Remember when Tasti D-lite was the king of low-calorie soft-serve?  No more. In the past eighten months, “real” frozen yogurt shops have sprouted all across Manhattan, and the boom shows no signs of slowing. Last month yet another, 16 Handles, opened up on Second Avenue not far from the new Pinkberry on St. Mark’s Place, (with a buy-one-get-one-free offer for August). It seemed like overkill, but I was hopeful. Maybe 16 Handles can save me from my Pinkberry addiction.

Not long ago I silently mocked the lines winding out of each newly-opened Pinkberry, packed with people willing to shell out $6 for a cup of sleekly-packaged swirly girly low-cal dessert something, for no one was quite sure if it was really yogurt, or a batch of chemicals–not that anyone really cared. But then Pinkberry got its frosty fangs in me. The concoction is creamy, tart, and sweet at first taste, then the flavor gently fades, leaving you face-down in your cup, chasing that initial tang all the way to the bottom. Topped with enough supersized, abnormally-perfect raspberries and blackberries to make it acceptably healthy, each costly cup of this embarrassingly compelling stuff drove me from the bright shop into the shadows, blissfully snacking and hating myself at the same time.

I tried Red Mango, an Asian import which has recently landed on 14th street and claims the Pinkberry entreprenuers swiped its yogurt concept; it wasn’t the same. I missed that tarty zing–that sugary something–that ineffable Pinkberryness…

16 Handles‘ plain tart yogurt is pretty close to what I require in a frozen yogurt. The whole place is self serve, and offers 16 rotating flavors (chocolate, raspberry tart, and mango sorbet stood out to me), and a salad-bar sized selection of toppings from fresh fruit to yogurt chips, granola, ground-up butterfingers, and long-forgotten breakfast cereals like cinnamon toast crunch (hmmm). I liked being able to control how much of everything went into my cup and pay by weight–I ended up shelling out $4.09 for my strawberry-and-mango-studded creation instead of the requisite $6.23 for the Pinkberry three-topping medium. But be sure to come armed with a little self-control, or it could get expensive.

I have one critique–the little wooden eco-spoons were awful. Fro-yo needs to be lapped from smooth white plastic, not off a splintery surface. If you dare to go on the front lines of the yogurt war, dash around the corner and get yourself a proper spoon from Pinkberry on St. Mark’s Place.

16 Handles 153 Second Ave. between 9th and 10th Street

Pill-poppers and germaphobes everywhere received a stunning blow yesterday, when it was revealed that there is no scientific evidence that alka-seltzerish “immunity-booster” Airborne prevents colds. Well, maybe not so stunning. Despite a few endorsements from friends, I had my doubts about the stuff. Sure, I still used it but I need my placebo pellet-peddlers to remain untouched by litigation. Once that happens my stupidness threshold prevents me from actually spending money on the item.

This morning, as I gently stuff myself onto a hot, packed subway that stinks of fetid, phlegmy coughs, I wonder: what oh what will replace the fizzy comfort of Airborne? Short of developing a hand-washing compulsion that leaves me with papery geriatric fingers, or wearing a latex body suit, it seems I am exposed at every turn.

Here are instructions on how to get your Airborne refund online. Mind you, if you submit a claim for more than six packages, you must send in your file of neatly-saved Airborne receipts, which you have no doubt stashed away for just such an occasion.

The pizza at Alligator Lounge might just be a miracle of modern budget boozery, because no one can quite figure out how it’s free. Well, it’s not exactly free—you must purchase one drink, at about $5 a pop, to get a free pizza ticket. Once you’ve completed this task, you simply march up to the brick oven, and present your ticket. If you want toppings, it’ll be $2 for the first and $1 for each additional. But assuming you don’t, in about ten minutes you’ll have a piping-hot 12-inch pie to accompany your beer at a cost of ZERO DOLLARS (but if you’re classy you’ll leave $1 for your pizza guy).

How? How is it possible? Because the pizza actually isn’t half bad. True, it tastes better when it has some liquor to soak up in your belly. And you might want to blot the grease with several napkins and go heavy on the crushed red pepper and oregano to give it some extra taste. Better yet, you might want to carry along your own personal pizza spice-rack, with plenty of fresh basil, for just these kinds of situations. But if you spice it up just right and be sure to eat it fast before the cheese congeals—this is the miracle of which I speak.

The ambience is, I think, cheesy-tropical: potted palms and bamboo shades, flamingos and rainbow lights, with a decent digital jukebox and a pool table. In other words, it’s a perfect late-night hunger fix (until 3:30 am), or a place to get the party started before moving on to some serious drinking at Spuyten Duyvil.

If you don’t feel like hopping the L, there’s even an East Village outpost. And while I don’t advise this, if you can handle two pizzas, you get another free one with your second drink. Of course, this place does draw a crowd. I’m even a little reluctant to spread the word. Beware the crapshoot that is comedy Tuesdays.

Free Pizza!

Brooklyn: Alligator Lounge, 600 Metropolitan Ave. at Lorimer St. Open Daily 3pm-4am

East Village: Crocodile Lounge 325 E 14th St. at First Avenue Open Daily 12pm-4am