Literally. Last night I was contacted by a fellow Greenpointer on a mission. Suzy writes:
dear miss heather,
would you be so kind as to take a gander at my blog?
today’s feature is BOB THE BARC DOG. i hope that you will consider adding this blog as a link in your blogroll; my aim is to get more exposure for the doggies from BARC…
p.s. bob is known as hope at the shelter.Â my BF said we cannot call him that; as it is a girlie name, so we call him bob hope.
I do not agree with Suzy’s boyfriend. As it would happen we have a new semi-feral cat in our pride. I wanted to name it “Babka” but Mr. Heather panned the idea. Then I named it Sheba. Mr. Heather liked that name so we rolled with it. Until, that is, until we discovered Sheba was, in fact, a HEba. That changed everything.
Solomon didn’t seem to suit his temperament (he’s a bit of a asshole), so I named him Sue. Despite being trapped and having his “manhood” removed, “Sue” does not seem the least bit upset by his name. As long as I pony up the catnip pellets once a week and dole out the kibble on time he is puuuurfectly content. Otherwise it gets ugly.
Just like Mr. Cash, Sue likes to sing. Especially when he has not has his weekly allotment of catnip pellets. His venue of choice is outside my bedroom window. His audience is our resident felines. Sue likes to regale them with tales about the “nip” taken from his ear. Over so many beers. Sue is one bad dude (or fancies himself as such).
(Bob) Hope isn’t. Suzy writes:
Bob is darned near perfect, except that he does seem rather depressed. I’m waiting for him to come out of his shell, and will update this post over the next couple of days. We’re having a bobâ€’bâ€’que in his honor tomorrow night. I betcha he likes steak … just a hunch.
One more thing â€’ Bob makes his bed.
When I brought Bob home last night, I took a king â€’size quilt from the closet, laid it down and folded it in half. Bob took over from there…
we were watching tv, and I guess it was too loud for him, so he dragged his bed into the other room, folded it again, and went to sleep. Bob kinda rocks.
It’s a good thing that Bob is an arranger of bedclothes, as Bob really, really likes to sleep.
This poor fella has been in the care of the wonderful BARC shelter since APRIL! He was found on the street and brought to BARC by the cops. Bob weighs about 50 pounds, is about six years old, is neutered, and has all of his shots. He likes men, women, children, cats, and other dogs. I’m honestly trying to find something wrong with him, but, so far, no go.
Nor do any the lovely (and loving) dogs Suzy writes about on her blog. Check it out!
Filed under: Williamsburg
Just in time for the morning commute of poor unfortunates who have to work this week: a bit of Williamsburg love via Driggs Avenue.
From Bogart Street.
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
To all of you hot sauce, ceviche, cubano, pernil, maduros, pico de gallo lovers, this week is your last chance to come enjoy your favorite dish at Casa Mon Amour. We will be changing the cuisine and kitchen staff after labor day. We will be open every night for dinner, but closed on Sunday. Will keep you posted to all the changes and improvement we are making to the restaurant. Enjoy what is left of the summer and see you soon.
I have been a fan of Beatrice’s French cooking for some time. Given she spent almost her entire childhood in French West Africa (and as a result is very knowledgeable about its cuisine) I have to wonder (or would that be hope?) that maybe one of the upcoming changes at Casa Mon Amour will be a menu reflecting her French and West African heritage. I for one find this prospect very exciting. But I suppose we will all have to wait until after Labor Day to find out what Beatrice has up her sleeve!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From Meserole Avenue.
Filed under: Area 51
Chances are if you you are reading this right now you are missing some sweet deals at the yard sale at 161 Milton Street. Check it out!
From Bushwick Avenue.
Filed under: Queens
P.S.: Next month Sunnyside will be hosting its very own film festival: Sunnyside Shorts! Here are the deets as they have been relayed to me:
More than 15 filmmakers will have their work showcased at the Sunnyside Shorts Film Festival on Saturday, September 6, 2008 at 8:00 PM in the Sunnyside Gardens Park at 49th Street and 39th Avenue in Queens. Admission is free, but donations are gratefully accepted.
Featured films run from one minute to 15 minutes in length and include animation, documentary, and narration. All films abide by PG-rating guidelines. Filmmakers hail from all over the United States, as well as international locations. Samples of the festivalâ€™s annual youth workshop will also be shown.
