Assume the position.

Cupcakes, just got back from a fabulous lunch: chicken parmigana big enough to stretch into two meals and a slice of coconut layer cake at Buttercup Bakeshop, which I managed not to finish.
[Note]: cleaning the plate is a major victory in Cupcake's World. In Germany, when I didn't finish my meal at the Friday evening banquet I was told, "In Germany when you do not clean your plate we say you will bring bad weather tomorrow."

"What do I care what the weather is like here tomorrow? I'll be flying back to New York," I say, playing Ugly American.

"But you will bring rain for us," says baby-faced Martin. (More about sweet middle-school-esque mutual flirtation with older German colleague to follow later. Unless he finds this site). [End note]

So just in case your stomach is as full as mine, I advise you to get out your air-sick bags, forward the phone to voicemail and get ready to hurl. Of course, any young job-seeker in New York knows that the most desirable internships in the city go to the offspring of the wealthy via either direct or indirect means; the only 23-year olds I know who can afford to take an unpaid 40 hr per week internship in New York are getting serious financial aid from B.O.D. (Bank of Dad). Now New York Magazine confirms our worst fears:
"At a recent City Harvest fundraiser, Lot 1 at the silent auction was a semester-long internship at Deutsch Advertising, for which someone forked over $7,000. Then there was Lot 7, a summer internship with Jon Gordon 'currently co-president of production at Miramax' [which sold for $7,500, thanks Dad!]".

What's that? Haven't tossed your cookies yet? Then check out this piece about the convergence of religion, commerce and the aching desire to be hip: The new SoHo Synagogue, opening this fall, will offer "Orthodox services, "Torah cocktails", and organized trips to the Hamptons for Shabbat."

"We call it a boutique synagogue. You might have to RSVP. There might be a roped line. It will totally be a scene. But it's all kosher," reports the 28-year old Rabbi running the joint.

When are the Catholics going to take the hint and start pandering to me? Hello, Pope Bennedict? Can I call you Benny? Look, these Sunday morning services are really putting a cramp in my style, what with those being prime Bruch hours and all. Maybe we could shoot for a Tuesday evening? I could squeeze you in somewhere between Happy Hour and The Office. Thanks.