to worry about it.

It's a fucking recession and business is so good for Mister Softee that he can arbitrarily refuse nickels.

You rat bastard.

See you all there tomorrow after work.

Buffalo Soldier: Wing Off #1

Your very own Buffalo Soldier is a product of Buffalo, New York, the home of abandoned factories, national sports teams who seem to have a stranglehold on the “runner up” category, and perhaps most notably, the very place where Buffalo wings were invented at the fabulously divey Anchor Bar.

My quest for a little slice of home in Park Slope is something I don’t take lightly, so I’ll be presenting you with a series of wing offs as I eat my way through the Slope looking for the best of Buffalo.

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Obnoxious Asshole Needs A Roommate

Oh fuck, everyone, I need a roommate starting May 1.

When considering potential roommates, here are my options:

A.) Men—No, too messy.
B.) Gay Men—No, too dramatic.
C.) Women—Yes, but probably crazy.
D.) Gay Women—Maybe, but definitely crazy.
E.) Someone I know—Preferred.

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When's Lunch??

Yes, even your lunch has a website now.

Scanwiches.com smacks their sandwiches down on a scanner before devouring them, and damn do they look good.

You know what? Fuck that Lean Cuisine I have in my purse. I'm ordering in.

Where's your favorite place to get a killer sandwich in Park Slope?

An Open Letter to Pole-Leaning Douchebags On The Subway

(via Flatbush Vegan)

Dear asshole fuck on the subway,

I know that you think that because you're wearing a Brooks Brothers suit (ed note: we couldn't find a Brooks Brothers suit wearing ahole...sorry. This Asian one will have to do) with gold cuff links, douchey horn-rimmed glasses, Gucci loafers, and a watch that costs more than my parents' house that you own the place, but look around.

You are on the A train my friend–where all men are created equal.

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