Filed under: 11211, 11222, Crap Map, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
As many of you reading this are probably aware, yours truly has a fondness for fur kids. This is especially true of cats. For this reason I feel compelled to pass along that BARC is seeking donations of art for their upcoming fundraiser. Julie writes:
Just to confirm, the event is scheduled for Monday, September 13th at My Two Dogs, 434 Manhattan Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11222 (718-963-0400).
The time will be from 7 PM until approximately 10 PM. Any artwork that artists would like to donate can be dropped off at BARC Shelter, 253 Wythe Ave, or I can arrange to pick it up. BARC hours are Tues-Sat from 12-5.
The event is free for people who just want to attend. If someone wants to bring home a piece of artwork they’ll donate $250 and they’ll select the piece they want (names of all the people who donate $250 go into a jar and are picked at random- first name picked selects first and so on).
I have been advised that any and all artists donating work should attach a piece of paper to their work with the following information:
- their name
- their email address (NOTE: this is for BARC’s purposes only.)
- name of the piece (if there is one)
- media used in the piece
The deadline for submissions is September 1st, so any and all interested in submitting work should get hustling!
September 13, 2010 7:00 – 10:00 p.m.
My Two Dogs
434 Manhattan Avenue
Brooklyn, New York 11222
Question: Other than reading the signs how can you tell the following pay phone is not located in Greenpoint?
The answer should be obvious to any Greenpointer worth his salt: if it was someone would be rummaging through the bag dangling from the receiver. After checking the change slot for any errant quarters, naturally.
Last Sunday I rooked my husband into accompanying me as I went on another (albeit smallish) fact-finding mission*. Our route was as follows.
West Street has never failed to deliver (large quantities of dog shit) before and this occasion proved to be no different. Here are a few of my favorite shits.
65 Green Street
SHIT Tac Toe! I won! I won!
79 Green Street
This is just plain scary. And last but not least, my personal favorite from…
150 West Street!
It was a very fruitful trip— and the dog shit I found was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, if you know what I mean.
When I reached Kent Street I noticed yet another group of older buildings that seemed to be awaiting a date with the wrecking ball. I went in for a closer look. And when I did, I found this. I walked another 5-6 feet and found these.
It would appear that had stumbled upon a trail, a Skidmark Row if you will, of grannie panties that spanned 59 Kent Street. Fascinating.
So if any of you:
- woke up last Sunday morning (after several rousing trysts at Mary D’s the night before) and found yourself wondering “Gee, where’s my underwear?”
- have fantasies involving Estelle Getty, The Golden Girls, getting golden showers from golden girls— or all of the above
- find the “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” lady strangely arousing
- have a thing for underwear resembling Depends undergarments
today’s your lucky day! Go on down to Kent Street (I have indicated the location on the above map with a red dot) and dig in. And when you’re done, why not swing by Brooklyn Bridge Marriott tomorrow afternoon for this?
*After what transpired earlier that day, I felt my husband owed it to me.
I woke up on Sunday about 30 minutes after my husband. I got out of bed, put on my pajama bottoms (which were exactly where I had left them the night before: at the foot of the bed) and wandered into the kitchen. After I had managed to plow through two cups of coffee, my husband charged into the living room babbling “You aren’t wearing the striped pants, are you?”
“Striped pants?” I thought to myself.
Husband: Yeah, the ones you are wearing. I found those wadded up in the cat box this morning.
I must had worn these soiled ‘striped pants’ for at least 20 minutes before my husband saw fit to notice and/or tell me. I am still trying to figure out why the hell he didn’t simply put them in the dirty laundry hamper instead of putting them back on the floor. Gross.
After taking some time off to recuperate from having company, this morning I bundled up, wandered into the living room and sorted some shit.
My latest route took me to Manhattan Avenue between Green Street and Newton Creek.
Not only did I find plenty of crap, but I discovered that an ice cream shop is slated for 97 Commercial Street (the former location of Bleu Drawes). This does not strike me as the most appropriate business venture to pursue this time of year, but then again at least it isn’t (yet) another bank or Thai restaurant. This ‘hood needs more pad Thai as much as it needs more dog shit: both are already in overabundance in my not-so-humble opinion.
Anyhoo, after becoming better acquainted with the vagaries of Flickr Maps (READ: I broke down and followed the directions), I have added my latest finds to my 2007 Crap Map. I have also reorganized a number of my photos so the newer readers among you can parse through my “Backdoor Crapstavaganza“: a photo diary of stuff my neighbors throw out their window. After a four month dry spell, I finally found a new item to add to it this week.
