The Way We Live Now: Misprioritized. We blow our emergency cash on suits. We spend all our time thinking about the lottery. We acquire stress ulcers while our wealth actually grows. Straighten up and fly right—for America.

It's only been a couple of days since he uttered the now-famous expression, but Ernie Anastos' screw-up on TV the other night already stands as his greatest legacy. The numerous clips of the moment have collectively racked up close to a million views on YouTube thus far (and that doesn't include all the parodies and remixes); Jon Stewart suggested last night that he might adopt it as his sign-off; and, in typical fashion, you can now find it stamped on t-shirts and mousepads. Is the G-rated version—"keep plucking that chicken"—destined to become a quintessential New York catchphrase? (Or a really annoying thing that you're going to hear endlessly repeated for the next few months?) The Times dialed up former mayor Ed Koch, since he was responsible for coining the expression "How'm I doin'?" in 1969. "It has a nice sound to it," he said. "It could become a phrase that people could use." [NYT]

Prepare for a bipartisan orgy of political posturing and apocalyptically awful punditry this weekend, as Barack Obama hits the Sunday talk shows while a bunch of Teabaggers pray for Jesus to come home at the Values Voters Conference.

Internet mogul Arianna Huffington thinks female sadness is a growing problem, so she's brought on a blogger to teach women how to "live richer, more purposeful, and, yes, happier lives." And he's a man, so he really knows his stuff.

Why do some extremely wealthy people often come off as so heartless? They're conditioned that way. And now there's science to prove it:

How did a group of private investors snag Skype for $2 billion+ when big public corporations like Google were too scared to bid, thanks to lawsuits? With stolen computer nerd sorcery, allegedly.

In your fading Friday media column: America's most august lefty magazine learns how to makes Ca$h the Ebay way, Ivy League murder obsession explained, Suze Orman may wake you up soon, and some assholes still love Tom Friedman.

Danny Pang, California's answer to Bernie Madoff, most likely died last weekend at his own hand, sources close to the police told the Wall Street Journal. The idea of life as a pariah, per Madoff, was apparently too much.

Project Runway is all about vision and delusion. The vision to tell a boldface lie, the delusion that people will believe it. The vision of finally having a good episode, the delusion that we'll not make fun of it.

Remember New York State Senator Hiram Monserrate, who stands accused of slashing his girlfriend's face? He decided this week to waive his right to trial by jury. The National Organization for Women wants him locked up for a long time.

You've heard of a spermine facial, haven't you? (If you haven't, it's exactly what you probably think it is.) How about a bird poop facial, which has gotten lots of media attention recently? Maybe you'd be interested in "extreme cryotherapy," which involves stepping into a chamber that's been cooled to 216 degrees below freezing and which may tighten your skin, assuming you survive? (You can actually scratch that last one off your list; it isn't available in New York just yet.) If you're feeling adventurous as we head into fall—and you've got some cash to burn—there are all sorts of dubious procedures you can subject yourself to, provided, that is, you can get beyond their horrifying descriptions. A collection of some of the zaniest ones—and where you can find them in NYC—is below.

An employee at a Texas school for the developmentally disabled has been sentenced to four years in prison for making the school's poor students battle each other Fight Club style. Well, to be fair: he's a trendy guy!

Fashion Week just OD'd. But I'm comforted by the fact that its sexy corpse will rise again to do another skeleton dance on the catwalk, seduce the style-obsessed among us, and throw up at an after-party at Indochine.

At minus-400 degrees, lunar craters full of billion-year-old ice are the coldest place in our entire solar system—colder even than Pluto, or the employee-relations portion of Martha Stewart's soul. [NYT]

The New Yorker Festival is coming up! It's Lollapalooza for the urban intelligentsia. Tickets go on sale today at noon, and if you don't buy them immediately then forget seeing the good stuff. A guide to the good stuff, below.

If you see a group of people sitting on a patch of artificial turf in the street and you're not sure why they're there or what they're doing, you're probably unaware that today is Park(ing) Day NYC, "an international event that reclaims parking spots and transforms them into engaging, people-friendly public spaces for one day a year." Event organizers are expecting a big turnout as they convert the parking spots into miniature parks once again this year. And there you were thinking there wasn't any upside to the news NYC's unemployment rate now stands at a 14-year high. [Gothamist]

If you've watched Wolf Blitzer struggle to ask relevant questions of interviewees or just fill up time with cliches and nonsense you might've gotten the impression that he is not very bright. He did Celebrity Jeopardy to prove you wrong!

Variety, the Hollywood trade newspaper with its only secret language based on words like "ankle" and "boffo" into its copy, has confirmed that it plans to put most or all of its web site behind a paywall.

[Paula Abdul attacks New York with her crazy martial arts moves yesterday. Image via INF]

Conde Nast! Every scrap of news about it is precious, because everyone's afraid that this McKinsey review is just an excuse to gut the once-fancy magazine empire. But! Conde's weakest magazines might even make it through this alive.