Some might say Michael Bloomberg is the face of New York City, others might say A-Rod or even Trump. I dissent. The face of NY is this dude I just drew on a post-it whose delicately-rendered features belie the complexity and accretion of culture that signify New York. By culture, of course, I mean places to get wasted and gorge yourself. What is the face of New York if not a slightly femme bald but mustachioed pudgy wide-eyed man?
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Lips: Abounding with dicks (in dresses) and bachelorettes, the West Village drag bar is a slightly classier version of the East Village’s Lucky Cheng’s. Don’t eat the food. Don’t drink the drinks (mad tax y’all) but do sing karaoke and feel profoundly alienated.