P.S.: After some serious thought, I have decided to (somewhat) reverse my “no profit” stance regarding this blog. I am of the opinion that “Mr. Poopyhead” mugs
(and possibly t-shirts) bibs, doggie coats and thong underwear need to be made available to the general public. I am currently investigating ways to make this happen.
I have often wondered why there is so much dog shit on Dupont Street. Of all the blocks in my part of the ‘hood, Dupont is by and far the worst when it comes to crap. It’s fucking gross.
My initial theory was that dog owners were letting their canines crap with total abandon behind the old folks home (Mary D’s). And after last week’s fact-finding mission, I determined this to be true. What is surprising is WHO the statistics suggest as being the responsible for this doggie doo death gauntlet. Read on and draw your own conclusions.
The area I covered was a small one: Clay, Dupont, Eagle and Freeman Streets between Manhattan Avenue and Franklin Street. How much shit did I find? A LOT.
SEVENTY PILES OF SHIT IN FOUR BLOCKS.
Note: These are conservative figures. I often encountered mounds of dog shit and was forced to estimate how many separate bowel movements were present.
The above pie chart illustrates how much dog shit was found on/adjacent to Mary D’s versus the rest of the block. What is especially telling was the amount of shit located immediately outside and DIRECTLY ACROSS THE STREET from the rear exit of this facility (at 80 Dupont Street).
God I hope it was dog shit I saw back there; what kind of place are these people running?!? Maybe this is a new part of President Bush’s Medicare Plan? Hell if I know— and I don’t think I want to find out.
Elder abuse concerns aside, here’s a brand-spanking new “Crap Map” for your entertainment.
Yesterday I set forth with my trusty digital camera and documented the shit-laden apocalyptic wasteland that Green Street has become. After asserting in this post that development has precipitated a deluge dog shit, I decided to put my theory to the test. The Dog Shit Queen of Greenpoint is not one to state findings without the data to back it up.*
After crunching the numbers, there does appear to be a relationship between development and dog shit. However, it is a more subtle one than I had initially projected. For example:
By all appearances the above chart suggests that there is no relationship whatsoever between development and dog shit. But if one looks at a breakdown by location (and bears in mind that 110-142 Green Street is the area being razed to build condos) a trend begins to emerge.
Note: The closer an undeveloped property is to the development site, the more dog shit there is to be found.
In addition, even-numbered properties (those on the same side of the street as the development site) seem to be harder hit than their odd-numbered counterparts across the street. Mere coincidence? I think not.
Still don’t believe me? Check out the shitcam.
*I prefer to leave this practice to our Chimp in Chief, thank you.
Here it is: my very first PoopiPoint Presentation for all to enjoy. Be sure to check out the accompanying Crap Map too!
As promised, here is the Crap Map for August 30, 2006.
Here is a map which highlights my primary area of interest…
…and here is a pie chart that gives a general run-down of where I found dog shit.
Although I did not conduct my fact-finding mission at the time my tipster recommended (9:30 p.m.), it was still a pretty substantial haul in terms of both quantity and sheer mass. I will definitely keep my eye on this area from now on!
Like a number of you, I frequently wonder about who (or perhaps more accurately, what) my neighbors are. These musings are usually preceded by my:
- finding a new piece porn (homemade or professional, I have found both— on several occasions).
- watching the police perform their duties. “To protect and serve” hereabouts seems to mean breaking up melees fueled by alcohol, infidelity and abject stupidity. OR
- hopscotching over ungodly amounts of dog shit.
Yesterday I did #3. What I assumed would be a one block trek in the rain to get me a bottle of Ito-En tea from the Franklin Corner Store ended up being a slush-ridden gauntlet through dog shit hell. It was a veritable sea of fly-ridden shit soup!
It was gross. VERY GROSS. A little backwash of vomit even crept up my throat while I photographed some of this shit. No joke.
my neighbors are inconsiderate, lazy pigs. my neighbors are sexually perverse, inconsiderate, lazy pigs.
Some of you who have looked at today’s New York Times might have read Maureen Dowd’s Op-Ed piece, “Camus Comes to Crawford”. The fact that Mr. Bush is trying to wrap his head around The Stranger is probably disturbing enough for most people, but my latest dog doo recon mission casts this development in an even more sinister light.
My route was as follows:
Here are the Crap Stats.
And here is a bar graph illustrating an unusual statistic I discovered.
As you have probably noticed, the block that has a portrait of Albert Camus on it also has a significantly elevated amount of dog crap. It would appear that there is a certain level of attraction between Mr. Camus and dog shit. And if you have read Ms. Dowd’s column today, you can (via deductive reasoning) draw yet another conclusion…
Today’s Crap Map can be found here.