I am a Native New Yorker. That’s not a typo. It should to be capitalized. It’s not pride in an accident of birth but it’s staying here long after many friends and family members have pulled up stakes and moved to more hospitable climes. I survived 9/11, the mortgage meltdown, and a nanny mayor who would be king. I survived a house fire, Hurricane Sandy, and the Polar Vortex. But New York City’s 25 miles per hour speed limit has got me thinking about packing my bags...
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Anthony Weiner: Show Us Your Stimulus Package
The Best Seat in the House
Meeting the Generation Gap, On My Way to Becoming the Crazy Aunt
Is That Your Real Hair?
My Right Eye Goes Rogue and My Inner Conspiracy Theorist Talks Smack
Manners are Due a Dog
I’m Big in Uzbekistan?
Off with Her Hair
My Furry Boys Have a Falling Out
Me? A Supermodel Look-A-Like?
Childhood in a Bag, A Not So Trivial Pursuit
Caramel Macchiato, Now with Extra TM
Surrounded by Spandex, My First 5K
Wistfully Watching Wisconsin
If You Ain't Sharin', People Ain't Carin'
Plunged Into Digital Darkness
Beyond Scared Straight
Praise the Lord & Pass the Ammunition
Cliche But Cool: Eating Alaskan King Crab Legs in Alaska
Going To Alaska, It’s The Long Johns Tour
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