This NY Times recommendation feature has discovered more about me in the past 30 days than I’ve discovered about myself in the past 31 years.

(That last one I kinda figured, but I had no idea I had such an incredible love of asparagus.)

…can be found here. It is with the preeminent music blog SYFFAL.

In addition to horsey porn, we cover music, women, drinking, and more music. Also, there’s a mention of the Million Dollar Man (of course).

(And don’t worry – it’s safe for work. But if you’re on this site, you’re probably not concerned with “safe for work.”)

Way, way back in 2005, when I was a big-shot blogger and a super hot bachelor, I wrote about this new internet radio thing called Pandora. My friend Lauren introduced me to it and it totally, totally blew my mind. Of course, most of what I wrote on my blog about it was complaining about its shortcomings, but, well, that’s just my nature. (I did say it was great, though.)

After I wrote the post, I got an email from someone at Pandora, thanking me for spreading the word and asking me for my mailing address. A few days later, a Pandora t-shirt and hand-written note from Tim Westergen, co-creator of the site, arrived in my mailbox. I was touched by the gesture, and sent a note of thanks and “continued best of luck” back.

I probably should have sent more than a thank you note back. Crap.

[Author’s note: I looked for the email that I got from the Pandora person, but - and this should give you an idea of how long ago this was - the email I was using for the blog at the time was a LYCOS ACCOUNT, which has since been deleted due to inactivity. Man. Long, long time ago.]

[Damn it.]

[But great for them, of course.]

On Friday evening, some friends and I gathered on the rooftop of an apartment in the West Village to have drinks and luxuriate. The apartment belongs to my friend Nicole’s aunt and uncle, who every year go out of town, leaving the place to Nicole. And so every year, we go over there and have some drinks on the roof, like fancy New Yorkers.

But this time, there was a tinge of sadness to our little rooftop party. Nicole’s aunt and uncle are selling the place, and so this would be our last year on the roof. Bummer.

(One of my biggest regrets is that after living in NYC for almost ten years, I don’t know anyone with a fancy apartment and roof. Well, let’s scratch that – I don’t know anyone with a fancy apartment and roof that would let my friends and I on their roof/in their nice apartment to get bombed. I’m seriously bummed about this.)

It was a lovely night. But it was not very low-key. I figured we’d hang out, have some drinks, then wind the evening down when the sun set. Um, no. We left at 3am – that’s when we ran out of alcohol and when it started raining like mad. At about 3:30am, my girlfriend and I were running through the streets of Brooklyn from the bagel store (where we had the cab drop us off) back to our apartment with bagels in ... read more

I had my first cup of coffee in two years this morning. I usually drink (hot) tea, but, as the heat index in downtown NYC was about 110 at 9:30am, I instead went to McDonald’s to get a sugar-free vanilla iced coffee. Three thoughts:

1) I am no stranger to caffeine (see: tea every morning, my ritual diet Pepsi around 3:30pm, two vodka red bulls to pre-game with on Friday nights), but the charge that gave me was closer to “cocaine” than “caffeine”

2) I had to poop before I even finished the coffee

3) My pee smells really weird

That is all.

(And yes, I am actually paid to tell stories.)

(Though not very much, so I guess it works out.)

Pretty much every meal I’ve had in London.