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RuPaul’s DragCon NYC Turns Javits Center From Drab to Fab

(Photo: Summer Cartwright)

It’s never too early for glitter buffets, BDSM photo ops or Lady Gaga. At least, it wasn’t too early at 4 p.m. today when we stopped by the Javits Center for a preview of RuPaul’s DragCon NYC.

The convention, devoted to all things drag queen, runs through the weekend, and includes vendors (makeup, wigs, glitter), personalities (RuPaul is, in fact, going to make an appearance) and shows (Mean Girls may have performed sexy “Jingle Bell Rock” first, but the queens and cast of the Broadway production took it to the next level).

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In The Lifespan of a Fact, Daniel Radcliffe Combats Fake News– On Broadway

Do facts really matter when there are so many opinions regarding what constitutes a truth?

That question is at the heart of John D’Agata and Jim Fingal’s 2012 book, The Lifespan of a Fact, now a Broadway play. Currently showing at Studio 54, the new production, which debuted Sept. 20 and runs for 16 weeks, prompts its audience to reflect on what is fact, what is fiction, and why the discrepancy between both matters, a theme all the more relevant in 2018.

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A Montauk Magazine Just Brought a Pop-Up Dive Bar to the East Village

(Photo: Summer Cartwright)

The trendy elusiveness of a pop-up and the grungy walls of a dive bar have combined to make The Boneyard, a spot in the East Village that’ll stay alive until October 6.

Unlike current pop-ups in the city, like Rihanna’s SAVAGE X FENTY lingerie brand, or Supreme’s exclusive day-only spots, The Boneyard is brought to you by a media outlet. Whalebone Magazine— a Montauk-based “publisher of fine prints,” according to its website– is behind the project. On the heels of its dive-bar issue, the outlet, which has an “about” section comprised of a few sentences and a “Nicholas Cage Losing His Shit” video, teamed up with Seagram’s 7 to really celebrate the grunge and grease of America’s favorite hole-in-the-walls.

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New York City Does Not Have Enough Ranch Dressing

In the land of dreams and opportunity, a dark secret roams the streets, hides itself on the menus of pizza shops and local pubs, and is known only to those bold enough to ask.

There is no ranch dressing.

That’s right. In the melting pot of the world, a dressing which is basically an emblem of flavors that make up America (cream, aka the thick milk found in udders of our country’s cows; spices, found in dirt somewhere, probably out west; and good ol’ U.S. saturated fat, found in everything but black coffee and skim milk) is nowhere to be found.

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