New Yorkers aren't so bad once you get them out of their clothes.

It is getting warm now, which means I’ll be seeing my fellow tenants without clothes on. And that means we’ll be talking again.

I live in a 40-story co-op on 56th Street, just east of First. Grandly known as Plaza 400, the building has some
1,500 people living in more than 600 apartments. When Memorial Day comes, our rooftop swimming pool opens.

The city’s Department of Health and Mental Hygiene, which keeps track of some truly odd statistics, reports that of the approximately 150 pools in residential buildings in Manhattan, only about 15 are outside. And some of those 15 are in private town houses. Thus, our own rooftop pool is one of only a handful of its kind.

When I moved in, on a September day nine years ago, the pool was already drained for the winter, and our building felt like a house of strangers. I’d walk into the lobby, which is crowned with a Baccarat chandelier, and no one—except for the friendly staff—said hello. In the elevators, I’d timidly smile. Was that a returned smile? Was I being ignored?

Sometimes, I’d leave the elevator and hum the Doors’ “People are Strange.”

And then springtime came. I went up to the pool, and we were all in bathing suits and talking a blue streak. Finally, after almost nine months of living here, my wife, Roz, and I got to know people.

That woman in our gym I see five times a week? She skips rope. Never spoke to her from September to May. Now on the rooftop, as I swim toward the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings, we chat. We’re both wet and mostly exposed.

In a way, we’re all wearing uniforms, just like our building staff. They tell me that when they’re leaving for the day, and are dressed in jeans and a polo shirt and have on a backpack, no one says hello. They are not recognized outside of their uniforms.

When we’re lucky enough to have our Florida grandchildren visit, we impress them with our pool. They also like the neighborhood, and we take them for walks. Recently, we were strolling down East 55th Street, and there was Larry David filming a Curb Your Enthusiasm segment. The kids knew who he was. Hmm, I wondered, do I say hello to this guy who thinks everyone’s a jerk? This was one of those moments when you think, what can you say to him without sounding stupid? Especially to Larry David. So I simply said hi and introduced him to my granddaughter Alexa.

“Very nice,” he said.

Then I introduced him to my grandson Jordan.

“Very nice,” he said again.

Now, when my family wants to make fun of me, they say those two words—“very nice”—and I’m reminded how much of a putz I must have seemed to Larry David. Loyal Curb viewers will surely recall the episode in which LD spotted his therapist wearing a thong at the beach and of course had to fire him at once.

Maybe it would have been different if he had been at my pool, in just a bathing suit, not covered up. We would have connected on a more human level.

A rooftop pool in the city with 40, 50, 60 people sitting around it—it’s an anomaly. Consider that this is the town a million people come into every day. All strangers to one another. You can be standing next to someone on the subway for 40 minutes and not say a word to him. But drop your pants, take off your shirt, and now you’re discussing the Mets or The Great Gatsby or the weather.

Being half undressed in the naked city makes for better neighbors. Really, it’s very nice.

A Case of Redemption

Adam Mitzner is a lawyer by day and a writer of legal thrillers by night—no small feat. A Case of Redemption, Mr. Mitzner’s second novel in just two years (the first was A Conflict of Interest), follows the path of Dan Sorenson, a fallen-from-grace defense attorney who may or may not find redemption in taking on the case of his career—a high-profile murder trial involving an upstart rapper. Mr. Mitzner is based in New York, and so is this noirish tale, which is sure to keep you riveted from start to finish. —Matthew Kassel

Nine Lives: A Chef’s Journey from Chaos to Control
By Brandon Baltzley
(Gotham Books, 288 pp., $26)

With the publication of Nine Lives: A Chef’s Journey from Chaos to Control, Brandon Baltzley joins the ranks of culinary badasses like Anthony Bourdain and Gordon Ramsay. In this bare-all memoir, Mr. Baltzley, a Louisiana-born chef and former heavy metal drummer, details his drug-addicted path to culinary fame. Mr. Baltzley—the founder of CRUX, “a nomadic culinary collective,” and TMIP Restaurant—is now in recovery, as the book’s title suggests. Watch out for this old-souled 28-year-old. He’s just getting started. —Matthew Kassel

No One Could Have Guessed the Weather
By Anne-Marie Casey
(Amy Einhorn Books, 288 pp., $25.95)

