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The hands came out of the pockets. The gaze was intense. Mitt Romney leaned confidently into the lectern.
Hip young New Yorkers hate waiting for the subway. They wouldn't be caught dead near tourist sites and couldn't care less if a celebrity walked by. They're snobby about what they read, even snobbier about what they eat, stick to their own borough, and call the most minuscule bedrooms "huge."
Hollywood loves the Next Big Thing, and four years ago, that was Barack Obama, the equivalent of a breakout movie star.
Sure, we had wars, natural disasters, a growing populist movement and a presidential race heating up, not to mention the deaths of a technology icon, a silver-screen goddess and a couple of shadowy dictators.
For so many American kids, it's their first — and sometimes only — exposure to ballet: A holiday performance of "The Nutcracker," that classic tale of a little girl's dreamlike encounters with battling mice and toy soldiers, a dashing prince, a growing Christmas tree and a land of sweets.
David Chang knocks several times on an unmarked, street-level door in downtown Manhattan. Someone inside clearly recognizes the boss's knock, and the door opens quickly. The whole place is the size of a nice walk-in closet.
Walk into Pure Food and Wine on Manhattan's chic Irving Place and out back to its spacious, luxurious garden, and you might spot actress Katie Holmes. Or Alec Baldwin and his new girlfriend, whom he met at the restaurant.
His wife couldn't be there herself to accept her honor. So Mark Kelly, husband of recovering congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, spoke on her behalf. But, he made clear, his wife was still running the show.
NEW YORK — When David Hallberg was 9, he brought his brand new tap shoes to show-and-tell at school. The other boys all brought their hockey sticks. It can be lonely being a boy who loves dance, especially in the American heartland.
As other protesters chanted vigorously around her, Nancy Pi-Sunyer stood off to the side at the Occupy Wall Street rally, clutching her sign, looking a little like a new teacher on the first day of school.
Of all the tributes that poured in after Steve Jobs' death, clogging up Twitter and dominating the airwaves, he might have most appreciated one small gesture from an anonymous fan: A juicy red apple, partially eaten to mimic the Apple logo, placed against the door of an Apple store in Manhattan.
The producers of New York's Fashion Week have canceled a show scheduled for next week by the daughter of the president of Uzbekistan amid pressure from a human rights group and a planned protest over the use of child labor in her country.
David Rand cheerfully acknowledges he's an overprotective father. An ex-Marine who served in Afghanistan and Iraq, he's also a single dad to 5-year-old Emma.
"It's shocking, I know," says Gloria Steinem, allowing herself a wry grin.
When Kristen Bakalar was pulled into a wooded area by a stranger and raped, three weeks after beginning college, she didn't think twice about reporting it.
"Try it. Go ahead, stick your finger in!"
Jon Austin's wife, Amy, had a blunt assessment for her husband as the Minneapolis couple watched Rep. Anthony Weiner's stunning confessions on television this week.
It's scrawny. It's dirty. It's bulbous. Its very name is rather pedestrian.
When Hyojin Jenny Hwang wrote on Facebook that she was saddened by the sight of young Americans like herself jubilantly cheering Osama bin Laden's death, the angry response was swift, even from friends.
It's a sight many Americans would surely love to see: a recovering Rep. Gabrielle Giffords watching as her astronaut husband blasts off into space.
James Taylor has filled huge arenas, won five Grammys, been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and influenced generations of musicians. His 2010 Troubadour Reunion Tour with Carole King was a major commercial success. Yet every single time he gives a concert, he worries people won't come.
Of all the thousands upon thousands of words said, written or broadcast about Charlie Sheen in the past week, one pithy tweet may have best summed up the seemingly endless appetite for all things Charlie.
A few moments into the new Broadway revival of "That Championship Season," the characters of James, a school principal in early 1970s Scranton, Pa., and Phil, a local businessman, bound onstage together, laughing.
Jay Lassiter is no longer "in a relationship."
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