Upon Discovering That She Had Been Eating Shit From The Trash, Janet Resolved Never Again To Eat At Madeline’s Apartment

The situation for the middle class in Manhattan is much worse than previously thought:

Janet, a high school Spanish teacher, napped after Madeline’s gourmet meal, her body satiated with the comfort of a full stomach.

The lucky ones invited to Madeline’s two-bedroom West Village apartment were served carrot ginger soup, followed by ratatouille (onions, peppers, eggplant, zucchini and tomatoes sautéed in olive oil), organic salad with spinach, roasted baby potatoes and whole wheat bread. Homemade lemonade was the drink and the dessert, frozen banana whipped into sherbet.

The ingredients came from New York’s bountiful streets, actually from trash bags on the sidewalks in front of grocery stores where an hour earlier the food would have sold at full price. The fruits and vegetables, and whatever packaged foods that had reached their expiration date, had been discarded at the end of the stores’ working day. The food is free for the picking during the two-hour magical period, usually from 9 p.m. to 11 p.m. — between closing time and trash pickup time.

Oh My God, It’s Beautiful!

This Valentine’s Day, sign up for the Buckingham Hotel’s $150,000 “Most Romantic Weekend In The Universe” package, hyperbole gladly included:

“Imagine being whisked to New York City on a private jet for a series of remarkable and continually wonderful moments,” said Stephen Shapiro, the Buckingham’s hotelier. “It’s really a dream come true.”

Offered for the first time, the eye-poppingly extravagant package is available on a first-come, first-serve basis.

The lucky couple will be whisked to New York from anywhere in the continental U.S. in their very own G4 jet.

Upon touchdown, a limousine will take the canoodling duo to the hotel as a CD of “The Most Romantic Classical Music in the Universe,” compiled by the Buckingham, plays inside.

After having the most romantic classical music in the universe revealed (in itself priceless!), guests will enjoy The Most Romantic Central Park Horse-Drawn Carriage Ride In The Universe, tall tale-telling* carriage driver included:

The room is a 2,200-square-foot triplex penthouse with a fireplace and a Steinway baby grand piano. The master bedroom has windows on every wall and it opens to a 1,400-square-foot terrace with views of Central Park and beyond.

“In February, it’s a little chilly on the terrace, but if you’re with your sweetheart, perhaps you won’t notice,” said Shapiro.

After the high-spending twosome gets settled, they will be treated to a horse-drawn carriage ride through Central Park. The sunset jaunt will culminate in front of a park bench named in the couple’s honor with an inscribed plaque.

But wait! There’s more:

A candlelit dinner in the room catered by Nobu Fifty Seven is next. Following dinner, a pianist will serenade the couple as they share a champagne toast.

“Imagine that — you don’t even have to put your clothes on,” Shapiro said.

In the morning, the couple will receive a tour of the famously upscale stores along Fifth Ave. After already forking over $150,000, they will finally have their chance to sink even more cash into the city’s economy.

But even if they don’t purchase anything, the tandem won’t be going home empty-handed. They will receive an 18-karat gold lyre charm from Tiffany’s, a $5,000 painting from the Fuller building’s art gallery, two opera glasses from Lincoln Center and a two-CD box set from Carnegie Hall.

No one has signed up yet.

*On the veracity of guides in the tourism industry, see here.

Who Among Us Can Pass Up A $450 Alligator-Trimmed Lunchbox?

The latest:

Rich rugrats across the city will be begging in their Burberry boots for next season’s ultimate fashion accessory — a $450 alligator-trimmed lunchbox.

New York designer Barry Kieselstein-Cord is set to launch a line that includes the costly item and a $550 alligator knapsack that is certain to be the “It” bag for the tween and toddler set.

(The designer imagines that “some mothers will use the lunchbox as a purse,” but if only that were the case, it wouldn’t make it into the Post, would it?)

Forty Miiiillion Dollars . . .

No matter how many times you read about Compensation Day (that’s close to but different from Evacuation Day, which for New Yorkers falls on November 25), when Wall Street year-end bonuses are doled out, it never ceases to amaze me just how much money these fuckers get paid. The bonus pool at Goldman Sachs this year is estimated to be as much as $11 billion — for an average of $500,000 per employee.

This year, New York Magazine takes it one further, explaining the pecking order of bonuses and how every year some at Goldman Sachs actually feel shafted by their package:

In Goldman’s offices around the globe, but especially inside the gilded walls of 85 Broad Street, the annual bonus dance is about to reach its climax. On the day they’re told their numbers, those who are richly rewarded will do their best to contain the feeling that comes along with being $2 million, $10 million, or even $40 million richer. And what of those who get the shaft? “They try to be professional,” says the former EMD [executive managing director]. “Although you can see from their trembling lips or the intensity of their stare that they’re disappointed. They’ll go out to their station, slam a few things down, grab their coat, and walk out. Some of them won’t come back for several days.” At which point, it will nearly be 2006, with the meter running on next year’s bonus.

Look, if you’ve somehow found yourself in a position in life where you’ve made billions speculating on crude oil, then you’re probably worth a $40 million bonus — what’s really impressive here is the money they cough up for just showing up (even if “showing up” means working until 3 or 4 in the morning most nights):

Goldman also pays its supporting cast handsomely. Bankers whose jobs consist merely of pitching the capabilities of other people at the firm can make as much as your average NFL starter. “The amazing thing about Goldman,” says a hedge-fund executive who does business with the firm, “it’s not that a few talented people make $20 million — it’s all the mediocre talents that make over $1 million.”

Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Kindergarten Admissions But Thought It Too Obnoxious To Ask

New York Magazine writes up the eleven things you need to know about Kindergarten admissions. Number 2, whether bribery works:

In a word, no. “Not only will making a big contribution to the kindergarten of your dreams not help you get in, it will hurt you,” warns [private school admissions consultant Amanda] Uhry. The schools don’t appreciate being treated like the maître d’ at Per Se.

And the most selective schools, finding themselves flush with both healthy endowments and negative press over preferential treatment for those who can add extra zeros to donation checks, have put out the word that money doesn’t talk like it once did.

Then again, there are “bribes” and there are ways to make it clear you’re loaded and will be happy to endow facilities and programs when the time comes:

Of course, not all schools are so loftily uninterested in money. “Look at the schools in the Bronx,” says one admissions expert. “With all those acres and buildings, they’re the size of a small college. For them, a $20 million endowment is nothing, so you better believe they’re aware of how much you can give.”

Chapin, for example, makes no bones about its expectations. “Annual Giving makes everything at Chapin possible,” it posts on its Website, listing the gap between tuition and cost ($6,900 per student and growing). The schools, however, can’t come right out and ask what you’ll give. So consider giving to your nursery school. Your pre-K director may remember your generosity at a crucial moment. “That’s definitely one of the topics of conversation, and it doesn’t have to be asked explicitly. Your pre-K director will let the school know,” says one consultant.