• The Post runs pictures from accused sex perv Peter Braunstein's "dream wedding," which resulted in a short-lived marriage back in the early 1990's. On a side note, this is about the 15th picture we've seen of Braunstein, and we still have no clue what he looks like. Is the dude some sort of photographic shape-shifter? [NYP]
• Great news: Crack and meth addicts make better financial investments! Time to start treating that bum with a little more respect. [Under the Counter]
• Google technology makes celebrity stalking easy! [Lifehacker]
• Why women like Hilary Swank date men like Chad Lowe: defying Manhattan's romantic caste system. [NYO]
• We've no idea who this Katherine woman is, the mysterious girl who swaps and redistributes prescriptions amongst her friends — but we'd very much like to be her BFF. [NYT]

According to Manhattan User's Guide, the top-secret, just-released (like two seconds ago) Michelin restaurant ratings are out:

The rules of media celebrity are fairly simple: You fluff a boldface name, you smack them down, and repeat until said individual's celebrity can no longer withstand another cycle. Martha Stewart is the perfect example, as her post-prison comeback might be fizzling. Her company's shares dropped 16% yesterday and her version of The Apprentice continues to blow. Stewart's magazines are doing well, but not enough to cover other losses.

This week's New York mag cover story is about how impossibly big your nest egg needs to be in order to comfortably retire; Time's cover story is about how the impossibility of a comfortable retirement.

The chart above comes courtesy of the evil souls at New York mag, who seem determined, week after week, to remind you of your place in Manhattan's social caste system. The latest attempt is a feature on your "New York Number," the amount you need stored up in order to gleefully quit your job or retire while maintaining your current lifestyle in The City. Complete with a handy quiz (like Seventeen for financial planners), you can determine the amount of your ideal nest egg and, most likely, kill yourself over the impossibility of ever living a life free of slave labor.

• We're not sure what's more disturbing: Heidi Klum's poor little baby, or the fact that In Touch is an international publication. [The Superficial]
• Jon Fine eagerly waves his hand, screams, "Pick me! Pick me!" in an effort to get a screenwriting gig on the inevitable Judy Miller/Valerie Flame movie. [FineOnMedia]
• Manhattan is the most expensive place in the United States. Also, bear shits in woods. [CNN]
• High-profile media mogul seeks submissive gimp for office play fantasies. [Craigslist]

Click to enlarge and hate your life.

• If you can stomach it, an overly thorough explanation of Paris Hilton's inextricable connection to capital markets. We'd hate to think the twatzilla has that much influence, but we're convinced at this point that God is dead and anything can happen. [The Stalwart]
• Is New York mag's Jennifer Senior stupider? Inquiring, extra-smart Jew minds want to know. [Canonist]
• Times music wonk Jon Pareles angers our neighbors to the great white north by incorrectly stating the origin of Broken Social Scene. Shame on him for making the Mounties cry. [Toronto Star]
• GQ gets increasingly Details. [Towleroad]
• Howard Kurtz reads blogs; blogs write about Judy Miller; Kurtz turns blogs into Washington Post column. Ta-da! [WaPo]
• Once again, the Times' Metropolitan Diary DOESN'T MISS A BEAT. [NYT]

A hearty congratulations to the folks at Masa, who have so effectively raped and pillaged the wallets of New York foodies as to be named Forbes' most expensive restaurant in America. With its beloved prix fixe menu situated aspirationally at $350 per head, is it any wonder? Of course not.

Bad news: The latest Fortune eschews any hopes you might have had for original wealth coverage in favor of the favorite fallback of writers and editors everywhere, The Listicle. Before your eyes glaze over, note that this listicle — the Envy List — is different. Instead of being based on data, numbers, or facts, the Envy List is merely a rundown of the power brokers who Fortune folks simply envy. Jealousy is the new reportage!

You may have come across the Shitty Tipper Database before — perhaps even as one of the titular shitty tippers. You're not alone: Cityrag has collected the best celebrity entries — can you guess which cheap-ass famous people the following irate things were written about?

According to this pleasant little report, incredithug rapper 50 Cent recently decided to give back to the New York community as much as possible in as little time as necessary: By merely handing out cash to kids. Alas, the man who made his name getting shot 5267 times was none too careful when counting his dollar bills. Instead of handing out $1800 as he intended, Fiddy mistakenly gave away $18000 to the neighborhood kids, prompting hysterics.

Once upon a time, things were simpler. Idealistic. An artistic man in artistic glases designed a master plan for Ground Zero, and everyone loved it.

The Treasury Department unveiled the new $10 bill at Ellis Island this morning, and it has all the anti-counterfeiting doo-dads they've included in the new 20 and 50: Colors, color-changing ink, watermarks, special threads. But we most noticed was the makeover performed on Alexander Hamilton — New Yorker, first treasury secretary, Post found. He still looks all colonial, but apparently even 200-odd years ago New York men were a touch metrosexual. How else to explain the carefully coiffed hair, the newly smooth skin, what appear to be tweezed eyebrows?

• After a decade in court, the battle for the estate of drug-bunny Anna Nicole Smith's late husband will now go before the Supreme Court. Smith will argue her case by taking off her shirt and handing out bottles of TrimSpa to any interested justices. [Page Six]
• Older actresses hate Paris Hilton, presumably because they're old and don't look so cute in pink. Jealous Debbies, all of them. [Scoop]
• Celebrity marriages are dying at an increasingly rapid rate, presumably because no one can keep their pants on. [Page Six]
• WE CAN'T GET ON THE DAILY NEWS WEBSITE! WHERE'S LLOYD GROVE?! DID RUSH EAT MOLLOY!? CRISIS!

And you thought your Super never did anything.

We have no idea if this emailer is telling the truth, but precedent in this matter gives us no reason to doubt his tale:

Our single favorite sentence in this week's New York:

The new Forbes 400 list is out — ranking the 400 richest Americans — is out, and the Forbes people tell us there are 41 media moguls on it. It's a lot of family money: There are five or six Hearsts, a Disney, an Annenberg, two Coxes. But what we're finding is making us surprisingly happy — maybe because we're interpreting as a victory for New York, or for magazines, or for people who aren't rightwing ideologues — is that Si Newhouse comes in above Rupert Murdoch.

Depending on how much faith you put into the wisdom of anyone trolling around fake-ivy Dartmouth, there may be brighter days on New York's otherwise disgusting real estate horizon. In a survey of 1,400 graduates of Dartmouth's Tuck School of Business, respondents said they'd rather invest in stocks than real estate because "housing prices aren't based on realities." (Hmm — that $2 million 1-bedroom in the West Village strikes us as very, very real.)