To my dear friend, New York City, I’ve spent the last fourteen months with you, and boy was it great. To the rest of the world, you’re a star. You’re Carrie Bradshaw and Miracle on 34th Street and the place where Ross and Rachel fell in love. You’re the city that never sleeps. The place that Frank Sinatra croons about and the place Lady Gaga calls her hometown. To me, you aren’t any of these things. To me, you’re a little bit of a bitch. You eat my hard-earned paycheck for breakfast. You smell a little funny, especially in the…