'Hamilton' And Funny Face Bakery Announce Cookie Collab
(Feel old yet? I do. 🫠)
You also probably know Funny Face Bakery. The New York City-based bakery frequently goes viral for its pop culture-inspired cookie drops based on everything from White Lotus moments to Kardashian memes. Not for nothing: their gooey chocolate chip cookie frequently pops up on social media rankings and reviews of the best chocolate chip cookies in NYC.
Well, folks, it looks like history has its eyes on your cookie jar. As a nod to the legendary musical's achievement, Funny Face just dropped a limited-edition trio of cookies that'll put a smile on the face of any theater kid — or theater kid at heart.
First, there are the two decorated cookies: The King George cookie ($14)...
...and the Schuyler sisters cookie ($14). Both are classic sugar cookies, decorated with royal icing.
Finally, there's their "gooey" option, called Hamilton's Temptation ($6.50), which is a black-and-gold twist on the bakery's beloved Rainbow Crumbfetti cookie.
"As a New York City-born bakery, collaborating with Hamilton feels incredibly full circle," said the founder of Funny Face Bakery, Sarah Silverman. "We're all about bringing joy through nostalgia and pop culture, and few things feel more quintessentially NYC than Hamilton."
You can snag them in-store at either of Funny Face's NYC shops (located in NoHo or the Seaport), or order online for nationwide shipping. These limited-editions treats won't last forever either — unlike Hamilton, which I fully expect to outlive us all at this point.
To cook thousands of recipes from the comfort of your own phone, download the free Tasty app for iOS and Android!
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Yahoo
8 minutes ago
- Yahoo
One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity
They met in a Brooklyn theater nearly two decades ago — an audition, a role, a spark of camaraderie. Jonathan Gregg was a fresh face in New York City, auditioning for a production of Six Degrees of Separation. Tom Felix was the director. The two hit it off immediately: witty banter, creative chemistry, and, yes, a little bit of undeniable mutual attraction. Keep up with the latest in + news and politics. 'I thought he was super hot and just wanted to keep him around,' Felix, who is gay, admits now, grinning, with Gregg, who is straight, laughing in the Zoom window beside him during their interview with The Advocate. But the friendship that followed, spanning city apartments, career pivots, marriages, late-night texts, vacations, and barbecues, grew into something beyond flirtation or creative synergy. It became family. Sunday, on International Friendship Day, they're not just celebrating a nearly 20-year bond; they're putting it under a mic. Their new podcast, No Homo with Jonathan and Tom, is a weekly riff on life, masculinity, queerness, parenting, politics, and everything in between. 'Two best friends, one straight, one gay,' as they like to say, 'gassing each other up as the world burns.' Behind the riffs and running gags is something quieter and more binding: a friendship that's teaching listeners how expansive masculinity can be. Related: L Word alums Leisha Hailey and Kate Moennig wrote the book on queer Opposites, but alike Gregg, 43, lives in Queens with his wife and two young kids. He now works as director of operations for a spirits portfolio—think bourbon, vodka, rum, ready-to-drinks. He's magnetic, unapologetic, and often the louder of the two. He's also a popular social media influencer: 127,000 followers on TikTok, 140,000 on Instagram, and counting. Gregg grew up in northern Alabama, in what he calls a 'sheltered, conservative' environment shaped by church life and Southern Baptist teachings. At the time, he considered his church progressive. His pastor had once refused to join a denomination-wide boycott of Disney over the company's perceived LGBTQ+ support. 'I thought of my church as a relatively progressive place,' he said, though in hindsight, he recognizes how narrow that bar was. Still, the experience stuck with him. 'Why would you cut out something in your life because they're being kind to a group of people?' he asked. As he left Alabama, first for Nashville and then New York, the distance made clear how insular his upbringing had been and how much space there was to grow. 'Exposure is the antidote to hate and fear,' he said. 'Knowing people, not being scared to know people, that's it.' Felix, 46, is quieter and more careful. A former theater director and television development exec, he now works in corporate communications and lives nearby in Astoria with his fiancé, Naquan, and their kittens, Fish and Chips. He's the one who overthinks. Felix grew up in a working-class Catholic household in central Connecticut, where he says it took time to make peace with being gay. By junior year of high school, he had come out to himself. By senior year, he was quietly living a double life, closeted at school, where he was prom king and class president, but beginning to explore his sexuality through community theater. 