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"My brother lives in LA and won’t even walk outside a restaurant with me."

I happened on Milly Beau, the residents at Pete’s Candy Store every Monday this month, by an accident of Lasagnetta. Marybeth Doran, the group’s lead singer was waiting tables at Inoteca while my friend Sarah and I gorged on that restaurant’s veggie lasagna specialty. A few months later I finally made it to Pete’s Candy Store in Williamsburg where, in the romantic dining car that is their back room, Milly Beau’s acoustic set entranced a dozen lucky listeners, and made converts of us all.

Tricks and 'Treats' at a New York peep show

I’ve heard about the Sunday-night blues, and while I’ve ever been affected, should you find yourself down in the dumps on this coming Sabbath, there’s a a cure in the LES at the Parkside Lounge. This week, The Most Fun Show Ever, hosted by Danny Jolles, features one of my favorite young comics on the scene: Becky Ferreira. Here, Becky talks about mallard ducks, Japanese anime and, you know, suicide.

The most exceptional thing about the 18th floor of the Standard, formerly the Boom Boom Room, is that the place looks as gorgeous in the day as it does at night. I can think of few bars, even those in immaculate hotel lobbies, that don’t hold the stench, grime and absence of the night before. But Andre Balazs molten cream couches, muted woods and gentle, reflective surfaces were as welcoming before sunset—when the winners of Benetton’s international “It’s My Time” tiptoed around the press and fashion honchos—as they were long after (when those same models, helped by some Moet champagne, jumped into group shots, hugs, and dancing).

When it comes to young actors, he might be Brooklyn's finest

You wouldn’t know it by looking at it, but an hour after this photo was taken, the one on the right, the cute, quiet-looking guy in the Yankees hat, was jumping around the stage and ranting like a goddamn lunatic. He’s Thomas, lead singer of the Kissaway Trail (the guy on the left is Daniel, one of the band’s many guitarists). Touting their first album, Sleep Mountain, on their first American tour, the group is making some of the most interesting noises of 2010, and gathering a very dedicated following (see the photograph of the tattoo below; the proud owner—and two of her had friends—had it done in Austin, and managed to convince the band’s publicist to pay for them).

Before we get into the xx’s dynamite show at Webster Hall last night, the politics of the band, what they’re listening to, and what they make of all their sudden fame, there’s the news we’ve all been waiting for, straight from singer/bassist Oliver Sim: “There is no new album at the moment. There is no big master plan either. I enjoy touring, but I don’t find it being particular creative at all.”

If I haven’t said it before here (I know I’ve said it pretty much everywhere else), Mercury Lounge is the best place in NYC to see live music. It’s stupid to prejudice music according to a venue (it’s the chef who matters, not the kitchen), but all but a few of the best shows I’ve seen since in New York have taken place there. It could also just say something about my taste in music—Arcade Fire, The Virgins, The Rural Alberta Advantage are among the aforementioned “best”—but there’s something about the intimacy and informality of that room that turns a show into an experience.

I have a favorite scene from The Hills. It takes place at one of the main character’s houses, I forget which one—either Kristin’s or Whitney’s or Lauren’s—regardless, they are having a pool party. One of the girls, again, I’ve forgotten which one, any of the above, or maybe it was Audrina, goes to the front of the house to let in some boys (who are no doubt coming to stir up drama). As she is about to open the front gate, someone runs up and hits her in the face with a shovel.