Intimation of Gentrification: Troutman Street

Living in north Brooklyn I am often confronted with the question as to what constitutes gentrification. More specifically, I ask myself exactly what are the warning signs a neighborhood is poised to shed its rags and earn the kind of respect afforded to localities brandishing bratty babes that publicly piss on trees? It is an excellent question. And I think I found the answer on Troutman Street.

You know your neighborhood is well on its way to becoming an affluenzic breeder Valhalla when the local tagger’s nom de guerre is a childhood behavioral disorder.

Miss Heather

P.S.: I wonder where “Chronic Bed Wetter” bombs the ‘hood? I suppose I should just follow my nose.

Bushwick Photo du Jour: Greene Avenue

Anyone who has experienced elementary school English knows there is something seriously wrong with this sign: Peper Bros Isn’t. Nothing breaks my heart more than sloppy grammar.

Miss Heather

Bushwick Photo du Jour: Troutman Street

A long time ago I was a real estate agent. During my brief sojourn into this hellish career decision I became acquainted with a certain type of client: the person who simply must live in a building with a doorman. Mind you, I have nothing whatsoever against doormen. Most are very nice chaps. What I do not like, however, is the kind of person who feels he or she must be waited on hand and foot. And I learned yesterday I am not the only person who bears this sentiment.

If any of you are shopping for an apartment in doorman building in Bushwick, don’t waste your time with 287 Troutman Street.

And yes that means U.

Miss Heather

Happy Year of the Rat from New York Shitty!

As you are out celebrating this, the year dedicated to one of Miss Heather’s favorite animals, make sure you don’t end up like this poor ratticus bushwickus. Whether it be knocking back a fifth of brandy or doing bag of blow: do so responisbly.

Miss Heather

Bushwick Photo du Jour: NO PARKING

On Wednesday, January 31, 2008 I wrote:

One thing I throughly detest is the practice of erecting copious amounts of “Beware of Dog” and “No Parking” signage on residential property. Not only are they an eyesore, but there usually is not a canine on said premises and if someone is a big enough asshole to park in front of your driveway a twelve by eighteen inch piece of plastic is not going to deter him.

Bucking conventional wisdom, the residents at 96 Bleecker Street have seen fit erect one such sign.

And as I so sagely prognosticated, it netted the usual results.

Miss Heather

Bushwick Photo du Jour: Wyckoff Avenue

The Jefferson Street stop of the L sports some of the jauntiest storefronts yours truly has seen in a very long time. Take Guerrero’s Violation Removal. If I ever have the need for an architect, engineer, plumber or contractor this is where I am going. Is it the cactus beckoning at the front door, the Piet Mondrian-esque front door or the festive mural? Methinks it is the mural: I never knew New York City had a waterfall. Fuck Coney Island: next summer I am packing my beach towel, bathing suit and Coppertone and coming here.

Miss Heather

Bushwick Photo du Jour: Won’t You Be His Neighbor?

Is anyone out there looking for:

• Some palettes?
• An automotive fender?
• A magazine rack?
• A couple of 4 by 12s?
• A large print Bible?
• A Mr. Rogers record (featuring the smash hit “You Can Never Go Down the Drain”)?

If so, I am pleased to announce that this lot on Broadway has everything you need…

and much, much more!

Poor Mr. Rogers. He wanted a place of his own and look what he got: thrown onto the trash heap. To quote what a very wise man once said in the movie Better Off Dead:

Now that’s a real shame when folks be throwin’ away a perfectly good white boy like that.

Have you no shame, Bushwick?!? That’s okay Fred, we Greenpointers will be more than happy to be your neighbor.

Miss Heather

Has Anyone Seen Poffy?

I found the above flier while walking down Harmon Street yesterday afternoon. As a number of you are probably aware, this makes two stolen Maltese dogs in the span of one week. Although this may sound kooky to some I am getting the distinct impression there are people in our fine borough who make their livelihood by stealing and selling dogs.

If any of you have seen Poffy please contact her rightful owner at the above phone number. The practice of stealing pets like they are so much chattel is disgusting. Seriously folks, this needs to stop.

Miss Heather