No One Could Have Guessed the Weather is a sliding puzzle of a book, where all the characters move around in the well-traveled space between school drop-off, unhappy Manhattan apartments, and hands-off mothers who learn to love their children. We meet Lucy first, and like her best. She was once a posh London wife and has moved to New York with her family to start over. She befriends high-strung TV producer Julia, lithe Christy, so slim after twins that another mother fantasizes about killing her, and Robyn, married to one of the many “kidults” slouching towards divorce. Guess which one of them is married to an old rich guy? Correct! It’s a quick, breezy read, but in the end you really wish Lucy had been the only one you met. —Rebecca Kurson

The Civil War in 50 Objects
By Harold Holzer
(Viking, 416 pp., $36)

The Civil War in 50 Objects, is a collection of deeply researched essays by the Lincoln scholar Harold Holzer. Mr. Holzer examines war-era artifacts culled from the collection at the New-York Historical Society, where he is a Roger Hertog Fellow, to get at a deeper truth about the single most defining event in American history. “I suspected it could help to punctuate or perhaps illustrate the Civil War story,” Mr. Holzer writes of the collection, which includes seemingly quotidian things like an entry ticket for the New York Metropolitan Fair and a bible used at a “colored” orphan asylum, “but I quickly discovered how beautiful and completely it can actually tell that story.” —Matthew Kassel

“If you step away from any [Pinot Grigio] that says ‘Veneto,’ you’ve already increased the quality,” offers Jim Clarke, the wine director at New York’s Armani restaurant. True enough: Thanks to some bulk producers who churn out rivers of uninspired, golden-hued juice, Pinot Grigio has been flooding the market for years, turning a respectable grape into, at best, insipid and unmemorable vino.  “It’s the most over-cropped, over-produced wine on the market, but it’s just a shadow of what the grape can do,” says Tony DiDio of New York wine brand management firm TDS. “Instead of seeing serious wines for pairing, we see a lot of simple quaffing wines.”

To really understand the charms and grace of which Pinot Grigio is capable, turn your attention to the northwesterly climes of Italy’s Alto Adige region, where evidence of grape-growing dates back to 500 B.C. It is in this Alps-rimmed region (where you’re far more likely to be greeted with a hearty “Guten tag!” than “Buon giorno!,” as 70 percent of the population here speaks German) that you will find outstanding examples of what Pinot Grigio can and should be. Among the region’s 13,100 acres of vines (for perspective, that’s merely a third of the entire of Napa), nearly 60 percent are devoted to white grapes, with Pinot Grigio topping production in that arena.

When done well, Pinot Grigio is not only incredibly pleasing to the nose, but in a place like Alto Adige, it also expresses itself on the palate with gorgeous fruit, spice, great acidity (from the nose-bleed seats where it’s typically planted) and minerality from the limestone and slate-based soils. And with interesting, outside-the-box thinking—like adding a little skin contact from this rosy-skinned grape varietal (it’s not uncommon for the current darling of wine geekdom, “orange” wines, to be made from PG, gaining a pretty copper-tinged hue from time spent fermenting on the skins), fermenting in the barrel and aging in oak—there are many interesting expressions out there that more than deserve your cork-popping attention.

Summer Sips:

2011 Kaltern Caldaro Pinot Grigio Söll
About 20 percent of the juice of this super-interesting, single-vineyard Pinot Grigio spends a little time in used oak, and with a hue that reminds one a little bit of rose gold, it wouldn’t be surprising if it also saw a little contact as well. Pretty floral nose, with mouth-filling flavors of pear, Juicy Fruit gum (in a good way!), as well as a hint of white pepper and sweet spice.

2012 Peter Zemmer Pinot Grigio
The affable Peter Zemmer is the third generation of his family (his grandfather kicked things off in 1928) to head up their estate-grown offerings. The PG here grows at around 500 feet above sea level, digging deep into the rocky soil, which adds a minerally edge to the apple and pink grapefruit notes in this zingy offering from an outstanding producer.

2011 Nals Margreid Punggle Pinot Grigio
The label reads 13% percent ABV, but you’d never know it given how refreshing and balanced this wine is, thanks in no small part to its great acidity. Expect a nose full of dill and white grapefruit, with pretty notes of apples, and a finish reminiscent of pine resin.

