Greenpoint
Cafe Cito Bogota
Williamspoint Photos Du Jour: Pre-Valentine’s Day Revue, Part II
I enjoyed putting together yesterday’s selection of pre-Valentine’s Day goodness so much I have decided to hit you up with some more snaps of love north Brooklyn style.
From Noble Street.
I can safety state that this is the only upbeat missive I have found on a Real Housewives of New York City subway poster.
Almost seven years later Carlito is still missed on South 3rd Street.
Love’s a poppin’ all over the place on Hope Street! Feeling lonely this upcoming weekend? Don’t despair, make your way over to Maria’s Deli.
The word on Diamond Street is they serve a lot more than just sandwiches.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Photos Du Jour: Life On Mars
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Follow are a few shots from a film shoot I stumbled upon yesterday while out for walk. Enjoy!
A most unexpected feast on Milton Street.
Trucks aplenty.
In all the years I have lived here I do not think I have ever seen this garage door open.
There were a slew of cool old cars on Noble Street. This Corvair was hands-down my favorite!
Much was afoot on Franklin Street.
This is not to suggest it was all work and no play on the Life On Mars set. These chaps were clearly having a good time while catching a few rays on Noble Street!
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Photos Du Jour: MORE SNOW!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Green Street.
India Street.
Java Street.
Kent Street.
Franklin Street.
Noble Street.
Miss Heather
Greenwick Photos Du Jour: Signs Of The Times
McGuinness Boulevard
Noble Street
Manhattan Avenue
Starr Street
Miss Heather
Winter Wonderland!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
If there’s one time Greenpoint really shines it is when it is has a nice dusting of snow. For this reason I am going to share with you some photographs I took of yesterday’s snowstorm. Enjoy!
Be sure to check out the neat pix Rowan5 took of Bushwick inlet as well. They can be found in the New York Shitty photo pool. They’re worth the point and click!
Miss Heather
A Few Events Of Interest For Our Jewish Friends
As many of you are aware Hanukkah kicks off this Sunday, December 21. Follow are a couple of events our fellow friends of the book might find of interest from Greenpoint and beyond.
First up, Greenpoint’s very own Congregation Ahavas Israel will be kicking things off a celebration this upcoming Sunday starting at 5:00 p.m. For the price of your $20.00 admission ($10.00 for the young ‘uns) you’ll get live music, dancing, dreydel games and latkes for your delectation. Yum!
Hanukkah Celebration
December 21, 2008, 5:00 p.m.
Ahavas Israel
109 Noble Street
Brooklyn, New York 11222
Those of you seeking festivities of the more unconventional kind (or simply like anything featuring Mexican bandits) will undoubtedly find this item (which yours truly found posted in the door of Christina’s Restaurant.
The details about this revue are pretty scant on Heeb Magazine’s web site. However, I’d gladly fork over $20.00 for an hour of free margaritas and to see anyone calling themselves Strip Dreidel and the Kinky Jews out of sheer principle. What’s more, this sounds like a helluva lot of fun!
HEEBONISM
December 24, 2008 9:00 p.m. – 3:00 a.m. (That’s Christmas Eve to you and me.)
Fontana’s
105 Eldridge Street
New York, New York 10002
Miss “I don’t need no stinking badge” Heather
UPDATE, 4:50 p.m.: I received an email from one of the wizards over at Heeb Magazine with a most interesting clarification regarding this event. Brian writes:
Hey, you guys.
I really appreciate the plug for our party. Thanks a mill. Let me know if you guys want to come, and I’ll get you on our list.
Though I should clarify: “Strip Dreidel with Kinky Jews” isn’t a band. Rather we are actually having some hornball kosher kids play a game that involves, yes, taking their clothes off.
And there will be gift bags galore. Free Silver Bullet vibrators from Babeland. Get there early to nab ‘em.
Thanks again, Shitty people!
It doesn’t get much better than this folks.
‘Tis The Season: The Noble Street Reingoose
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Last year this fella only sported a pair of antlers. I have to say the addition of the golden tinsel is an inspired touch. But how could I honestly expect anything less from a person whose Halloween decorations included dismembered dolls and Teletubbies?
Miss Heather
White Birds Can’t Jump
On Saturday, February 2, 2008 I wrote:
I suspect it is safe to speculate that a number of the people reading this post are busy getting ready for this weekend’s Superbowl festivities. While I think it is pretty neat that New York made it this year, I am not big on sports and will probably find some other way to amuse myself.
Well, as luck would have it, I didn’t have to try very hard to find a way to pass my time. Yesterday, while most people were tapping kegs, rolling out the crudites, ripping open bags of potato chips and prepping French onion dip, I was standing watch over a chicken.
