This originally appeared in Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in New York. Oh Kenka…Kenka…Kenka…Kenka. You are one of the weirdest fucking places I’ve ever eaten in my entire life and for that, I salute you. I’m literally sitting here in front of my computer trying to find the proper

There is nothing in the world quite like a neon sign. Sometimes big and other times small, they tend to represent the most obvious form of advertising in that they’re the best attention getters. I’m more likely to go to a place with a neon sign, since I adore them.

Despite it being one of the largest bars I’ve ever been to in NYC–seriously, you could do cartwheels after a couple rounds (OK not really)–I ALWAYS forget about The Ginger Man until after I’ve already chosen to go to another (crappy) bar. You’d think its 66 taps and 120 bottled beers would dance

A Few Things I Learned From My Short Trip to the Big Island of Hawaii: [disclaimer: as much as I joke about my broke-ass situation (which is still very much the broke-ass case), I’d like to acknowledge that I appreciate that I’m also pretty gosh dang lucky that I was

What better way to ring in the anticipation of Spring than by going to one of the the biggest beer gardens in the city? And guess what? They’re now having a 90s night every Tuesday so you can live out your La Bouche Pandora station out where the world can

My roommate and I have talked about how sometimes, we have an unofficial comedy litmus test when we’re first starting to get to know guys we’re dating. It’s not necessarily as simple as, if you don’t find this funny, I won’t date you, but it’s just sort of a way

I picked today’s subject under the bold assumption that I am not the only person who thinks pasta is one of the most awesome breakfasts foods, ever, ever. Why should we wait until night time to enjoy the the post-pasta eating euphoria when we can feel that bloat-er, I mean-glow

Although my Ohio State “I bleed scarlet and gray maaan” allegiance should keep me from ever so much as walking on the same side of the street of a bar known as my rival Michigan hang-out, I cannot resist the siren call of good nachos. And Professor Thom’s has the