'I was ready to be gay,' he said. 'I just wasn't ready to mess with everything else.' He waited until college to come out to others, on his very first night in New York, sitting in a diner with a group of fellow freshmen. When someone asked if he was gay, he set down his grilled cheese and said, for the first time out loud, 'Yes. I'm gay.' Coming out to family and hometown friends took longer. And the bullying he endured as a kid, taunts for doing theater, not playing sports, still lingers in memory. 'It was something I dealt with all through high school,' he said. Both men exude strong 'daddy vibes,' physically muscular, emotionally available, and unmistakably at ease in their own skin. They've shared bedrooms, wedding aisles, and dance floors. And when they hit the right party, Gregg sheds his shirt beside Felix in a sea of sweaty, writhing men. 'He's come with me to a Rekt party or a Honey Dijon party,' Felix says. 'I wouldn't necessarily call them circuit, but definitely like a gay tech house party.' Their rhythms may differ, but the friendship is seamless. Felix officiated at Gregg's wedding. When Felix and Naquan get married next year, Gregg will return the favor. 'We've had some really strange and exciting experiences together,' Felix says. 'And I just think there's such a long history now… I trust him completely.' Asked if the relationship has ever crossed into romantic or sexual territory, both are disarmingly candid. 'Tom has made the most convincing arguments to be with a man I've ever heard,' Gregg jokes. 'But I'm in a committed monogamous marriage. And I'm straight. Tom knows that. And he respects it.' Felix, without missing a beat: 'And I'm still trying.' Paint your nails, punch Nazis Their closeness has shaped Gregg's public persona, too. Through the Trump years, he coined a slogan, 'Paint Your Nails, Punch Nazis,' that went viral and stuck. Now it's on T-shirts, stickers, and plenty of merch. The phrase grew out of lived experience. Bullied as a kid, Gregg bulked up and leaned into hypermasculinity as protection. Later, when his son asked to paint his nails, Gregg painted his too — and kept going. Tom Felix (left) and Jonathan Gregg at a costume Jonathan Gregg & Tom Felix (provided) 'My wife and I always wanted to buck gender norms,' he says. 'When our son was born, we made pink tank tops that said, 'It's a boy' on the front, and 'Gender norms are for the weak' on the back.' It wasn't about rebellion. It was about modeling freedom. 'Even if my son never paints his nails again,' Gregg says, 'he'll remember that a masculine man in his life did. That's powerful.' He and Felix have made that kind of modeling part of the show, silly, serious, or somewhere in between. Building a friendship and a show while reclaiming "no homo" The podcast was years in the making. They'd joked about it forever. But the 2024 election, and the political darkness that followed, finally gave them the push. 'I was just tired of screaming into my phone,' Felix says. 'I wanted to use my voice for something more.' So they hit record. Then they did it again. And again. The format is loose: a weekly check-in, some current events, a few personal revelations, and always—always—a vibe. No Homo launched in late June. New episodes drop every Thursday. As of this week, six have aired, and the show is already finding its footing. Last weekend, Felix was recognized for the first time at The Cock, the legendary gay bar on Manhattan's Lower East Side. 'Are you the guy from the podcast?' a man named Dan from Albuquerque, New Mexico, asked. 'I'll always have The Cock,' Felix joked on the show. Dan also passed on a compliment for Gregg: 'If you flutter your eyelashes fast enough, he thinks you just might float away.' Before they ever pressed record, the name sparked debate. No Homo was originally coined as a reflexive disclaimer, a way for straight men to distance themselves from anything that might be perceived as gay. The phrase exploded in the 1990s and early 2000s hip-hop, where artists used it to assert dominance, affirm heterosexuality, or preempt ridicule after saying anything remotely affectionate. It was defensive, insecure, and often deeply homophobic. Gregg and Felix know all that. And they named their show No Homo anyway. 'We wanted to hold a mirror to the absurdity of it,' Felix says. 'The phrase itself is so rooted in anxiety, about gender, about orientation, about being perceived. And we wanted to flip it.' 'It's the dumbest, most hilarious thing straight men ever came up with,' Gregg adds. 'And now here we are, one straight, one gay, saying, yeah, no homo, and also all the homo. Deal with it.' The title is provocative by design. But it's not empty provocation. It's about subversion, about confronting cultural discomfort with male closeness. By reclaiming the phrase, they're turning its original anxiety on its head, and replacing it with something grounded, funny, and emotionally honest. 'We're in on the joke,' Felix says. 