I saw this advertisement yesterday at Word Books. If anyone out there needs a dog sitter for his/her not too strong friendly with people and not sick dog, today’s your lucky day. Isabel runs a 100% professional business; she will only sit at your house. So you better damned have cable and keep the refrigerator stocked.
for all you hip urban professionals out there who cannot afford Manhattan digs. Be advised that the developer’s rendering of 110 Green Street does not do justice to the scenic views your $400,000+ will buy. So in the interest of making an informed decision, I want to share a little slice of Green
Street point life I spied yesterday afternoon with you.
I shit you not, this dude was asleep (passed out?) as the pile driver (seen behind the tree in the above photo) continued its aural assault on everyone who has the misfortune of living within earshot of it. Which (from what I can tell) is pretty much anywhere within a 3-4 block radius, myself included. All you homebuyers better take note, as this dude is clearly very serious about getting first whack at this great real estate opportunity.
And oh yeah, be sure to practice safe sex while you wait! 111 Green Street is already feeling the magic, how about you?
P.S.: For those of you who may wonder why I have a ‘thing’ for 110 Green, read on. Just over a week ago I told my upstairs neighbor, who I will call Yessenia a (fan-fucking-tabulous) Puerto Rican woman who has resided in my building much longer than myself, about Magic’s— uh— magic. Her question was “So how are the people here going to afford it?”
To wit I said:
They can’t. This 130 unit condominium building is (per the developer) directed towards affluent young families who cannot afford to buy in Manhattan.
Which brings me to this. I knocked around this site (albeit lackadaisically) and no mention of 110 Green was to be found. I think revitalizing ‘inner cities’ and ‘under-served communities’ is a good cause. The fly in my proverbial ointment is though Greenpoint may be ‘under-served’ it is NOT ‘inner-city’— or to use the common moniker nowadays: ‘blighted’.
The crimes committed against my (otherwise very vibrant) community are countless and I doubt the culprits (READ: Exxon-Mobil, our elected officials, et. al.) will ever be held accountable. A 130 unit ‘luxury’ condominium building on Green Street is not going to change this. Much less encourage ‘diversity’. “Yessenia” put it perfectly when she told me the following Puerto Rican proverb:
The last one at the table is the first one to eat.
Earvin “Magic” Johnson’s financing ‘urban renewal’ in Greenpoint is facilitating (to bastardize Clarence Thomas) minority removal.
Bon appetit, Magic!
Filed under: Area 51
Unlike my buddy Bob, I actually enjoy reading the comments posted on Curbed. This is probably because I make it a point to troll the depths of human stupidity, arrogance and avarice whenever the time affords itself. By far my favorite type of comment to be found there is of the (ubiquitous) “if you don’t like it, go back to hell where you came from” variety.
There is something grimly ironic about living in the city of immigrants and being told if you are not from Brooklyn you are not entitled to any say regarding events happening there. It makes me wish I could teleport these assholes to 1855 when ONE THIRD of the ENTIRE FUCKING BOROUGH was Irish born. I’d love to see how one of my Celtic homeboys would respond to such a crass and nativist statement, although two words do immediately come to mind: WHOOP ASS (or BEAT DOWN— take your pick).
My usual response to being told to go home is this: I AM HOME. Greenpoint is my home. Has been for some time. Although inconceivable to many, I cannot honestly imagine living anywhere else. I love it here and am genuinely worried about the events that are (sadly) reshaping this ‘hood for generations to come. Being awakened every morning by a pile driver doesn’t help much either.
That said, I was recently in the position of considering what it would be like to live somewhere else. This is because some real estate snake oil salesman (please excuse the previous redundancy) SOMEHOW got my husband’s contact information and had the temerity to mail us an offer (he thought) we couldn’t refuse…
Ocala’s unique environment is one of the major reasons why people come here to visit, and then live. According to Ocala tourism officials, those of us who live in Ocala have a number of special benefits. All the things that make our wonderful state so attractive to millions of visitors from all over the world are right here in our own backyard.
That statement is no more true about Ocala/Marion county than almost any other place in the state. Our own backyard includes Silver Springs-Nature’s Theme Park. The Ocala National Forest, the rolling green fields of horse farms, historic districts and city streets canopied by 100 year old trees, outstanding golf courses, friendly communities, crystal clear rivers and fresh water springs. Also, the sub-tropical climate makes Marion County a vacation land year round. Little wonder that residents spend as much times as possible outdoors.
Much of the region’s natural beauty remains unspoiled, and the residents enjoy a quality of life that has little equal. Here the pace of life is moderated by the tranquility of the setting. With nearly perfect weather year-round, the outdoors offers an endless panorama of natural beauty, historic landmarks, and both natural and man-made recreational activities.
The Ocala/Marion County area won national distinction when Ocala was named an “All American City” by the National Civic League, and the area was named fifth most desirable place to live by Money Magazine. Ocala offers virtually every shopping convenience with major malls and national known stores and restaurants. Yet the city is comfortable sized and easy to get around in, having maintained much of its historic charm.