2012 Terlano Pinot Grigio
If Terlano can’t make a white wine lover out of you, nobody can. Known for aging their whites, this PG offers ripe apples and grapefruit on the nose and palate, with bits of spice, too, and a slightly, pleasingly unctuous texture that is propped up by a great, vibrating dose of acidity.

2012 Weingut Castel Sallegg “Pulvernai”
Full and fleshy, with aromas and flavors of pear, pink grapefruit, and flowers, this wine takes an interesting turn on the palate toward rose candy and tangerine, and a good dose of snappy minerality.

2011 Castelfeder Pinot Grigio
With aromas of rose and orangeflower water, this cheerful white is bright and juicy on the palate, with lots of full, ripe apple notes and spice, and a devilishly unctuous finish

Amy Zavatto is the deputy editor of Edible Manhattan and Edible Brooklyn magazines, as well as a contributing writer for Grapecollective, an online wine magazine launching in the summer.

editorial@observer.com

Christian Roth

Dressing for summer events can present a particular challenge for New York men, especially if they are used to relying on the brothers Brooks for the daily armor of business life.

Soupy summer weather, when humidity and the thermometer both top 80, does not afford menfolk comfortable options like strappy sandals or a cooling sun frock. Instead, they find themselves locked into the familiar summer wardrobe of the East End roué: sockless loafers, shapeless Nantucket red shorts, and maybe a blazer with jaunty gold buttons over a sternum-baring dress shirt. Lobster belt optional.

Montgomery Frazier, known professionally as the “Image Guru,” helps men on the social circuit avoid looking like they dressed out of the Hampton Jitney lost-and-found box. In his 30-year career, he has worked with entertainment and fashion clients from MTV, Madonna and Katie Couric to David LaChapelle, Mario Testino and Patrick DeMarchelier.

His tips for dressing this season: “Don’t be afraid to wear vibrant colors, color blocked pieces, textural fabrics, or interesting and different silhouettes and patterns. Men’s accessories are also on the rise, from neckerchiefs to walking sticks. Just look to trend movies like The Great Gatsby for looks that even the most conservative dresser can choose from.”

Here, Mr. Frazier puts together wardrobes guaranteed to pop for three summer social situations.

Thom Browne

POLO MATCH

As a spectator experience, Bridgehampton polo has its pluses and minuses. There’s usually a fair bit of mud underfoot and less than ideal bathroom arrangements, with a breathable atmosphere of status anxiety that can feel like being locked in Downton Abbey with the gas on.

On the upside are free-flowing Champagne, ample opportunities for social climbing and the spectacle of sweaty Argentine polo bums changing their shirts between chukkas. On balance, it’s a win.

“I would build an outfit around a wonderful Thom Browne green madras checked prep school blazer, which is lightweight enough for being out in the hot sun at a polo match,” says Mr. Frazier. “Then I’d put it with a pair of Thom Browne grey whale pleated shorts, so your legs can also tan whilst you’re baking in the hot sun.”

Mr. Frazier recommends Thom Browne white and grey nubuck suede brogues “to butch up that schoolboy look.” And since Bridgehampton in July and August is invariably steaming with humidity, “add a cotton madras neckerchief from Ralph Lauren to soak up your sweat, and a pink cotton madras pocket scarf from Peter Elliot.”

“The last Thom Browne item would be some hugely cool matte grey Wayfarer glasses,” he says. “I’d heavily splash on Gendarme men’s fragrance, which smells so fresh and clean, and throw on a straw hat!”

Etro

HAMPTONS POOL PARTY

The Hamptons parties of your imagination are lavishly catered, attractively deejayed, and have a long enough lawn that the mansion doesn’t cast its shadow on the pool until after 6 p.m. The ones you’re actually invited to feature red Solo cups and a hostess in a leopard-print beach-wrap who’s snockered by three o’clock. Still, that doesn’t mean you can’t dress up.

“Pool parties should only be attended by people who actually wouldn’t mind getting wet,” says Mr. Frazier. “This kind of ‘I’m gonna jump or get pushed into the pool with my clothes on’ kind of party requires an outfit that’s quirky and fun.”