'But we're also dead serious about it.' Jonathan Gregg (left) and Tom Jonathan Gregg & Tom Felix (provided) In the sixth episode, Gregg shared a message from a listener, what he jokingly called a 'no-homer slash bromo,' who'd reached out to a gay friend after hearing their ongoing conversations about friendship and flirtation. The straight man asked: 'Do you find me attractive?' The friend said yes, but explained that because the man was married, he hadn't said anything before. 'It made him feel really good,' Gregg said. 'And frankly, it's kind of always been in the back of my mind — that's the best service we can offer from this podcast.' 'There is a male loneliness epidemic in the country,' he added. 'There's a void of love from men—how they experience it, how they accept it, how they show it. And I'm telling you, there would be less of a loneliness issue if you just make some gay friends and let 'em flirt with you. It's the best you're ever going to feel.' A May 2025 Gallup poll found that 25 percent of American men ages 15 to 34 reported feeling lonely 'a lot' of the previous day, more than young men in 35 other high-income democratic countries. In the U.S., young men are significantly lonelier than both young women and older adults. Experts link the crisis to long-standing cultural norms that discourage boys from expressing vulnerability, often leaving them emotionally isolated. 'There are some ways to feel a little better,' Felix added. Gregg didn't miss a beat: 'If you and your gay friend decide you want to go down that path, that's totally cool too. And if you don't, then take the flirting, take the compliments, take the gas up, and know that they'll probably give you a really good blowjob if you want it.' 'I did try to grab his dick on my 30th birthday,' Felix admitted in his Advocate interview. 'That's true. But I was being a real tease,' Gregg chimed in. 'So even I can forgive that one.' But was it no homo or was it homo? 'Yeah, it was no homo,' Gregg said. 'It might've been after the fact. It might have no homoed after the fact.' Gregg and Felix aren't trying to be icons. They're just trying to be honest. To show what friendship can look like when men stop fearing softness, stop fearing each other. 'If more straight men had gay best friends,' Gregg says, 'the world would be a better place. Period.' He's not wrong. Happy International Friendship Day. Catch below. - YouTube This article originally appeared on Advocate: One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity Solve the daily Crossword
Condé Nast Traveler
an hour ago
- Condé Nast Traveler
A Gilded Age Guide to New York and Newport
Watching this season of The Gilded Age and want to live for a moment within that show's world? It's not difficult to understand your desire. During the late-19th-century period depicted, New York City and Newport alike were grand, blank canvases upon which the wealthy were able to erect massive and splendiferous testaments to their liquidity. It wasn't all roses, by any means—the wives approached the Newport summer season with more rigor than their husbands had for business dealings, and divorcées like poor Aurora Fane were socially destitute despite no wrongdoing on their part. (Which is why it's more fun to visit today.) Below, we've rounded up the best hotels in both New York City and Newport to get your Bertha Russell on and steep in the period's left-behind grandeur, plus some of the places you'd do well to visit during your sojourn to go even deeper. New York City Where to stay Lotte New York Palace The Lotte New York Palace made its mark on impressionable viewers when it served as a frequent hangout for the entitled characters of Gossip Girl on TV, but its history catering to New York's elite stretches back to 1882, when six neoclassical style townhouses were first erected with a courtyard that faced out to Madison Avenue. These historic buildings were annexed to a 55-story hotel tower in 1974 by hotelier Harry Helmsley, and the property has been pampering guests ever since. Today's incarnation of the hotel features gorgeous, luxury guest rooms with up close and personal views of St. Patrick's Cathedral, along with a separate hotel-within-a-hotel called The Towers, which offers more space, better views, and personal butlers. The hotel also has two restaurants and four bars, including one named Trouble's Trust (after Leona Helmsley, AKA the Queen of Mean's dog). —Juliana Shallcross Book Now Powered By: Expedia Book Now Powered By: The Fifth Avenue Hotel Modern master Martin Brudnizki's Fifth Avenue riot of colors, patterns, and curiosities is perhaps his most impeccably orchestrated yet. The vaulted lobby is dressed up in ornate wall panels; corridors are bedecked in vivid wallpapers; rooms are filled with painted screens and pagoda-style lamps that are an ode to the travels of hotel owner Alex Ohebshalom. A go-for-broke assemblage of art, from old-world oils to modern photography, greets you around every corner. It's the bold palette Brudnizki is known for, a dreamlike pastiche that would have been chaos in the hands of a less practiced hand. Just as adept is the hospitality, which extends from the ready-to-please butler