NYiR is Mad for Chicken

Marina of Italian STD clinic Venerio's fame turned me on to Mad for Chicken's Murray Hill location. Formerly known as Bon-Chon this place is a secret jewel in the midst of NYC souvenir shops.

Look for 314 5th Avenue and you'll find what appears to be an apartment building. Walk to the back of the lobby and up a flight of stairs and you'll magically enter this darkly-lit Korean restaurant that serves the best fried chicken in the city. That's right, New York is Ridiculous has finally (finally!) weighed in on the best fried chicken and it exists at Mad for Chicken.

Marina and I split the soy garlic sauce chicken dinner, which was 16 pieces for $23. A bit pricey for wings but exquisite. We also got the 2-liter container of beer pictured above. Both appeared within minutes and were delicious. I have to admit I wasn't in a beer-drinking mood until I saw the aquarium-esque equipment that surrounded the experience. It's like drinking refreshing beer from a lava lamp.

Mad for Chicken is a great date place. If you're both beer-loving chicken-wing eating dudes (NYiR officially recognizes that men AND women can be dudes who love chicken and beer).

Little branch has big flavor

"Recalling certain gentlemen of other days, who made of drinking one of the pleasures of life - not one of its evils; and who whatever they drank, proved able to carry it, keep their heads, and remain gentlemen, even in their cups. Their example is commended to their posterity." - abridged from The Old Waldorf Astoria Bar Book by A.S. Crockett

The above is the bulk of the text from the menu at NYiR's favorite fancy cocktail bar, Little Branch. Nice website right? It matches the other eye-catching aspects of this look-at-me bar. Namely, there's no sign (just a plaque that looks like it belongs outside your dentist) and that it's just a black door on a random street corner (featured above). If you can find it though you descend into a cozy, upscale parlor with sometimes live sometimes good old recordings of jazz and the best cocktails in Manhattan.

The bartenders are impeccably dressed and are excellent at what they do. Avoid the menu and just play Mad Libs. For example, "Hello there [name of impeccably dressed individual]. I would like to order a [liqour] based cocktail that features [your favorite color, season, sports team, whatever you want]." They will nod and a few minutes later produce heaven in a glass. I went for scotch and "something minty or spring-like" the other night and received a scotch-ade which was a mint, cucumber, scotch concoction that would best be served on a cool day in May.

I admit that the deliciousness comes at a price. $12. But it's the sort of alcoholic beverage that is worth $12. I recommend going here before going out for a night, on the early side, with a small number of people or just one friend. It's that cozy and precious. Like you. And Knut the polar bear.

Sperm spa treatments

This week we have decided to devote all three posts entirely to spas. Spa Week!

Now everyone knows that New York is Ridiculous loves seamen so but apparently at Townhouse Spa you can receive a facial that is not unlike every pornographic movie ever. According to New York Magazine spermine, an anti-oxident found in human sperm, has been proven to smooth out your wrinkles. So you can go to the Townhouse Spa and ask for a spermine facial. Oh yes. A spermine facial. It will cost you $250.

I went to their website but could not find which facial included the semen extract being rubbed all over your face. As a result I am going to guess it is the "Townhouse Glow Facial." Because after you receive it your face will glow. Under a blacklight. And because they finish with a "hydrating hand treatment." Who's hands and what are they treating? Anyone's guess. For my part I'll just stick to Townhouse's $175 snail-secretion facial. That's more my level of kink.

Anna Wintour will run for mayor

Over 700 clothing stores, designers, and hot dog vendors stayed open late last Thursday to celebrate Fashions Night Out, a new brainstorm from the lady who secretly runs this city, Fro Yo. Oh, sorry, I mean Anna Wintour. Most to all of these stores had free alcoholic treats for fashion-lovers and mooches such as myself. Because of the free booze and super mega sales it attracted massive crowds (see my official Fashions Night Out pic above).

According to the NY Daily Post good ol' Anna Wintour had Cynthia Rowley making jell-o shots and Oscar de la Renta singing to crowds in his own store all because she has Mayor Bloomberg by the balls. While he wanted to say "no" to this take over the city event he knew he would be run out of NYC. By me. Because I love going door to door like a 26-year-old trick-or-treater getting free booze. While waiting for the tardy twelve-term mayor Wintour was overhead saying, "“If he doesn't show, Diane [von Furstenberg] and I will run for mayor on a joint ticket and take over the city.”

If that means people getting all decked out in fashion's finest and turning all clothing stores into free champagne-flooded clubs she has NYiR's official endorsement.

In other news I'm on vacay so don't be bummed if I don't post 32534957 times this week. I'll be back next week. See you after I climb Mt. Awesome and ask the old man at the top why New York is so ridic. He'll probs be like, "Cause your blog reports it and thus it becomes reality" or some shiz.

