Richie The Mover

Friday, August 28th had been circled on my calender for quite some time. That was my moving date into Manhattan and as exciting as living in the big city in the world sounded, the idea of transporting all of my possessions was equally as stressful.



Let's face it, there's the bed, couches, clothes, TVs, it's alot of crap to haul around. Then you gotta decide where you're putting everything and take into consideration all the feng shui stuff... I don't know feng shui!

Finally, my roommate convinced me to take a friend's referral of a moving service. I figured it would smooth along the process.

When the big Friday arrived, I kicked off the morning with a trip to to the local bagel shop and when I returned to our apartment, the crew was already inside standing around. Except that's all they seemed to be doing... standing around. Not discussing strategy, or informing me what was going to happen. They didn't even say hello back to me. Instead, they gave me a funny look with a half smile. I was getting concerned.

... and then it happened.

The door flew open, and in Kramer-like fashion, a heavy set man walked in and introduced himself as Richie. Richie to the rescue. It turned out that he was the only one who spoke English which explained the awkward silence.

From there on out it was smooth sailing. Richie was like the freakin LeBron James of moving. He taped up the boxes at lightening speed, hauled our beds down the stairs with the strength of an ox and all while dishin out orders to his seemingly clueless teammates. He was the general.



More importantly, Richie kept us completely in the loop regarding the process. He even made up fake expenses that he was voiding to make us feel like we were getting a good deal. You know what? I appreciated it!

Sometimes it pays to delegate. You can't put a price on that kind of convenience. Thanks to Richie, I was ready to officially soak up the city life by 3 in the afternoon. That's Sprezzatura.

Thanks for being so clutch, Richie!

His Secret Weapon (Featuring Ms. Terry)

(As discussed, there have been suggestions to add some women perspective to the site. So once again, today's post comes from a female contributor, Ms. Terry.)

Ms. Terry: I’ve always prided myself on having a lot of male friends. I was the girl that could chill with the guys, without being “one of the guys”, and my female role was always prevalent.

They've benefited because I helped with their wardrobe, picked out birthday and anniversary gifts, and advised them out of countless jams with their significant others.



I've planned romantic dates, taught them how to do laundry, and so on. All of which probably deserves a metal of honor but it’s my role to stay behind the scenes.

A guy’s platonic woman friend is his secret weapon. Such a companion is incredibly useful but must be kept on the down low around his love interests.

No girl wants to hear how close another woman is with her boyfriend/guy that she’s dating. Nor do we want to hear that she’s responsible for picking out the necklace that adorns our neck. After all, we’re most likely only wearing it because it came from him (even though it totally clashes with our usual style).

Women like to feel assured that they’re his “go to girl”- the one he calls on for everything. I am not saying that guys shouldn’t have female friends, but like anything else, there is a time and place.

For example, any discussion involving female friends should definitely be kept under wraps during a first date. It doesn’t matter if this friend is married, gay or fat to the point where her stomach protrudes so far that kissing is not even a threat as it would be a physical impossibility… NEVER talk about female friends on a first date.



First dates are about getting to know each other and seeing if there is chemistry. It’s not when women want to learn about how wonderful and platonic a man’s friendship is with someone else.

I was actually on a first date with a guy, which was going pretty well until his phone started going off… it was her. Not an ex or another girl he was dating, but his female bff.

She knew we were on a date, and actually texted to see how it was going. (seriously girls, if your guy friend is on a date, don’t text an hour in for status – he’ll let you know if he needs your help and if it was that bad – he'll call you right after he escapes).

How do I know this? He told me – which was naturally followed by an explanation of who she was, how close they were and how why they were really just friends. Does that really sound like a conversation anyone girl wants to have on a date especially the first one?

I don’t think so. Keep the secret weapon… a secret. That’s Sprezzatura.

A Picture Says 1,000...

Warning: You can easily waste your entire day browsing around this link.

Thanks to Kevin for today's shout which is filled with infographics, or as coedmagazine.com puts it, "those clever, funny images that sum things up, lickity-split!"

Click Here!

The Tribe

Whenever it's time to kick off the week, I always think back to Office Space's famous quote. But while I'm tempted to give in and admit, "Yea, I got a case of the Mondays... Kill me.", that attitude doesn't exactly make me feel better.

Besides, when you're part of the coffee tribe, you've got your go-to morning ritual. It's only a matter of time before you're sitting back, inhaling deep and taking in that unmistakable aroma of freshly roasted beans.