service on every floor to extra touches like the candle that's slipped into your room after you've complimented the scent in the lobby, a martini cart that appears at your door when you need a nightcap, and the warm welcome you'll get when you return. And you will return, even if just for a perfect Negroni at the hotel's Portrait Bar or an extravagant dish from Café Carmellini—but most of all, for the chance to wake up in a giant cabinet of curiosities in the heart of New York's NoMad district. —Arati Menon Book Now Powered By: Expedia Book Now Powered By: The best things to do Quite a few Gilded Age mansions remain on Fifth Avenue, which once bore the mantle of Millionaire's Row (Billionaire's Row along 57th Street is an equivalent for our times, and not nearly as attractive). Quite a few of these are open to the public in one way or another. Fifth Avenue is long, and walking up and down its Central Park stretch isn't easy. But the greatest concentration of its Gilded Age pleasures is uptown, in a walkable stretch of the 80s and 90s. There's the Metropolitan Museum of Art, of course, on the east side of Central Park between 79th and 84th Street, which was founded in 1870 by the Union League Club. It's a major landmark of the period, but lacks the intimacy of a mansion setting—the massive building in which it's set was built to be a museum, and has been expanded many times. And so, while you're up there, be sure to also swing around the corner to Neue Galerie on East 86th, where 19th-century German and Austrian art hang in the 1914-constructed mansion of industrialist William Starr Miller, designed by Carrère & Hastings (of New York Public Library fame). There's also the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum within the former residence of industrialist-philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, and the recently-renovated-and-restored-and-reopened Frick Collection in the former mansion of financier Henry Clay Frick. Downtown (relatively), in Murray Hill, you'll also find the Morgan Library & Museum housed in the library of J.P. Morgan (who features in The Gilded Age) himself. A few of these spots, and many more, are featured on walking tours like this one for those who prefer a more organized itinerary. Newport Where to stay The Chanler at Cliff Walk Imagine this: you've sat in traffic all the way from Boston or New York City, and as you turn into the Chanler's impressive gates, you're immediately transported to the Gilded Age. You can finally exhale. An unbeatable location abutting Newport's famed Cliff Walk, an award-winning fine-dining restaurant, and plenty of moments for quiet privacy in the thick of the action—the Chanler offers an alchemy that's tough to beat, even by Newport standards. This isn't a hotel for the one-and-done tourist looking to tick Newport off their list—it's a luxurious, one-of-a-kind opportunity for even the most seasoned Newport connoisseurs to engage with this storied destination. It's one of the most strategically located hotels in Newport, striking that perfect balance between not too close yet not too far from anything and everything. Here, you're a few steps from the Cliff Walk's northern terminus, a few further steps down to Easton's Beach, and about one mile from the hustle and bustle of downtown. The walk to central Newport's bars, restaurants, and attractions is pleasant enough, but the Chanler also offers a chauffeured Cadillac to bring you to and fro if you so choose. And why wouldn't you? —Todd Plummer Book Now Powered By: Skylark Book Now Powered By: Expedia The Vanderbilt, Auberge Resorts Collection The Vanderbilt is an elegant yet unpretentious snapshot of the Newport of yesterday and the Newport of today. Stepping into the lobby is like stepping into the foyer of this Gilded Age mansion during its heyday a hundred years ago. This meticulous resort recalls a time when Newport was the essential summer destination to see and be seen. Food and drink take center stage. For fine dining, The Gwynne serves contemporary twists on New England classics and utilizes Newport's freshest catch—the Spanish-style grilled octopus is not to be missed. The place is like a music video for Taylor Swift's Rhode Island ballad, 'The Last Great American Dynasty.' —T.P. Book Now Powered By: Expedia The best things to do Touring the mansions is the best thing to do in Newport, period. Dedicate at least a day to seeing a few of them. If you can only hit one, hit the Breakers, which was the summer cottage of the Vanderbilt family (for whom the Russells stand in on the show). It's a shockingly large summer home that has to be seen to be believed. But there are quite a few other homes worth seeing around Newport. Operated by Newport Mansions and the Preservation Society of Newport County, and therefore under the same umbrella as the Breakers, are places like Marble House (also a bygone Vanderbilt deed) and Rosecliff, the Versailles-inflected summer home of silver heiress Theresa Fair. You can book your Breakers ticket, or your Breakers-plus-one mansion ticket, via GetYourGuide.