Yes, you read me correctly: a chicken.
This chicken — who somehow found her (?) way onto Milton Street.
As with most days when I get hit with a mindfuck a minute, it all started innocently enough: with an argument with Mr. Heather. At noon I arose to find him on the computer, as is his usual habit. I notice a take-out container on the coffee table. I open it: inside is one cubic inch of red velvet cake. Recognizing this confection as being the one we purchased at Kombit the evening before, I asked:
How was the cake?
Mr. Heather: It was terrible. Way too dry.
When I encounter a culinary item I find distasteful I rarely endeavor to eat all but one bite. If I do not like something I will cease eating it. Mr. Heather— for reasons known only to him— is not so easily deterred. I did not ask him why he left only one minuscule chunk of cake, that would have invited a lengthy explanation which I, having just awakened, was probably not prepared for. I go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee instead.
Thereafter I proceeded to the bedroom to change clothes. Mr. Heather was busy preparing a load of laundry. Under the impression we were going for a walk (this was agreed upon the night before) I ask him what he is doing. He replies:
I am going to do a load of laundry.
Me: I thought we were going for a walk.
Mr. Heather: I thought you could help me do some laundry first.
Me: Um, no.
Mr. Heather: Well, can’t you wait?
Me: No.
I will spare you the gory details of what followed. Suffice it to say it involved a lot of passive-aggressive manipulation on the Mister’s part. Disgusted, I offered a compromise:
Fine, I will go to Williamsburg and cash out a gift certificate. You can meet me there later. I don’t want you going with me anyway. I am not in the mood to hear you curse about hipsters every fucking five feet.
And lo, a deal was made! I put on my coat and headed to Willy B on foot. When I reached Milton Street, this is what I found:
A pack of tweeners and a woman looking at a chicken.
Having never seen a chicken before (save perhaps on their dinner plate) the children took great delight in chasing her. She was not as enthusiastic and elected to hide behind a dumpster.
When one of these gutter snipes shouted “Let’s put it on a raft and dump it in the East River!” I decided it was time for action: I called 311. Before I continue I’d like to say a few things about 311. Having the pleasure of living in Greenpoint, which can best be described as being in a state of (an over) development free for all, I have called them on numerous occasions. The operators, always courteous, vary wildly in regards to their ability to direct me to the proper agency. This time proved to be no exception.
Call #1
Me: Yes, I’d like to report that there is a chicken wandering around on Milton Street between Franklin and West.
Operator: What?
Me: There is a chicken loose on Milton Street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. A number of young boys are tormenting it. Can you get someone down here to pick it up?
Operator: Is the chicken injured?
Me: I don’t know. It’s walking around but isn’t very happy.
After being put on hold with the Center for Animal Care and Control for over five minutes I got frustrated and hung up.
Call #2
Me: I know this is going to sound really strange, but there is a chicken at large on Milton Street between Franklin and West. A number of preteen boys are chasing it, can the C.A.C.C. please come by and retrieve it?
Operator: Is the chicken injured?
Me: Beats me, I don’t know anything about chickens.
Operator: I am going to forward your request to the local precinct and they’ll follow it up.
As I got off the phone I noticed the woman with me was engaged in a shouting match with the “parent” who was charged with “supervising” these pack of prepubescent p(h)ucks. Larry, in the meantime, had seen fit to enter the basketball court. Knowing that we had him cornered, the woman and I stood watch over him.
Five minutes go by. My fellow Samaritan calls the 94th Precinct directly* and reports Larry Bird. The operator assures her a police car is on the way.
We watch the chicken.
Fifteen minutes come to pass, she calls the 94th Precinct again. After informing the operator that she has been waiting fifteen minutes for the police to show up, she was told she has only been waiting for five minutes.
We (continue to) watch the chicken. Larry Bird— cornered, confused and cute— tries to keep warm.
Twenty minutes later the police arrived and with them came the crowning coup de grace: they were the same officers who detained me last December for taking photographs of Christmas Decorations. I had told the woman standing guard with me about this incident (people tend to engage in discussions when guarding a chicken, it makes the time go by faster when waiting for the 94th to arrive) and of all things, she happened to be a photographer.
Me: Aw shit.
Woman: What?
Me: Those are the cops who detained me. If you don’t mind, I’m getting out of here. I do not want to talk to these people. You can handle it, right?
Woman: Sure, go.
And go I did. FAST.
Wherever you are little Larry Bird, I hope you are safe and sound. Perhaps you’ll find your way to a nice animal sanctuary upstate where you can shoot hoops in peace.
Miss Heather
*Because I know the phone number for the 94th Precinct by rote memorization and gave it to her. Long story.
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