New York City was covered in august sweat, drunk and stinky from the summer heat. The subway rats could barely move, unimpressed with gluten-free organic pizza crusts from Whole Foods. The rats reluctantly relocated their sly long tales from heated tracks into conditioned subway cars, leaving their cool tales hanging next to smelly feet of … More A Trip to the Hamptons. Real n’ Weird
I thought that an oxymoron frenemy was fiction until I met Nikki at Penthouse. She was one of the few real natural blonds, a vanilla leaf in bitches brew of hot Puerto Ricans, Brazilians and other exotic blends. Nikki and I had things in common — a law degree, past experience of corporate jobs and … More Nuclear Frenemy
Days went by, time flew, I kept descending, descending deeper down the adventure hole, entangling myself in an intricate seaweed of NYC life. Descending, free falling. When a scuba diver descends, he enters a peace land, mute kingdom of meditative tranquility. Peace forces its way upon thee in the land of sea. Everything becomes tranquil … More Deeper Down the Adventure Hole
I had a few year tradition of celebrating the Independence Day with a twist. It would start as the traditional celebration, watering hot dogs, BBQ meat skewers and corn with cheap lager and wine at a friend’s backyard or rooftop, discussing how many Netflix shows I’d watched, reflecting on how Americanized I was becoming. Then … More Fourth of July in Gotham City
Dimmed lights. Fancy dinnerware, large dinner plates with a printed logo of Robert’s Steakhouse. I sit on the second floor of Robert’s Steakhouse at Penthouse, dressed in a long shiny blue gown, working on a huge portion of medium-rare steak, slowly chewing small juicy meat bites, sipping a glass of fine red. It’s only eight … More Hope of Deliverance
My heart is pounding, a stranger is knocking on the door, a woodpecker is hammering on the tree, the beats of my heart are intertwined with the spontaneous and neurotic sounds of the city. The sounds of sirens, ascending and fading, crazy loud neighbors from downstairs, the invisible couple behind the wall producing loud sex … More Do Holdens Caulfields grow up?
The afternoon sun is baking drunk pies on Bourbon street. Neon signs are always on. The street is swarming with curious tourists, easy going couples, cheerful bachelorettes and bachelors sipping their tall Hurricanes. In the dressing room of Scores on Bourbon street I meet the most thrilling girls in the world. Dancers. Hustlers. Artists. MamaWolves. … More Adventures in Southlandia
When I wake up on Decatur steet first thing I do is open large french windows and get into the balcony in my panties and tank top with a cup of luke warm water with lemon. I don’t know what is it about the South air but it smells different. It smells Big Easy, moist … More Gimme dat raw crude New Orleans
I was pushing a year as the stripper when I walked in to Scores, The Mansion on Bourbon Street. I had danced at small strip joints like Pussy Cat Cabaret and Pumps a transient place for spoiled rebellious trust fund kids and hipster chicks from Bushwick, dressed in American Apparel sexyonesies, educated, articulate, well-read. … More A Bill Murray from Bourbon Street
“Where are you going Ma’am? the driver almost yells at me?” “4000 Downman Road, East N’Yoleans,” I yell back. He turns to the mirror and stares at me pensively and gives me a judgmental smirk. Miss, are you out of your mind? He says noticing my backpack, “What’s there?” “There’s a bar, down there, girls … More What dat Stripclub in the Swamp?
Mojitos. Nice expensive cars. Nice shoes, nice bags. Delicious lunch menus. A badass 26-year-old boyfriend who is already a partner in a law firm. Travels. Tennis on the weekend. I moan like Maria Sharapova when serving a ball. Fat corporate parties with local celebrities. Scuba diving in the Red Sea. “Guess, what? I am a … More Slow Death of a Corporate Chick. Part I
The Mississippi river was mysterious, dressed in white, all misty under layers of clouds. After walking miles and miles, exploring the town, working up and appetite for jambalayas and po-boys and gumbos and pralines I sat down on the bench at the River Front Park. A small party of stinky gutter punk kids with a … More Dat Bourbon street. Enter Scores
“Normal Man is a fiction” Carl Jung. I briefly pause before saying my name, lingering on an awkward moment of silence, reflection and stranger’s bewilderment. “Alex,” it’s Alex, my character’s name. She is stepping up full force. She is my medicine, my dream pill, my chill pill – she is behind the wheel. I let … More dam Groundhog, goodbye!
On the coast of the Sinai peninsula, in a small town of Dahab hides a mysterious azure hole, a submarine sinkhole, enveloped by a few cliffs and a desert. Welcome to Blue Hole, a scuba diver’s favorite diving spot. What a nice way to spend a short vacation, a spring break, a real exotic escape! Easy Entry, … More Down the Blue Hole
“You look like dat gal from the movie with al Pacino, the gal who falls in love with the mafia guy. Calrlito’s way!” Roberto says. “Sounds like me, ” I say laughing, getting off the stage, rolling down my little poly pink dress, a couple of Benjamins are strapped around my thighs. The shift is … More Wiggle wiggle at Pumps
Green jalapeño is a good kind of pepper that makes you sweat – a necessary ingredient for chili turkey, chili beans, guacamole. Just like red hot chili pepper it makes you sweat, it produces a good sweat, killing bacteria, purifying your mind and body, taking off your vices, exterminating a sore throat. Habanero, though is … More Habanero, Da’Bomb, The Final Answer on 111 John Street
Cortelyou Road. I wait for the train. A pleasant cloud of oriental scent rises above the train station from the cafe Tibet. Oriental & Middle Eastern theme is strongly present, its around the corner. Long black skirts, black pumps, black hassidic hats are intertwined with black burqas and blended by colorful hijabs embroidered with stones … More Oy Vey. Brooklynification