From the Etro Spring/Summer 2013 collection, Mr. Frazier selects the “Long Island” paisley nylon swim shorts (John Bartlett scarf optional), paired with  sensible rubber shoes with perforated holes from either Native or Cole Haan, available in a myriad of colors. “Finish off the look with some Christian Roth eyewear—preferably clear tinted frames, to complement your coordinated color scheme. Select the appropriate Anne Moore hat, throw on some lavender fragrance from L’Herbologica, which I believe is available at The Bathroom in the West Village, and you’re good to sink or swim!”

EVENING WEDDING

Gucci

At some weddings, the only visible color is on the bridesmaids, whose palette can resemble the display case at a Baskin-Robbins. Last year I attended one such extravaganza with a dozen ladies whose coordinated pastel outfits made the event look like a Lawrence Welk reunion.

“As a die-hard peacock, color is what makes me happy,” says Mr. Frazier. “I love the limoncello-colored two-button blazer from Ferragamo men’s Spring/Summer 2013. I would build an outfit around the color scheme of limoncello yellow and black or midnight blue for evening wedding, but I would select a lovely pair of crisp white slacks from one of my newest favorite fashion retailers, Joe Fresh, because their lightweight pants fit like a dream and the prices won’t break the bank, since you just spent around $1,400 on the Ferragamo jacket.”

“I’d  match a crewneck sweater, also from Joe Fresh (they have the purest, brightest color dyes there),  add a crisp white shirt from Brooks Brothers, tuck in the sweater (à la Gatsby) and opt for a black or midnight blue satin tie from Gucci,” he says.

The black patent leather evening shoes should come from Donald J. Pliner, with a white cotton pocket scarf from Dunhill and a black patent leather belt from Ralph Lauren. And for the bling, “black diamond cuff links with a matching black diamond ring from David Yurman,” Mr. Frazier suggests.

“Splash on some Donna Karan Chaos fragrance, and I’d be all set to part-eee and/or weep with the rest of the guests.”

editorial@observer.com

Uggie the dog would totally be into frozen treats. (Getty Images)

NYC's spoiled pets are getting their own frozen yogurt truck in Central Park.

Yappy Treats, run by dog-lover Laura Diaz, will offer appetizing flavors, such as tuna, and will open this weekend at dog-hot-spots. The West 72nd Street dog park, Mariner's Playground and at West 84th Street and Central Park West will all have them.

The truck is looking to cash in on Manhattan's legion of pet owners, who will do anything for their four-legged loves. Dog massages and even tattoos are normal on the island.

The extent that owners will go to keep their mutts happy even inspired a TV show, Spoiled Rotten Pets, on Nat Geo Wild last month, including footage of people performing dog weddings.

"It definitely is a new concept. Very few people have seen [a dog ice cream cart]," Ms. Diaz said in an interview with DNAinfo.com. 

Probably because dogs have managed thousands of years without frozen yogurt until now.

Click through our slideshow for an illustrated tour through Alec's August, or click here for a large image.

Additional research by Jonah Wolf and Toby Wareham. Illustrations by Amy Melson.

Douglas.

Is there anything more beautiful than feeling the cool air of fall start to kick back up? Then again, is there anything more depressing than coming to realize in the very same moment that summer has nearly passed? Sure, we’ve spent these waning days of late July and early August complaining about the heat, but who ever wants to contemplate seasonal change? What did we really do with our summer, after all?

Well, for starters, we were introduced to a few new people making a name for themselves in London. The Games of the XXX Olympiad, as they are officially known, brought us, among others, Gabby Douglas, that high-flying 16-year-old who managed to defy gravity and, perhaps more impressively, take our minds off the swimmers for a moment. She won’t be going anywhere soon—as long as we’re eating our Corn Flakes. But it does appear that Bob Costas needed a time-out. Why else would NBC leave him locked all alone in a room, while
everyone else on the NBC team was out on the town?

There was plenty happening stateside as well. It seems that when certain people say “I’ll be back,” they mean it—like the Terminator himself, who has reinvented his career once more. The former governor is now Professor Arnold Schwarzenegger, of the University of Southern California. There he’ll sit on the board of advisors at the Schwarzenegger Institute for State and Global Policy. He’ll also be the Governor Downey Professor of State and Global Policy at his shiny new think tank. Things are looking on the up for the body-builder-turned-actor-turned-politico-turned-tabloid-fodder. He might have been able to resurrect his career, but let’s face it, Total Recall is past saving after Colin Farrell’s clunker of a remake left us in desperate search for our own memory-alteration apparatus.

