Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Bubbles the Pit Bull Mix is MIA!
Filed under: Area 51
As I was doing a bit of grocery shopping this afternoon I spied a new addition to the growing number of “Lost Pet” posters which grace my corner of the Garden Spot.
This very attractive lass managed to stray from her home yesterday, October 16, and is now on the loose. If you have seen Bubbles, a brindle pit bull mix sporting a red collar, please contact her owner at any of the above phone numbers. They will be very grateful for any and all information you can provide to help bring Bubbles back home.
Miss Heather
Socrates Gets “Chopped”
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
A few months ago my fellow Greenpointer 11222 noted that Socrates Diner was closing. I learned this week that this is not entirely true. Socrates is still with us, they simply leased out the northern section of their store front.
What kind of business now occupies this space, you ask?
Another fucking real estate broker, that’s who. I cannot decide which is more ridiculous: the recent (and massive) proliferation of real estate offices here or paying $1,400 a month for a one bedroom apartment on Siegel Street. Both are equally absurd (and loathsome) in my book.
Miss Heather
Credits: The “Socrates For Rent” photograph is courtesy of 11222.
Greenpoint is a Very Special Place
Filed under: Area 51
I recently thanked my buddy over at Greenpointers for writing a post about Greenpoint’s very own naked guy. I wrote:
Loved your naked man post, btw. Why does he being a Greenpoint resident NOT surprise me?
I do not read the New York Post on a regular basis so this choice morsel of Greenpoint glory probably would have gone unnoticed by yours truly. It should be noted, however, that I have not gone unnoticed by the Greenpoint naked guy. Greenpointers pointed this out to me via an email entitled “Naked Guy Reads Newyorkshitty.com”. It read:
http://joshdrimmer.blogspot.com/2007/03/now-even-cats-in-williamsburg_08.html
This too does not surprise me. Very few things have the power shock or amaze me anymore. Living in Greenpoint has raised the bar. Every neighborhood has a reputation. Park Slope has its stroller moms. Boerum Hill appears to be turning into Watts. And Greenpoint has, well, Greenpointers. Which brings me to the following question:
Does living in Greenpoint gradually make one “off” or does this neighborhood simply attract odd people?
After trolling the newspaper archives of the New York Times I have concluded the answer is both. Let’s take this article from the January 2, 1980 edition of the New York Times, for example:
The above is a stunning example of “Greenpoint magic” at its very finest. How climbing the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center makes light of the Iran hostage crisis is beyond me. I am certain if I live here long enough it will eventually make sense. I can only hope so, anyway. Perhaps then I will cease to be a “poser“?
But let us make no mistake about it: Greenpoint has also attracted its fair share of special people over the years. Some will even hazard swimming across the East River to get here. Like the chap in this article from the April 6, 1935 edition of the New York Times:
Clearly this man is protesting Greenpoint’s lack of ferry service. I for one have no issue with Greenpoint’s dearth of public transportation options; if one is not willing to swim in the East River or shimmy up a water tower, he (or she) is not worthy of living in the Garden Spot. Plain and simple.
Miss Heather
The Campbell’s Comfy Chair
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Now that my fellow Greenpointers who were craving free bones (and you know who you are) have headed to the Polski Meat Market and picked some up, I am certain a number of them are wondering:
I have my bone, what do I do next?
May I recommend savoring your newly acquired comfort food while luxuriating in 111 Green Street’s very own comfy chair!
Not only is this chair stylish and roomy, but it is also located only steps away from 110 Green Street and is appointed with luxurious pork and bean upholstery for your al fresco dining pleasure.
Wow, just like mom used to make!
Miss Heather
Busy Night at 143 Huron Street
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I am just now enjoying the first semblance of peace and quiet I have had all evening. It is 11:13 p.m.
My evening was kicked off by my neighbor (who I have taken to calling Chatty Cathy) yammering to her friends on her cell phone. I regret to inform everyone that she and her boyfriend have broken up. She’s really upset about it too. I suppose that’s why she spent several hours recounting each and every painful detail to her numerous friends. Among them was her former boyfriend stating that he needed to “find himself”. It took every iota of restraint I had to keep from shouting out the window:
You’re ex-boyfriend is full of shit!
Eventually she saw fit to go back indoors and continue her (undoubtedly) very sad story. I suspect my shouting
If they do not stop making all that goddamn noise I am going to call the fucking police!
had something to do with this. This outburst was not directed at her (I am not the kind of person to call the cops on someone when he or she is down), rather, one of the neighboring landlords saw fit to employ an international coalition of idiots (Thanks for this one, Dategirl!) to do a little work on her building’s facade. Was there a permit posted sanctioning this? No, why should there be? In Greenpoint we don’t need no steeeenking permits. They finally saw fit to call it quits at 7:00 p.m. How very thoughtful of them.
Unfortunately, the chaps at 143 Huron were not so considerate. Despite being ordered by the Department of Buildings not to work after hours they were quite the busy (and noisy) beavers tonight. Imagine that. So on top of listening to my husband conduct a conference call regarding some I.T. meltdown at his place of employment, I also got to bask in the sound of sheet metal being cut and hammered.
After taking the above photo, I called 311. I explained to the operator that I have complained about them working after hours twice the previous month. I provided her the complaint numbers and she pulled up the records on her computer. Even she was confused by the following disposition given by the Department of Buildings.
As you can see, 143 Huron was issued a stop work order violation for “after hours work only”. My phone call to 311 was placed at 7:25 p.m. This is “after hours”. The operator asked me if they were still working and I assured her they were. See where I’m going here?