Miami Herald
3 hours ago
- Miami Herald
Sydney Sweeney is not Hitler. Do we have to do this over a jeans ad?
Until she speaks up about the absurd controversy swirling around her, it is hard to figure whether Sydney Sweeney is dreading it or enjoying it. It can't be fun to have your ad for jeans smeared as a Nazi dog whistle, but on the other hand, millions now know more about her than we would have otherwise. I was already aware of Sweeney as an 'it' girl of the early 2020s, but beyond her appearance in the first season of 'White Lotus' and her praiseworthy job hosting 'Saturday Night Live' last year, I had not consumed much of her work. While it contains a sleeper-hit 2023 rom-com ('Anything But You'), her résumé also includes some serious and successful turns at acting and, more recently, producing. While she cannot be dismissed as a shallow sex symbol, she has no intention of ignoring the role her appearance has played in her success. This is more than evident in her American Eagle jeans ad, which has caused some sectors of society to spin off the planet entirely. The 15-second clip that has occupied our lives for days contains her use of the homophones 'jeans' and 'genes.' A frame-by-frame recap: We see a pair of jeans worn by a reclining woman as the camera pans up to reveal she is buttoning them. As she begins speaking, the context suggests 'genes;' she says they are 'passed down from parents to offspring, often determining traits like hair color, personality and even eye color.' The camera pans up, across her denim jacket to her face, as she turns toward the camera and says, in the context of what she is wearing: 'My jeans are blue.' As are her eyes, which is the clever wink to the audience. Get it? As if there is any doubt as to the word play involved, big white letters fill the screen with an accompanying voice-over: 'Sydney Sweeney has great jeans.' Well, yes, she does, whichever spelling you use. The double entendre is designed to draw attention to two things: the quality of the clothing and the attractiveness of the model. That second one is apparently a problem, at least for unhinged trolls. They find the genetics imagery instantly reminiscent of Hitler-era eugenics, and they are rattled to their core by a campaign that avoids the apparently necessary boxes that must be checked off in modern advertising. She is white. She is not overweight. She is clearly a woman and acutely aware of it. Three strikes, you're Hitler. Understand that the silly leap toward Third Reich stigma is wholly because American Eagle did not get the memo of what leftist cranks will and won't allow in ads these days. It is wonderful that people of all colors are now found in commercials. It is also good when people are called out for fat-shaming. But have these pendulums swung too far, from praiseworthy acceptance to obnoxious bullying? As recently as 2013, a Cheerios commercial featuring a mixed marriage drew a wave of online surprise. Now such representations are so ubiquitous that a comedian recently observed: 'I saw a commercial last night, and I had to pause it to make sure — the married couple was the same race!' It's as if the culture rushes to counterbalance past neglect but overshoots by miles. Take the issue of weight. Remember when models were too skinny and calls arose for portrayals that looked like 'real women?' That was good. But the recent fad has extended that standard from 'real women' to 'really large women.' And there's no harm in that, either. Beauty does not require a certain weight. But as it will do, the modern scolding community began to defame anyone who would dare suggest that obese people should lose weight. Lizzo, a profoundly talented singer who was also profoundly overweight, has begun a weight-loss journey that has attracted attacks from those who feel she has abandoned the movement to confer 'body positivity' at the expense of wise health advice. Into this crazy mix, insert an ad campaign featuring a famously beautiful actress who happens to be white, and who happens to meet what has forever been a valued standard for an attractive body type. In a world that says ads can feature all races and that beauty can be found in all sizes, this would be a non-issue, just one of countless ad campaigns that swirl around us constantly. But in these twisted times, any drop in the advertising ocean that does not conform to the obligatory trends of the moment must be dragged and mischaracterized. If there is a 1930s Germany analogy to be found in this story, it is not in the innocent content of the ad, but in the excesses of the woke Gestapo that seeks to silence any messaging that gets under its famously thin skin. Mark Davis hosts a morning radio show in Dallas-Fort Worth on 660-AM and at Follow him on X: @markdavis.
