Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From Franklin Street.
No wonder this space hasn’t been rented for several years now.
Filed under: Area 51
One question I often find myself asking is when should something not be boobified. Well today (thanks to a very special correspondent) I got my answer:
When the article in question sports an ample rack…
and puts them to good use. This sculpture (which is wrong for too many reasons to go into here) graces a Civil War monument in front of Iowa’s state capital. I suspect I speak for many when I say Greenpoint needs some, um, uplifting public art like this.
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I found this amusing bit of Garden Spot goodness today at Word Books and felt compelled to pass it along. At $2.75 a pop they might be a bit pricey but nonetheless they strike yours truly as a splendid way to reach out and touch that special someone this upcoming holiday season. Why not reach out and give someone the gift of Greenpoint love today?
126 Franklin Street
Brooklyn, New York 11222
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Last weekend I noticed the awning gracing the Greenpoint Grocery had been removed. Curious to see what was underneath it I went in for a closer look.
Barrels and beer mugs. Why does this not surprise me?
I really like this shot. It’s as if J.F.K. is dreaming of a tall frosty mug of brew!
This flier (which I found at the Northside Pharmacy) might be just the thing.
Why not give “Joey Baby” a call, tune in, turn on and drop out (of your old digs)? If I had any worldly goods of value (and for the record I don’t) I do not know how comfortable I would be having them handled by hippies. I mean, they’re not exactly the most reliable people you know. It would be not unlike buying a $1,000,000 condominium that was built by “MONKEYBOY Construction”.
These two businesses should team up. Seriously.
Whenever I want a little excitement I head over to East WIlliamsburg. No other neighborhood —save perhaps my own —will make you shake your head and mutter to yourself
What the fuck?
with the sheer frequency this place place will. Which brings me to something I found on Bogart Street recently.
It would appear that someone decided to engage in a little physical fitness.
A tipster wrote on Saturday, November, 9, 2008:
labor action down at either northside piers or 184 kent. TWO rats are up.
I went down there without delay only to discover a few protesters, NO RATS and jaded affluenzics.
I asked these chaps what was up with the rats.
Miss Heather: I was told two rats were down here, where are they? Or did you have to pay them time and a half?
Union Man #1: On Sundays they get paid double time!
Miss Heather: (laughing)
Union Man #2: We only pull out the rats on the days they work. Yesterday we had 200 hundred man here.
Miss Heather: Yikes, it was so nasty out. After working I went home!
Union Man #2: They served lunches yesterday.
Then we discussed the joy of “scab labor” in north Brooklyn. One protester put it this way:
It gets worse. First they build in Manhattan, then DUMBO, then Williamsburg, and Greenpoint. The further out they go, the lower the quality.
Miss Heather: No shit. I have the pleasure of living on the same block as Magic Johnson’s condos.
They immediately felt sorry for me. As I did for them.
“Cutting corners” I asked: “I thought everything being built here was crap, what makes this building special?”
That’s why I rent in Greenpoint. And won’t buy “to own” crap like this:
$2,900 for a one bedroom apartment is 2x what I pay for rent.
In Greenpoint. I LOVE Greenpoint. Why the hell should I move?
P.S.: The orange fur gracing the photograph gracing the beginning of this belongs to Mr. Heather’s cat Artemis.
He was engaged in some kind of solidarity sit-in atop the scanner and I saw no reason to remove him.
Filed under: Williamsburg
I have never gotten the male fascination with this female orifice. Perhaps it is because I have one. Speaking from personal experience having a “hooha” ain’t all it’s cracked up to be: every 28 days it is a source of irritation to yours truly. Nonetheless tree twats (like the above specimen which hails from Bedford Avenue at North 3rd Street) proliferate. Yet none of them menstruate (I’d like to see that!). But I discovered yesterday one makes music.
When I walked by this honey pot on North 3rd Street (just north of Kent Avenue) I heard music. Don’t believe me, hear for yourself.
My ‘gina symphony of choice is Igor Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring”. Clearly I have a lot of practicing before I make it to Carnegie Hall.
Filed under: Bushwick
Mister Heather (or any of my friends) will attest to the fact that I am neither well endowed with titties nor patience. This never bothered me much as both the previous preclude using power tools with total abandon. Conversely, when I do, indeed, “plan” something and pull it off they are pleasantly surprised. The key to success is keeping expectations low. That way you never fail. Which brings me to this.
I have been casing this frog on Flushing Avenue for months. Usually this playground is filled with children. Yesterday it was filled with surly Parks employees sweeping up leaves. Once we came to a silent understanding (that being: leaving each other well enough alone) I finally got my opportunity.
It was totally worth it.
AKA: How did you spend your weekend?
I spent mine hanging out home, reading, doing some (MUCH OVERDUE) house cleaning and taking some photographs. One of my fellow north Brooklynites had a much more provocative time last night. What’s more, he/she deemed it worth sharing with the world.
Punching a woman in the face. WOW. That’s much more provocative than, say, washing dishes or feeding cats— which is what I did yesterday. Occasionally I fantasize about punching the Mister in the face after picking up one “too many” of his messes. I am not a barbarian; we talk things over. What’s more, I know the penal code. Punching someone in the face is a class A misdemeanor.
I suppose then it would only be reasonable that my fellow blogger is not aware of the following either.
Threatening someone online constitutes Aggravated Harassment. Another class A misdemeanor.
Before you punch: point, click and assess the consequences, Miss Deameanor. The recipient of your criminal acts might feel compelled to prosecute.
P.S.: I didn’t publish the “choice bits” nor do I intend to.
P.S. #2: This is an embarassment to any and all people who write blogs. For the right reasons.