Another complaint was filed and I added it to the growing collection on my dry erase board. Remembering what a D.E.P. operator advised a fellow Greenpointer to do in such situations, I called the police. That came to pass at 7:30 p.m.
I waited, they worked.
LOUDLY.
At 7:54 p.m. I receive a call from the 94th Precinct. The woman tells me a squad car is there and the officers report they cannot hear anything. I begged to differ, so I threw on some sweat pants and walked over to 143 Huron. After acknowledging that yes, these men are making a lot of noise, I am told that the police cannot do anything about “construction matters” and that I should take it up with the Department of Buildings. I tell them I have. Repeatedly. In return I am assured they will “come by to inspect it eventually”. I go home.
The workers do not.
They finally decided to wind things down at 9:30 p.m. My husband got off the phone at 11:10 p.m. Which brings me back to where I am at right now. It is late. I am tired. Tired and very, very PISSED OFF.
Miss Heather
Polka Porn?
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Yesterday I found a real gem at the Salvation Army on Manhattan Avenue.
Even though I do not even own a record player, I shelled out the one dollar required to purchase this item and brought it home. Let’s just say it tickles my admittedly perverse fancy. First, you have a man and woman who look like they are going at it. Secondly, this image is flanked by canned ham, bread, a mug of beer and a number of rather phallic sausages, of which one has been sliced by a rather menacing looking knife. Kielbasa a la Bobbit!
But the best part, dear readers, cannot been seen in the above photo: it is the ad copy on the back. Here it is in all its glory. Warning: reading the following might induce night terrors and chronic bed wetting.
Shouldn’t that be Jack Stulak on the strumpet and David Pietrzak on the sexaphone?
The concept of “adults only” Polka brings to mind a number of things I could quite frankly do without. Polka key parties, Polka wife-swapping and Polka orgies, just to name a few. I can’t believe I just thought of Polka key parties. I must go now. I need to take a nice scalding hot shower and scrub the stain off my soul.
Miss Heather
UPDATE, 10/17/07: This morning I received an email from a new reader of New York Shitty. He writes:
Polish Songs Mama Never Taught Me: Give it to me and I’ll make a high-quality CD of it. Sounds amazing.
I have taken him up on his offer.
Putting the “Shit” In New York Shitty
I was forwarded this shitastic link by my fantastic buddy Judy over at Dategirl. It is so utterly stupid and revolting I have seen fit to feature it here on New York Shitty. I present to you, dear readers, a sampling from Diaper Free Adventures. An adventure in faux hippie crap trap and bad spelling:
My husband and I went to Williamsburg yesterday to get some good coffee at Verb and some militant vegan food at Foodswings. The L train was moderatley crowded with no seats left in which to sit, but not too many people standing. In these situations I do not do EC. I am too embarassed to take my son out of his carrier, unclip the potty from my bookbag, pull off his little gray sweatpants, open his diaper, lift him over the red potty and say, “Pssss. Pee-pee” into his ear.
This is beyond my comprehension:
- Verb coffee sucks ass. Their service is even worse.
- I am damned close to being a vegan, yet never profess to eat “militant vegan food”. This phrase even pisses me off.
- There are enough people, grown-ups no less, who piss on the L train as is. This woman’s entitled cunt dumpling does not need contribute to this nuisance.
Perhaps she is training her son to be a crazy homeless person? This would make sense given all the fucked shit she has probably (already?) filled his little head with and the state of the U.S. economy. After flunking out at the fry vat at Mickey D’s I am certain he’ll take to ranting and raving on Greenpoint Avenue like a natural. Pissing and shitting all over the place. Just like a pro. Just like mom taught him!
Pssss. Pee-pee!
Miss Heather
What Is Missing From This Picture?
Filed under: 11222, Abjectecture, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
Yesterday was a beautiful day. So much so I shook off my autumn doldrums and went for a walk. I am very, very happy I did. Read on and find out why.
When I reached 607 Manhattan Avenue I stopped. “Something is missing, but I just can’t put my finger on it.” I mused to myself.
Oh, that’s what it is. That hideous sign I have been ranting about for months has been removed! Wondering if the Department of Buildings had a hand in this most auspicious (and long awaited) event, I hightailed it home and checked out their web site.
THEY DID!!!
I would like to take a moment to thank the folks at the Department of Buildings for ordering the removal this of this hideous (and potentially dangerous) eyesore from my community. I’ve given your agency a real drubbing of late, but I believe in giving props for a job well done. Now, if S.P.I.T. would work its regulatory magic on 72 Norman Avenue, we’ll be all aces.
Miss Heather
Monday is Bone Day!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Any Greenpointers out there who loves them some bones, listen up.
Mondays are Bone Days at the Polski Meat Market. Those of you who are currently craving a bone (or two) should drop what you’re doing, head on down to 726 Manhattan Avenue and get you some! They’re totally FREE!!!
Polski Meat Market
726 Manhattan Avenue
Brooklyn, New York 11222
Be sure to tell them Miss Heather sent you.
Miss Heather
2007 BARC Dog Parade
Filed under: Area 51
I want to give a big ol’ New York Shitty shout-out to all the dapperly dressed dogs I marched with yesterday! My buddy Rachael and I had a lot of fun mixing with the pups (be they with four legs or two) while handing out Tootsie Rolls to the children. Unfortunately, marching while wearing a gas mask and digester tank bra render one unable to take pictures. (Hell, I could barely see where I was walking!) Such is the sacrifice one sometimes has to make for her art.
That said, my buddy over at The Gowanus Lounge shot a great set of photographs and a nifty short film. Check ’em out!
Miss Heather
NYS Flickr Pool