Speaking of Hollywoodland, there was a whole lotta hubbub when Twilight stars Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart—long rumored to be a couple—were officially deemed an item through news of their very publicized breakup, after Ms. Stewart was caught lip-locking with her married Snow White and the Huntsman director, Rupert Sanders. Though the “trampire”—as she was dubbed by Will Ferrell—seems to be on her way out of the public’s fair graces, we still have Natalie Portman, whose “official” wedding to Benjamin Millepied, with whom she is raising a son, Aleph, was perfect. The ceremony was Jewish and vegan, which takes care of all those pesky kosher issues.

On the smaller screen, Mariah Carey will be joining American Idol to replace Steven Tyler—and there is a slight possibility that Nick Jonas may join the panel as well. Sharon Osbourne is leaving America’s Got Talent, while her son, Jack Osbourne, was dropped from the Dick Wolf reality show contest about being in the military, Stars Earn Stripes. And finally, we were reminded that a Housewife by any other name is still a Housewife, after the big season shake-up left us with a bunch of new women and a bunch of the same drama. Ramona Singer versus Heather Thompson? Déjà vu, anyone?

But what did we learn this summer? That we haven’t learned anything at all.

Suzuki. (Otto Greule Jr/Getty Images)

It’s time for us to escape the muggy, soup-like weather of New York, where we’re all the more conscious of the fact that with every breath, we are inhaling someone else’s recycled air. Oh mighty Mayor Bloomberg, deliver us from damnation! Or at least from this city’s cursed summer months. If we can eliminate transfats, why not the heat?

Of course, a clever individual might just pack their bags and head for a different climate completely. Take Jeremy Lin, who—with the ever-helpful hand of fan favorite Jim Dolan—may have realized it’s not the heat, but the humidity, when he signed on with the Houston Rockets. But that doesn’t mean New York isn’t without its own acquisitions: The Yankees picked up one of the greatest hitters of all time in Ichiro Suzuki (who’s looking a little grayer these days—distinguished, we say), Rick Rash for the Rangers, Jeff Otah for the Jets and possibly English Premier League veteran Tim Cahill for the Red Bulls. Welcome to town, boys. We hope your managers set you up in an apartment with central air.

Meanwhile, the rest of us just can’t wait to escape from New York, be it by plane, train or Jitney-mobile. Sure, getting stuck in traffic can make the drive to and from the Hamptons all the more fun, but if you live in Brooklyn, you may be in luck. A new ferry traveling between Greenpoint (it sets sail from Mitchell Park) and Sag Harbor is being christened the new Water Jitney, which raises only one question: Can we have a nice afternoon drink on it? (Scotch, neat.) If not, we’ll just stick to the LIRR, thank you very much.

We were also thinking about heading to Los Angeles for a quick break from the heat, but it’s not much better over there. What if we run into Lindsay Lohan or Tara Reid, which the weather has seemed to resurrect like ghosts from 2003? Ms. Reid was hospitalized in France with acute pancreatitis, which probably has nothing to do with all those horrific stomach surgeries (and corrections to said surgeries) she endured back in the early-to-mid-aughts. Ms. Lohan finished production on her made-for-TV movie about Elizabeth Taylor, Liz & Dick, and miraculously found a new job opposite porn star James Deen in Bret Easton Ellis and Paul Schrader’s new Kickstarter-funded film, The Canyons. Talk about a comeback through the back door. Not that Mr. Ellis doesn’t have problems of his own: primarily the unadulterated Nikki Finke experience. The Deadline Hollywood editor-in-chief is out to ruin the American Psycho author after he tweeted that he lived in the same building as the reclusive blogger. Now ICM, the agency that represents Mr. Ellis, has been forced to call in the big guns—litigation lawyers Howard Weitzman and Lawrence Iser—to protect their employees against the onslaught from the relentless Ms. Finke. (For our own purposes: How many emails in a 24 hour time frame constitute harassment?)

Some advice? Steer clear of L.A. until the bloodshed is over: you don’t want to be caught between these two. There’s also the possibility that you might end up sitting next to Fred Willard at Arclight—and that would just be awkward.

Stay out of this.

There were heat advisories or warnings in 20 states on Sunday, with temperatures reaching over 100 degrees across most of the South. Adding to the misery were power outages caused by the huge storm that rampaged from Ohio through parts of the Northeast on Friday, killing 12 and leaving some metropolitan areas with long-standing power outages caused by high wind and lightning.