Drinks at the SoHo Grand

I love cocktails. I'm not ashamed to admit it. They are yummy. Particularly at the SoHo Grand Hotel Bar and Lounge. I went there for a hangover brunch feeling awful and then I met you, Bloody Mary at the SoHo Grand. You were my everything. You picked me up when I was down. You gave me fresh life and restored me to perfect health. You are a miracle and I am so glad you have entered my life.

I'm also a big fan of the SoHo's Perfect Ten which consists of "stolichnaya vanil, pineapple juice, lemon." I don't know what language "stolichnaya vanil" comes from but I'm pretty sure it can best be translated as "nectar of the loins of the gods." It also has a slew of secret ingredients that get me as excited as when I'm on a boat. As you may recall I'm not a big fan of expensive drinks but I lurve the Perfect Ten.

Also, while this is a high class joint I highly recommend going there in jeans and a t-shirt because then everyone else in their suits and party dresses think you're in a band. And that's awesome.

The Box

The Box looks pretty classy right? It is if you define classy as an odd mix of $17 cocktails, burlesque, and cocaine. Which I do. On Gossip Girl it's owned by this guy which automatically makes it cool. But still, The Box is ridiculous! Here is a fun quiz to illustrate:

Which one of these things have I NOT seen at The Box:
A) A transexual picking up a bottle with her ass
B) Two women wearing Bert and Ernie heads making love to one another with a double-sided dildo
C) Ed Westwick

I hope you picked all of the above because that is true. Yes the pretend Box owner visits the real Box and I'm visiting the Box because I pretended to be someone famous in order to drink $17 drinks. Once again, a sign that art imitates life imitating me.

It is a very fun place to go though. The shows are wild and all but if you're in a more intimate mood swing a right at the top of the stairs and you'll find yourself in a curtained room that features your very own stripper pole. Did you know that those poles rotate? That's how all those neat lil tricks get done.

Here's a video from the Box that'll make you either 100% sure that you want to go or want it to close down immediately. My apologies for the bad link before - the previously linked to video was taken down because of "infringement" which probably means it was infringing on people's sensibilities. This one is much more tasteful.

Inaugural post: realtor fees

To start the greatest masterpiece of all internet New York fan-literature ever I have to touch on a subject that has effected almost everyone who has, does, or ever will live in New York City: realtor fees.

Getting an apartment in New York City can be exhausting. First there’s the mental exhaustion of looking at 132,435,321 places online. Then when you narrow it down to 5 places you want to see it becomes 10 because every realtor has one more place that is “just a few blocks away” that is smaller, darker, dustier, yet supposedly more like what I described to them.

So after weeks of preparation I end up wandering around in circles all over the city because some real estate agent just thought of one more place to show me that I'd absolutely love that's on the other side of some park. Cool. It's like a free guided tour of bad neighborhoods. Plus I don't have to go for a run for a week because I've just walked the New York Marathon.

But then, just when I’ve given up all hope, I find the apartment. Of course it’s more then I want to spend but it’s across the street from one I saw 12 hours earlier which is exactly where I want to be right? That loud humming noise coming from the restaurant downstairs? It’s like the realtor is saving me from buying my own noise machine to lull me to sleep each night. Fine, I’m exhausted, it seems like it’s a good place in a good location. I tell the realtor I’m in.

Now, I've looked at apartments before. I know the deal. My friends in California told me their realtors want 2-3%. But we’re on the East Coast; 5-7% is a bi hefty but if that’s what it takes…

As we approached the realtor office I began to think about the worst case scenario: one month's rent. Ok. I will figure out a way to do that. The realtor probably has little demon children to feed whose tails are growing more out of their pants every day (is that vaguely sexual? didn't mean it to be).

So imagine my surprise when I heard 15%. Fifteen percent!?!? Of an entire year! Are we having a funny moment? Am I supposed to laugh? 'Cause I'm giggling like a maniac. I can’t control myself.

Now I've watched too much dramatic television to not try to play some good cop/bad cop. I turn to my potential roommate who is looking rather pale and say, "We're not paying that." Pretending to appease me she slips into moderator mode. "Can I see your calculator?" she says. The realtor, who frankly couldn't give a shit about my theatrics and is playing with her blackberry, slides it over. The roommate presses random buttons for five minutes of uncomfortable silence before saying, "What about one month's rent?" And so the game begins.

The realtor shakes her head no. Angels cry and flames roar up from below warming my feet. Some back and forth. "This is silly," says I and make to get my coat. The realtor looks at me wondering if I'm really going to walk out. Maybe I am realtor, look into my soul with your demon eyes and see for yourself. Before my head explodes the roommate comes up with a counter proposal that works for Satan's minion: 10%.

Sure I have to call my mom and she has to offer them her first-born child but at least that first born child has an oddly shaped room in a New York City apartment now. And thus I was introduced to how ridiculous New York can be.

photo from apartmentguysofchicago.com