Cafe Cito Bogota
Greenpoint is well hung (and/or delusional)
The male ego has always been a source of fascination to me. As time has gone by I have come to the realization that earning 70 cents on the dollar is a very small price to pay for not bearing the burden of life-long severe social retardation many of my XY chromo brothers seem to be afflicted with. For example…
Several years ago I came across a personals ad for some gent who lives(d?) in Greenpoint. After listing his interests, hangouts (the Pencil Factory) and describing his appearance, he closed with his biggest, uh, enticement for the ladies:
Only women who know how to handle large equipment (10″ +) need reply.
Whoa dude, put that thing away! Greenpoint is a pretty small place. For the next several months I found myself wondering if the guy sitting next to me at the Pencil Factory— or waiting behind me at the grocery store checkout had an anaconda in his pants. This is no way to go through life.
Which brings me to today’s “Dung of the Day” from India Street…
Greenpoint, where the turds are hung like just their men: too big (and TOO close) for comfort.