We all know a few of "The Others" that are too good for the caffeine laced beverage. Whenever the topic comes up in conversation, they'll throw out the benefits of avoiding the habit. Maybe they have a few good points but I couldn't care less. Coffee tastes great, gets the juices flowing and puts me in the zone.

I even work in a nice little rotation regarding my morning pickup. For example, Starbucks is ONLY ordered on Tuesdays. Starbucks Tuesdays. What better way to spice up the most boring day of the week than loadin' up on the franchise's double dose of caffeine? My day's flyin and the next thing I know it's already time for lunch!



It's good to be part of the tribe. So today, take solace in realizing that although it's Monday, everything is gonna be alright. Whether you enjoy iced or hot, light or dark roast, skim or whole milk, Splenda, Sweet and Low, or sugar... Your coffee never lets ya down. That's Sprezzatura.

The Park Slope Grand Finale!

For 2 years I've been living in Park Slope, Brooklyn and never ventured out to the local night life. It's a nice area but I've always felt a little out of place (everyone here's raising young families... who's got time for that??) and so I've done my bar hopping in Manhattan.

Well, I'm finally moving to the promise land in a week and my roommate, Matt, and I decided that we had to give Park Slope ONE shot before we bounce!



There's something exhilarating about embracing a care free summer night in a foreign area where you don't know a soul. Armed with the right amount of vodka, a night with zero expectations can feel like a dreamworld. I agreed to play wing man for my newly single roommate and we hit a list of bars that were referred to us by his coworker.

On the way over, I couldn't help but second guess my actions over the past couple of years. What if one of these bars was actually good? What if a Brooklyn utopia existed that required specific Park Slope ID to get in and was filled with the finest of women who fed you grapes, Dove dark chocolates and waved those breezy large vine leaves while giving in to your wildest sexual favors?? Had I missed the boat?!

I hoped otherwise...

And so we set forth on our night. After about an hour it was pretty uneventful. There were no secret bars, no dark chocolate and no fun people to talk to. Still, that's the beauty of zero expectations. We decided to check out the last destination on the list before calling it a night.

Immediately as we walked in, Matt tugged on my shoulder- "Steve, we GOTTA go mack it with them shawties over there!". Just kidding, he doesn't really talk like that. But he showed interest and we went to introduce ourselves.



So we walked over all smooth, started up a little chit chat and Matt bought the ladies a couple of drinks. The conversation was flowing.... Good vibes. For a guy who just got back in the game my man was killin' it! He had em laughing, smiling, I mean the dude was working magic. It was like watching a puppet master.

I was happy for him. It really looked like he had found his groove.

And then, just as I'm kickin back and enjoying the show, my wing woman (or whatever the term would be?) leaned in and whispered in my ears the only words that can simultaneously let you down and yet turn you on... but mostly just let you down:

"You guys know we're lesbians, right?"

...Tough break, Matt. You'll get 'em next time.

In the meantime, good bye, Park Slope. It's been real.

Rock Bottom & Still Sprezzin'

Thanks to Mike for today's link... 25 Awesome Homeless Guy Signs... Mad funny!

Click here to check it out

Sprezz Handbook: The Gum Factor

Anyone with Sprezzatura understands that there are two things you should have on lock while you're out and about.

First, you gotta look sharp. This doesn't necessarily mean wearing designer clothes, but more importantly, it's how you rock what you've got- with swagger and confidence.

Then, there's the second factor. Maintaining that fresh aura. Ever been around someone that smells especially good? You're opinion of them instantly skyrockets. People wanna roll with the winners and winners take care of themselves.



My buddy JB and I always joke about the gum factor. We've all been there... You're out on a date and the night starts off well enough. There's attraction, the vibes are flowing, and you both seem to be really enjoying yourselves. Then, without paying much attention, you innocently accept their offer for some gum.

... And that's when it happens.

What you receive is no ordinary piece but in fact the stalest and sorriest excuse for gum you've ever seen... It's like biting into a mint flavored rock! You have to wonder how long it's been buried at the bottom of their bag just collecting dust.

Or worse, you might get the melted gum. Gross. Now you're stuck spending the next 15 seconds trying to scrape it off the wrapper without offending the other person.

Remember, your gum represents you... What impression does yours make?

And as JB always says, just once, it would be nice to see a woman bust out a bag of Big League Chew! That's Sprezzatura.