Eat Pray Love is one of those formulaic, cliché, feel-good “women’s films” that nonetheless makes me cry the whole way through. And obviously it’s based on a book, which is based on some woman’s real life experience. The only part that really bothered me about it was the happy ending.

People complained that it was episodic, and there wasn’t a well-developed plot, and it was too long, and the book was better, etc. etc. But at the end of the day I just wanted to watch Julia Roberts gorge herself on pizza and gelato, wear Indian saris, and make out with James Franco (and Javier Bardem). So I got exactly what I wanted, and sometimes, as Martha would say, “It’s a good thing.”

For anyone who complained about the movie, here’s my advice: “It’s ‘Eat Pray Love’ starring Julia Roberts … not ‘Consumption Devil Worship Bestiality’ starring Isabella Rossellini.’”

- Haley Hogan

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The Red Light District in Amsterdam is one of the city’s main tourist attractions, where prostitutes pose in street-side lairs and blow kisses at passersby through large windows. Hookers trolling the streets of Zurich don’t have it as good – the Swiss have found them to be such an eye sore that police are building drive-in “sex-boxes” to block them from public view. Naturally, the forward-thinking Germans already have them.

Lazy creepers worldwide are rejoicing in the fact that they don’t have to get out of their cars to get laid. Switzerland is certainly setting a moral example: it’s much more responsible to cage society’s depraved individuals than to let them roam free.

- Lizzie Crocker

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Even though I wasn’t old enough to form memories in the 1980s, I am now able to appreciate the not-so-subtle beauties of that lost era — mostly through campy ’80s flicks, like the Bret Easton Ellis adaptation, Less Than Zero, starring Robert Downey Jr. in his very early drug-addict days. Something about shoulder pads on men and women, mixed with a plethora of decorative TV monitors playing music videos, epitomizes the word “bitch’n!”

The film is known for being a bust and a botched representation of the original novel. But I enjoyed the vision of 19-year-old rich L.A. kids bumming around the city at Christmastime feeling as lost and deranged as kids feel these days knowing that there is no economic boom. I guess some things never change, no matter the state of the financial market.

- Haley Hogan

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I went to Newport for some beach time, since I am so in need of relaxation given that I don’t have a job, don’t go to school, and don’t even volunteer at some altruistic organization.

Newport, Rhode Island stirs up visions of Gatsby, the Jazz Age of overly large summer houses. Nowadays, Newport arouses images of drunken bikers with tattoos passing through town on their way to New Hampshire, and the occasional preppy wearing seersucker and fondling his bride-to-be during their nuptial weekend.

I went to a beach club bar where most of the men were shirtless, too tan, and tattooed, and there were drunken midday bachelorette parties as well. I felt like I was in an episode of Jersey Shore. That show is one of the only trashy American pleasures that I will never understand.

- Haley Hogan

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At the club in my neighborhood on Thursday nights it is a scene of extreme dance-offs involving large, gay break-dancing men. I felt a bit eclipsed by their skills, but once I broke out my girlish jump split, I felt I had something to add to the evening.

Speaking of feats of dexterity, my new kitten has taken to arranging cherry tomatoes into beautiful contemporary art tableaus. Check out the video footage here.

- Haley Hogan

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The vilest married couple in Manhattan has turned to violence. TV producer extraordinaire, Sandy Frank, is now officially geriatric at age 81. But that doesn’t mean he can’t play the field, Hugh Hefner style. Sandy has been philandering around, and his 57-year-old former model wife, Brenda Frank, expressed her feelings toward him by throwing wine glasses at him. And like a typical wanker, Sandy reciprocated the gesture. The Upper East Side brawl devolved into such a debaucherous scene of shattered crystal and bloody collagen that the police arrested them.

Brenda is planning a divorce. It will have been a brief marriage for the Franks, since their wedding took place a mere eight months ago, just after Sandy dumped his Palm Beach socialite of the moment.

In the end, maybe it wasn’t about being faithful. Apparently an insurance bill was involved, so things were bound to get sticky.

- Haley Hogan

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Martin Amis, the enfant terrible of British novelists, recently came to Manhattan to read from his new book, The Pregnant Widow. During the summer of 1970, the novel’s protagonist and several other privileged 20-somethings frolic in a castle outside of Rome, reveling in the newfound sexual liberties of their time. Amis could have chosen to read a lush passage from this part of the book, but instead he gave us the protagonist’s perspective as a jaded middle-aged man reflecting on his lost youth. Life inevitably deteriorates, as the novel’s cryptic title suggests.

But if Amis is struggling with the aging process, he masks it well – he’s one of those intelligent older men with a perpetually naughty countenance, who remain sexy well into their sixties. John Updike was another. His novel, Couples, like The Pregnant Widow, is a juicy story about the sexual revolution. But Updike’s prose is perfectly tuned whereas Amis’ occasionally falls flat. When you’re a magician with words, chances are you’re also a pimp. Perhaps this is why my friend fantasizes about the late Vladimir Nabokov “even in the grave.”

- Lizzie Crocker

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Without a job and without a place to live (other than my dad’s apartment, which doesn’t really count), I decided the only thing left to do was to throw myself into charity work. So I adopted a stray cat from the Animal Rescue League of New Hampshire and was immediately gratified by my good deed doing.

She is a miracle of beauty and science. There are no words to describe the adorableness of a kitten cleaning itself, yawning, drinking out of water glasses, chasing its tail, napping, eating, hiding, hunting, etc. The world is a magical place for cats, and they can amuse themselves by simply staring at the water dripping in the tub, or watching the bubbles move in a bottle of sparkling water. I wish I could learn more from my kitten, Princess Mirabella, but unfortunately I can only watch in wonder.

- Haley Hogan

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The travel industry is branching out into straight-up brothels. A new resort in Australia, the “Lynx Lodge,” is set to be the “ultimate man-cation” spot where men can get every one of their itches scratched. You might think that since it’s an all-male resort, there would be a definite gay vibe: organic pistachio cake bake-offs, cashmere sweater folding contests, nude charades, and the like.

But the Lynx Lodge is just for straight boys who like to be waited on by hot models and a troop of Hugh Hefner’s past/present/future girlfriends. The PR rep for the resort claims it’s all about playing on “popular male fantasies,” so I am guessing there will be a lot of burgers, boobs, beers, and butts. At least men finally have their own wanker-version of Canyon Ranch.

Talk about gauche things to do: “Hi, honey, this Christmas I won’t make it to your parent’s house, because I will be having a series of orgies and golf games with a bunch of strangers outside of Sydney.” Who needs sex tourism when you can park your ass in a pool filled with willing female cocktail waiters?

- Haley Hogan

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Looking for jobs in Manhattan, or in any city in America (or the world), for that matter, in this dismal economy, is almost as fun as going to get a pelvic exam. But a pelvic exam is a lot more satisfying. At the very least, you get your results back within two weeks. With most job applications, I get the impression that my Gmail doesn’t work and my resume is being submitting into some black hole of unrealized potential.

- Haley Hogan

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