This is Exit, right? One of the bar-backs wears a Ben Sherman polo, and women wrestle on the TVs behind the bar. But there are also gin and tonics. Flannel. Middle-aged men in Bears pullovers flirting with the roller-derby girls selling raffle tickets near the door. The girls, sporting heavy makeup and Chicago Outfit t-shirts, point everyone up the stairs. Tonight, the Outfit host their second annual spaghetti-wrestling fundraiser, with part of the proceeds going to Action Against Hunger.

Upstairs, the feeling is a little bit more punk—at least it definitely smells more punk. Bodies are crammed together, anxiously looking around waiting for the action to start. In the middle of the crowd is an inflatable kiddy pool filled with a gross amount of shimmering spaghetti. The crowd is equal parts guys and women, but a few guys—in an oddly perverted way—are much more vocal in their urging on of the wrestlers. Around 11pm, someone interrupts the Dead Kennedys to say there are some technical difficulties, but that the wrestling will soon start. Rory, one of the louder and bigger attendees, is crammed against the side wall. He shouts, “I will be your technical difficulty if you don’t start the show!” Read the rest of this entry »

This Week’s Biggest Gainers

1 Shani Davis
The Chicago Olympian won a gold and a silver in speed skating in the Winter Games. Read the rest of this entry »

By Rob Brezsny

ARIES (March 21-April 19): “Everything is complicated,” wrote poet Wallace Stevens. “If that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.” I hope you will choose his wisdom to serve as your guiding light in the coming weeks. It is high time, in my astrological opinion, for you to shed any resentment you might feel for the fact that life is a crazy tangle of mystifying and interesting stories. Celebrate it, Aries! Revel in it. Fall down on your knees and give holy thanks for it. And by the way, here’s a big secret: To the extent that you do glory in the complications, the complications will enlighten you, amuse you, and enrich you. Read the rest of this entry »

This Week’s Biggest Gainers

1 Frank Thomas
The longtime Sox great announced his retirement, and the team announced it will officially retire his number 35 come August. Read the rest of this entry »

By Rob Brezsny

ARIES (March 21-April 19): I personally don’t believe we’re living in the worst of times, although I know many people who do. While there are indeed reasons to despair, our current state of affairs is actually in many ways quite glorious. And our struggles are puny compared to those of the generation that lived through the two World Wars and the Great Depression. Having said that, I think it’s fine to believe that civilization is in a terrible mess if it motivates you to shed all your trivial distractions and inessential wishes so as to dedicate yourself to living an exciting, generous life that’s rich with love and meaning. Now is a prime time for you, Aries, to dedicate yourself to such a path. Read the rest of this entry »

In acknowledgment of Valentine’s Day, we present our annual Love & Sex issue, featuring three tales of those two very distinct pieces of human existence. Three stories directly from the trenches, full of lust, longing and heartbreak. Full of life itself.

Enjoy. And for dining specials linked to Valentine’s Day weekend, visit resto.newcity.com.

Look at Me

The Bitter Taste of Amy

A Break-Up

By Jessica Meyer

I barely knew this woman, but I liked her, she was brash and witchy, so when she pulled me into the bathroom at a party I was too old for, brandished a compact full of dope, and asked me who I was fucking, I wanted to tell her something scintillating and mysterious, but the boring truth was this: I was freshly raw over the end of a serious relationship and hadn’t had any action in months. I tell her how long it’s been, how much I just want to rub up on these sexy young men with swaggering egos and tight pants, they are writhing so close and smirking through the beer, and I’ve been dancing, and here, I admit, I get a little breathless, going on while she cuts up lines and nods, solemn and intent.

She meets eyes with me in the mirror, checks her nose for residue, and tells me, with conviction, “I know someone.” I follow her out, amused, protesting a little—”I’m not really that kind of girl!”—but then I get swept up by the DJ, he’s playing Prince, and everyone is going nuts and it’s fun, even if I’m older than everyone here, I’m having a good time, and I really am that kind of girl, who am I kidding.

I’m only 27, my heart is broken, but my desire to fuck attractive men is not.

I see my wild new friend through the crowd, she’s talking to someone and soon enough a boy with sweaty hands and a pretty smile is sidling my way and grabbing my hips. He says he loves my hair, does this endearing move with his face in my neck, and my weak resolve is thoroughly ruined. Yes, I say, I will go home with you.

We are both only vague friends with our matchmaker, and have, in fact, met before, but briefly, and without the maelstrom of desire that seemed to engage every person at the party we had just left. He drives us to his house, furious kissing at all red lights, and by the time we get there, I am so ready I have already unbuckled my belt, removed my coat, unbuttoned a layer.

There is something cinematic about struggling up flights of stairs while trying to sustain a passionate embrace with someone; eventually, though, this feels ridiculous and it’s a relief to get in the door and out of my clothes. Read the rest of this entry »

By Pete Bailey

She pukes.

All over the car door, the passenger door, my car’s passenger door, as we sail north up Damen Avenue, New Year’s Eve. We’re only two drinks into the evening—I’m driving, after all, and we’re heading to a place we can crash for the night—and she vomits a great awfulness all over her side of the car. Two friends are in the backseat, a couple, Jane and Fred. Amy, my date, looks mortified in embarrassment. She’s got puke on her pink shirt.

“I puked.”

“I know.”

I turn, pull over, stop in front of Nick’s Beer Garden, and Jane takes Amy inside to help her clean up in the tavern’s bathroom. Fred and I sit in the car; I’m furiously wiping away the two-drink upchuck on the interior. Fred repeats “Dude” over and over again, each utter more and more dramatic, until the women return. Read the rest of this entry »

By Lisa Buscani

When we started, I was thin. My face was a diamond, all clean walls. I was weightless but I had control, like astronauts after they learn to swim properly in space.

Our conversations used to overlap and dovetail and interweave and occasionally we’d stop to breathe. When we made love, we knew how to forget ourselves. That, I’m convinced, is passion; to kiss him so hard and hold him so hard that the act itself is forgotten and all that is remembered is skin and hair and warmth, that’s a gift. That’s something that we kept for a long, long time. Read the rest of this entry »

This Week’s Biggest Gainers

1 Pat Quinn
The governor won the democratic primary election for Illinois governor. Read the rest of this entry »