The weekend’s enjoying a turcrantatostuffing sandwich.
Your Perks: 1) Someone to find you a Christmas tree, set it up, dress it and take it down. Done and done. 2) Endless draft beer and wings while you watch football at a MePa bar. 3) Tickets to a night of stand-up comedy. Plus a gratis cocktail. No joke.
Yesterday you celebrated the spirit of ruff-collared puritan togetherness signified by maize and game bird. Tonight you begin a two-night, dance-fueled prayer to electronic music by way of Germany. You’re versatile like that. It’s called Time Warp. It’s on a pier. And it’s not going to be tame.
“It’s holiday party season.”
“I’m cold.”
“Because I feel like it.”
Great excuses, all, for checking into Billy Reid this weekend and grabbing yourself a tweed sport coat,
maybe some moleskin jeans and a leather flight jacket.
We could tell you about how Mission Cantina’s doing breakfast now. And that it’s mostly going to be takes on Vietnamese stuff like pho but with lamb, rice with lemongrass sausage and porridge with duck. So... yeah, we’ll probably just do that.
The year: 1988. A young Bruce Willis, fresh off his star-making role on Moonlighting, defeats a German terrorist cell with help from Carl Winslow. Yeah, it’s Die Hard. It is a holiday season movie (don’t let anyone say otherwise), and you’re watching it this weekend, while eating brunch.
Antelope. Cork. Holographs. These are things being turned into Brother Vellies shoes in Africa. You can get them at the South Street Seaport at their pop-up. As if antelope didn’t have enough on their plates.