In conclusion, in Ocala/Marion County there is no state taxes. This is where you can get affordable housing starting at $138,500 with little or no money out of your pocket if you qualify. Whether you are interested making Ocala/Marion County your home or a place to invest, please do not hesitate to call me now. Cell: 555-1212 or call (name excised), (name excised) or (name excised) @ 555-1313.
Please share this information-Its a great place for business.
The first thought that crossed my mind upon reading the above ‘teaser’ was “Where the hell is Ocala, Florida?” After a little ‘Googling’, the second one was “Why the hell would I want to move there?!?” I am guessing the logic here (if there us any) is that if my husband and I pay so much money in rent to live in nasty old Greenpoint, we would be absolutely delighted to have very our own piece of the American (D)ream in Florida.
If this was the assumption, it was a faulty one; I hate Florida. The reasons are WAY too numerous to go into on this post, but the
2004 2000 Presidential Election is one of them. What’s more, I FUCKING DESPISE tract homes. The same goes for shoddy grammar. But let’s get back to my new dream home…
There’s something mildly disquieting about naming a line of tract homes after a water filtration system. Perhaps they seek to preserve my precious bodily fluids (so they can extract them later in lieu of a ginormous balloon payment)? Then again, maybe I am being too harsh? So let’s learn a little bit more about the paradise that is Ocala, Florida.
Per this site Ocala sports:
- …tornado activity is slightly above Florida state average. It is 60% greater than the overall U.S. average. (No wonder they have so many ‘outdoor activities’ down there. —Ed. Note.)
- 297 registered sex offenders (against an overall population of ~46,000). That’s kind of scary, but don’t worry…
- when my turn comes I can take solace in the fact that my attacker will probably be a married white male:
- 69% of the population is white
- 48% of the population is married
- Whew! I feel A LOT better— how about you? It gives me peace of mind to know that my odds are 1:167 for bumping into a registered sex offender when I go to the Super Walmart to buy my Ho-Hos, Pall Malls and econo-packs of YooHoo. As long as I don’t have expose my lily white soul to ‘dem godless homos (which constitute a whopping .5% of the population), I’m satisfied. (And I’m certain the only reason these sodomites are left is because
theyGOD ran out of kindling.)
- My career prospects (as a female) include:
- Preschool, kindergarten, elementary and middle school teachers (6%)
- Secretaries and administrative assistants (6%)
- Other office and administrative support workers including supervisors (5%)
- Registered nurses (4%)
- Cashiers (4%)
- Other sales and related workers including supervisors (4%)
Wow, this is an awful lot of of material for my wee widdle (underpaid wiper of other peoples’ bottoms) brain to process! Maybe a checklist would help…
…and Greenpoint wins by a NOSE!
Filed under: Area 51
I came across the above item yesterday via The Gowanus Lounge. My curiosity aroused, I read more about this event on their web site and, after some careful consideration, decided to check this thing out. “Miss Heather… going to Park Slope?!?“, you exclaim? Well, the following dialogue between my husband and I should lend a little insight as to what the deciding factor was for this momentous decision.
Me: Dude, the sponsor of this event is a tequila maker. They’re serving margaritas at this shindig.
Husband: So when is it?
Me: I don’t know. I just RSVP-ed for it.
So there have you. Miss Heather may dislike the ‘Slope, but I also believe Greenpoint needs to represent. And being the fine-ass Dog Shit Queen I am, it is my responsibility to do the representing the best way I know how by:
- swilling free booze and
- acting like a drunken asshole the entire ride home (on the G train) afterwards.
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I take pride in the fact that when my readers find a pile of dog shit, they think of me. What’s more, the following email leads me to believe that public nuisances in general are becoming my calling card. Read on and you’ll see what I mean. Karolyn writes:
Hey. I’ve been lurking your site for awhile and woke up thinking about you this morning. (! —Ed. Note) Don’t be scared, it was largely due to the construction thumping that’s shaking my building a block away. I call the department of buildings nearly every day to register a complaint.
Also, my indoor cat’s developed kidney stones twice in the past 6 months and I’m wondering if you’ve had any problems with your pets. Until October, she was in perfect health and now I’m mopping up bloody drops of urine in our bathtub. The vet said it could be atmospheric (This is really disturbing, thoughts anyone? — Ed. Note) and I’m more than willing to believe it has something to do with all of this stuff going on in the neighborhood.
I’m going to be a bit presumptuous here and assume that Karolyn woke up (again) today with Miss Heather on her mind. At 7:20 a.m. to be exact, as that is when they decided to fire up the pile driver this morning. I feel like Charleton Heston’s character in the movie Ben Hur as I write this tome. You know, the scene where he (Ben Hur) is in steerage rowing the boat while some shirtless dude beats a drum.
What’s that I hear? Ohhhh, it is the sound of Magic telling me to speed it up. Gotta run now! Ramming speed, everybody!