I re-watched all the episodes of Bored To Death the other night. HBO On Demand is the greatest thing since sliced bread. In one of the episodes it was said that Brooklyn is the new Manhattan and Manhattan is the new Queens. As a person who is splitting his time between the boroughs, I started to ponder this. I attended the Brooklyn birthday party of my model/socialite friend Kayci Ryan Rothweiler. “White trash gear required” the invite said, it was a theme party. I was amazed at how many outfits I had at my disposal.

I wore a black WESC warm-up suit with a razor blade zipper pull, cream-colored patent-leather shoes that looked like plastic from an old Elvis costume, a black and gold Playboy Bunny necklace. I slicked back my hair put on some D&G cologne and talked the talk and walked the walk. My crew landed in Kellogg's Diner. I found it to be wonderful except for the bad food, poor service and atmosphere. In Brooklyn, that’s the charm I guess. Half the scene believes that making an effort is the ultimate insult to the hipster gods they worship. If Moses delivered a tablet to Williamsburg (or is it Greenpoint? Or is it Bushwick? If he landed in Williamsburg it might be so 5 years ago.) Not looking like you are making an effort to be cool would be commandment number one. Commandment number two would say something about not washing your plaid. Number three would say the same thing about the body and so on.

After the cake was washed down with properly indifferent coffee we trekked to Barcade, one of the worst places I have ever tried to find a good time in. The crowd was ugly and their mothers had dressed them funny. The music was boring and played at a level to imitate a mosquito's hum. The place had no redeeming quality, but my crew (save for a distinguished few) loved it. I was so turned off that I opted to leave Kings County for the evening.

We hit up Santos where we finally felt alive. There were all different types of folks partying. In Brooklyn it was just more of the same everywhere. It was the same sad plaid and the hair do's that don’t and wouldn’t even if they could afford to. In trying to be above it all they actually had lost sight of their own individuality. I know this was just a bad night at bad places, but only a very few places in old BK mix it up like, dare I say it, a good Manhattan joint. I love my skee ball and the crew at Full Circle Bar. I think Brooklyn Bowl has more than a few moments and there's a few other joints where conversation and diversity prevail.

We went to Lit to rejoice in its sweet sounds, smells and swill, then trekked to La Esquina for a taco. In full character we entertained the party crowd at GoldBar. PR whiz Steve Kasuba got us non-alcoholic ginger cocktails, which knocked my silk socks off. It was only in Little Italy that my entourage and I looked as if we belonged.

On Sunday I walked my puppies downtown with some special friends. We chatted up Chloe and Andres Serrano and a dozen other bold face names. Everywhere we looked there were fabulous people mixing with the hipsters and all were happy with the promise of spring. The big difference between Manhattan and Brooklyn is the ages of its hip inhabitants. It's younger in the borough and a celebration of commonality in taste and outlook is to be expected. I keep thinking about the quote "Everyone in Brooklyn just seems bored to death," from the show. Though the Manhattan scene has been much maligned lately, the potential is still far greater. Here adults play with the children and being incredibly cool isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Brooklyn seems so much more one-dimensional the more I get to know it.