Early arrivals will be treated to traditional Irish music by local musicians Donie Carroll, Dan Neely and members of The Washington Square Harp and Shamrock Orchestra beginning at 7:00 PM.
The Sunnyside Gardens Park is an outdoor venue. Limited seating is available; attendees are welcome to bring blankets, pillows, or low beach chairs. In the event of rain, the festival will be held at the Sunnyside Community Center, 41-31 39th Street between Queens Boulevard and 43rd Avenue.
A reception will be held by the festivalâ€™s sponsor, Mike Murphy, at his bar, Murphyâ€™s Bar, at 49th Street and Skillman Avenue, one block north of the festival site. The reception will begin approximately 30 minutes after the festival ends.
Rooftop Films will be providing technical support.
For more information check out their web site.
As I indicated yesterday, I took a rather long walk. I rambled through Greenpoint. I knocked around East Williamsburg and even a little Bushwick. Then I arrived at the home of much Fedders goodness: Bedford Stuyvesant. Here are some of my findings.
This beauty hails from Broadway. Note the prominently placed electric meters and extensive use of stick-on numbers. Clearly the person responsible for this building spared no expense: those numbers cost $1.99 a pop!
This charming specimen comes from Monroe Street. As I was taking the above photograph a child was wailing from the second window from the top left.
Maybe these satellite dishes offended his aesthetic sensibilities…
or Dong Dong (conveniently located at the end of the block) was taking to long to deliver his Chow Mein? Only he knows for certain.
This selection hails from Tompkins Avenue. For those of you not in the know, this thoroughfare is named after Daniel D. Tompkins, former New York State Governor and the 6th Vice President of the United States. Per Wikipedia:
While as governor of New York, Tompkins personally borrowed money and used his own property as collateral when the New York state legislature would not approve the necessary funds for the War of 1812. After the war, neither the state nor the federal government reimbursed him so he could repay his loans. Years of litigation did not end until 1824, and it took a toll on his health. Tompkins fell into alcoholism, and as vice president he at times presided over the Senate while drunk. He died in Tompkinsville three months after retiring as Vice President and was interred in the Minthorne vault in St. Mark’s Churchyard, New York City. Tompkins had the shortest post-vice presidency of any person who survived the office: 99 days (March 4, 1825â€“June 11, 1825).
Dying in disgrace (and being a Vice President) is bad enough. Do we really need to erect crap like this on the street that bears his name?
I mean the man DID help fund the War of 1812— out of his own pocket, no less.
But I suppose if this is the treatment Lafayette gets he is in good company.
Nonetheless, it strikes me as being a little unfair. I mean, if this is how we treat the memory of a pretty good Governor (if a bit marginal Vice President), how will time treat someone like Dick Cheney or Eliot Spitzer? My mind cannot muster anything suitable for Mr. Cheney, but I think I have Mr. Spitzer covered.
Former New York City Mayor James “Jimmie” J. Walker (who was hardly a saint but sure knew how to coin a phrase) was once quoted as saying:
A reformer is a guy who rides through the sewer in a glass bottom boat.
Methinks Mr. Spitzer did a little more than simply ride through the sewer in a glass bottom boat. I think he took a nice long bath.
Therefore I would like to humbly suggest that Greenpoint’s very own shit tits be renamed the Eliot L. Spitzer Memorial Waste Treatment Facility*. Thoughts anyone?
*Sure, the man ain’t dead yet but his career in politics sure as hell is!
I have patronized the G train long enough not to be surprised by who (or what) I see riding with me. I have seen Elvis. I have seen a drunk Polish man offer vodka to his imaginary friend. I have seen public masturbators …more than once. When I hopped onto the subway yesterday at Bedford-Nostrand I discovered a hitherto unknown Crosstown Local demographic:
True to form, no one gave him a second look. I was tempted to ask him for a photograph (his nose was painted red, I found this kind of charming), but he seemed pretty engrossed in yesterday’s edition of the New York Daily News so I didn’t want to disturb him. When he got off at the Metropolitan Avenue stop I noticed the large red button on his cap read “staff”. I’m guessing this is so he can be distinguished from any practicing amateur or non-Union pirates which may happen to be milling about Williamsburg.