Margaritas for $4 and 20-cent tacos? Like most New Yorkers, when I hear this kind of too-good-to-be-true deal, I’m immediately skeptical. But let me assure you, I have been to the urban dining mirage. It’s name is San Loco, the patron saint of crazy delicious.

I recently dropped by San Loco’s Williamsburg location to play a game of pool, sip on a couple margaritas and see what 20 cents gets you these days in tacos. I was sure that those 20-cent tacos would be bite size. Nope. They’re big enough that I’ll personally give anyone who can finish three of them a pat on the back.
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How could I be in the middle of Times Square yet feel like I’m prepping for a trip to South America? I sauntered into Hotel QT around 9:30 p.m. and was greeted with a caipirinha. With a nod to the bartender, I made my way to the pool. Brazilian beats hummed inside the pool area, but I wanted to contain my movements until I could flow like the water below. On the last Thursday of every month, when DJ Miller Cruz spins Música Popular Brasileira, including samba, samba rock, forró and more, it’s like a minivacation for mind, body and groove.

“You have to pace yourself,” Gen Art Founder Ian Gerard says to the audience before the film opening of the festival. This is the 12th Annual Gen Art Film Festival and he’s speaking of the 7 films and 7 after parties to come in this one week stretch of films. As I look around at the audience, I know that some festival-goers will heed his advice, while others pretend not to hear and foolishly ignore sleep. 7 films and 7 parties??? - a wet dream for the hip, in-the-know crowds who support this organization for emerging arts and entertainment figures.
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What do beautiful German men, fireworks, the best looking Polaroids you’ve ever seen, an open bar and three bathrooms all have in common? I gazed on them all at the stroke of midnight marking the first day of 2007. Did I mention I was on a boat?

For the past two years a couple of my friends have been adamant about spending the night of New Year’s Eve on the freezing cold water around Manhattan…and every year I outsmart them and rally everyone to seek warmer, less windy climates. I’m very clever. This year, however, with the whole global warming phenomenon, I realized that now is as good a time as any, and I threw on my new black dress, black heels and pearls for this late-December cruise.

The holiday season has begun for me, and I know exactly what I want…not that that should be any surprise. I want a nutcracker—but not just any nutcracker. A well-hung, jaw-chiseled, tall nutcracker. My nutcracker needs to dance, have nice posture and speak only when spoken to—except to shush me when I’ve been naughty! He’s out there, and though you may not touch him, you can watch him. He resides at 55 E. 59th St., in the New York Theater Ballet production of The Nutcracker. This isn’t the New York City Ballet and it isn’t at Lincoln Center…but neither is he.

New York is a place with so much going on and so many choices that sometimes it’s easy to feel like you don’t quite know where you belong. Yet people still find themselves trying to fit their life into a cookie-cutter lifestyle, never to venture out of it.

How fucking boring.

Sure, it’s easier to stay in my comfort zone, especially if, like me, you feel great in your own skin and know what you like. But sometimes everyone needs a little touch of color in their lives… I just happened to get mine with a sassy pair of sneakers on the side.
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