The typical, maligned vision of the indie music fan revolves around not their cultivated taste, but the seemingly-unavoidable musical elitism that that cultivated taste induces. They know too damn much. And they knew it before you did, which is why they got upset when Wilco got big and Modest Mouse

Ever since our office moved from the East Village to Midtown, I find myself forced to defend my decision NOT to try the latest oooh-we-chop-up-salads-therefore-we-feel-justified-charging-almost-$10-for-it spot for lunch. “You cannot buy this yourself cheaper at a store- crispy chicken, cheddar and blue cheese, spinach, avocado, bacon and anything else you

One thing that I often miss from my childhood growing up in the ‘˜burbs is drive-in movies.  They were always so much fun, even though I usually ended up falling asleep half way through and would, without fail, sit on whatever chocolaty movie treat I had brought along. Lucky for

Heart-to-heart time: One of the hardest money-related problems I seem to have is feeding myself on a consistent basis. An occasional FREE meal I can win and FREE fruits and veggies is an exciting development, but eating every day is hard to figure out. The easiest and most delicious solution

New Yorkers are so hard up for pool access, we’ve settled for diving into converted “dumpsters” in a desperate attempt to cool off. What was last summer’s hipster punchline is now a full-blown public project. Since last year’s not-so secret dumpster project in Gowanus, the folks behind Macro Sea decided

Are you at least moderately intelligent? Since you’re reading Broke-Ass Stuart, I’m gonna go with yes! Gird your gray matter into an even larger pulsing muscle with Monday night trivia at Liberties in the Mission. Every Monday at 8pm, you can come battle me and my team of brainiacs for

Ever since General Foods Corp. convinced John Glenn to take a can of Tang along with him into space, there’s been something delightfully space-agey about flavored drinks you can make with only water and a little packet of powder. Unfortunately most of them aren’t actually very good at all, but

Neon beer signs and red lighting reflect off a black and white checkered floor, while people trade strange stories at little tables, each individually lit by it’s own pinkish colored lamp. You scan the crowd and see a couple old drunks, tall, hot model-looking girls, guys in jackets from a