Things we learned this weekend from the New York Times:

· New Jersey teens — the Rick Moodys of tomorrow — come to Manhattan to party, don't know where to go, get drunk anyway. [Times Square is Nifty, Dude!]
· Two is the loneliest number. [Swinging, So Out It's In.]
· Even for lesbians, an (allegedly) transitive verb is incomplete without a direct object: "I really liked fucking you." [The L Word]
· And finally, now we know what happens when frustrated poets end up as NYT editors — un-bylined prose poems devoted to the romance of the crappy weather. [This Gelid Atmosphere Will Slide Away]