Larger cities are opening cooling centers for residents without air conditioning or power. New York City is under a heat advisory, with an expected high of 94. The heat wave may come at a particularly bad time for New York as Con Edison is negotiating contracts with its employees--the power grid may see unusually heavy demand but fewer workers available to answer the call if an outage occurs.

The general advice for anyone coping directly with the heat is to avoid heavy activity and take frequent breaks in a cooler environment if you have to be out in the heat.

CNN  and the National Climactic Data Center report records for "nearly 1600 high temperatures" have been broken in the last week alone.

I'll Have Another washing off for the big show.

It’s June, and yet we’re still wearing our London Fog raincoats and carrying around our Brollys. It’s almost as if New York’s weather gods didn’t get the memo that it’s Hamptons season, and some of us don’t like getting soaked waiting for the Jitney.

Another thing seasonal annoyance for New Yorkers is traffic created by out-of-towners, and this week’s double-whammy of President Barack Obama’s visit on Monday and that of his wife, Michelle Obama, later this week has the city grumbling about how to get crosstown. A little respect for our POTUS? Not during 6 p.m. rush hour, darling. Your cab ride will end up costing you more than a private trip on Air Force One.

Of course the sniping about this dilemma was the loudest—where else—at Serafina, during a party for Ramona Singer and Sonja Morgan. This week was the premiere of the fifth season of The Real Housewives of New York City, and after several tours around the charity circuit, we’re inclined to believe that these ladies might be offering us the most “real” reality television on offer, which is to say that there are is a vast amount of white wine spilled in their wake, no matter what the occasion. Now that the show has Aviva Drescher, Heather Thompson and Caroline Radziwill, the claws have come out: Ms. Drescher has one leg! Ms. Thompson talks too much! Ms. Radziwill is a Kennedy by marriage! This can only foretell tragedy and pathos. We can almost hear Andy Cohen gleefully rubbing his hands together and laughing.

Speaking of ladies on bad behavior, Gwyneth Paltrow, that shining beacon of all that is good and urbane in the world, managed to slip the n-word into a tweet yesterday. Just confirming our suspicions that celebrities shouldn’t tweet without running it by their publicity team first, Ms. Paltrow put up a picture of Jay-Z and Kanye West performing in France under the caption “Ni**as in paris for real.” Ms. Paltrow was somewhat saved by record producer The Dream tweeting from his personal account that he was the one who had made the inflammatory remark from Ms. Paltrow’s phone. That’s why friends don’t let friends tweet for them! Or another possible lesson: Don’t tweet out the names of songs that have the n-word in them, even if you think you are being complimentary. Perhaps she believed she had immunity from racial slur blowback because she happens to be making an album with her “good friend” Jay-Z. But we don’t think it works that way.

But one thing this week we won’t be complaining about: the Belmont Stakes, where I’ll Have Another will attempt to become the first Triple Crown winner since the late ’70s. After winning the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness, I’ll Have Another is on course to become the next Seabiscuit. Or perhaps SeaTriscuit, since this chestnut horse has lower doses of sodium and at least half the calorie count as the original. Of course, you never know what goes into these horses ... especially right before the races. (Something that HBO’s Luck tried to expose in its drama about horse racing before it fell victim to a severe case of dramatic irony and was shut down over the mistreatment and death of at least of three its own horses.) I’ll Have Another’s trainer, Doug O’Neill, has been found guilty of drugging his horses with carbon dioxide in 2010, and he’ll be facing a 45-day suspension from the racetracks. But of course, this won’t go into effect until after the Belmont.

On the other hand, I’ll Have Another’s jockey, Mario Gutierrez, is a real underdog hero, the type Hollywood and Stephen Spielberg would love to get their hands on. Starting as a jockey in Mexico City, Mr. Gutierrez made his way up to Vancouver, winning titles for racing along the way. His first reaction to seeing his champion partner? Well, that varies. He’s told the BBC, “From the first time I met him, I knew he was the one.” Other stories have the introduction less glamorous, with Mr. Gutierrez saying, “I don’t even know who that horse is, but he’s a freak.”
Harsh words, Mr. Gutierrez. Maybe you should audition for next season of Real Housewives?