A New York Shitty Exclusive: The Poo Corner Project

Earlier this month I shared the good news of a smart phone-sized (and curiously Kings County-shaped) pile of poo gracing the intersection of India and West Street (as seen at left in its replete fly-infested Greenpoint glory). I did so at the prompting of a tipster we’ll call “C”. She wrote:

I’m now naming India St between Franklin/West “poop alley”….someone either is pooping, has a huge dog, or cow on that street…theres like 50 loads.

I implored you, gentle readers, as to whom— or what— was responsible for these behemoth pieces of ordnance:

Does anyone amongst you, gentle readers, know who— or perhaps more appropriately what— is responsible for this? I’m intrigued.

I have received some very interesting leads as a result. One seems especially promising. It was with the person from whom I received this tip that I had a most interesting discussion. It basically went as follows:

1. Why does this person see fit to inflict these salvos of shit on his/her neighbors?
2. (following point #1) Does he/she think his/her neighbors simply do not notice? Given the rather foul perfume which permeates one’s nose upon reaching 32 India Street (the eastern perimeter of what I have since dubbed “Poo Corner”) I find this rather implausible.
3. (following points #1 and #2) Or does he/she not care?

I wanted— no, make that NEEDED— to know the answers to these questions. Thus I summoned my inner urban anthropologist/behaviorist to help me find an answer and in so doing the “Poo Corner Project” was born. Its basic principles/premises are as follows:

1. I am going to assume the party (parties?) responsible are under assumption that no one is troubled by these turds.
2. To correct this erroneous notion, I will circle and assign a number to each and every pile of poop I find in this area.
3. Each and every new mountain of merde henceforth will be circled, assigned a number and dated as to when I discover it.
4. Points #2 and #3 not only serve as some means of tracking the scat, but also to make it clear to their poopitrators that these annotations are not some random series of scribblings. I can assure you, this being Greenpoint, such a clarification is necessary.
5. All the previous points are predicated on the hope/expectation of observing how these errant dog owners will respond. Will they feel a sense of shame or persevere in their rather UN-neighborly behavior?

Thus far the results are rather compelling, if puzzling. Let’s review my preliminary findings as documented on November 12, 2011.


1. Fourteen “loads” were found.
2. The woman pushing the stroller in the background of #7 inquired as to what I was doing. I explained my project to her. She voiced her approval and added she once accidentally mired said stroller in one of these gargantuan dog bombs.
3. Upon recognizing that what I had on my hands (underfoot) was an archipelago of poop, I decided to roll with this concept regarding the rather impressive #10.

I call this piece “Booty” (for obvious reasons). Now let’s jump forward to November 14, 2011.

I observed in addition to unbagged poop someone has seen fit to bag— and yet dump— their dog’s poo in this area. I gave this an “A” for effort but “F” for follow-through.

Why would someone go to the trouble of bagging and not throwing this away in a garbage can?

I asked myself. Over and over.

I missed this somewhat weather-worn specimen. I assigned it a number but refrained from dating it.

Number 18 was discovered. Note its placement next to #11. And most curiously…

forty-eight hours later turd #13 has gone MIA. Once again, I asked myself:


November 15, 2011

Upon encountering two more “gift bags” of discarded doggie goodness I decided to ask the obvious question of its author:


In a similar (if reverse-psychologically motivated) move, I inquired as to the whereabouts of #13.

And lastly we have #19, as noted today November 15, 2011.


1. In terms of unbagged turdage, the growth rate stays at 0%.
However, it should be noted the gross rate has gone up significantly with #19 replacing #13.
Bagged turdage is, however, growing steadily.
4. Chalk needs to be left so as to facilitate a dialogue with these ne’er doo wells moving forward. No worries: it has been purchased.

To be continued…

Spotted On India Street: A Merde Mystery

A lady we’ll call “C” writes:

I’m now naming India St between Franklin/West “poop alley”….someone either is pooping, has a huge dog, or cow on that street…theres like 50 loads.

Does anyone amongst you, gentle readers, know who— or perhaps more appropriately what— is responsible for this? I’m intrigued.

UPDATE, November 8, 2011: A chap we’ll call “T” writes:

Last year I stumbled upon a gigantic mega turd even bigger than that on Huron and West. I watched its progress every morning for 12 months. IT IS STILL THERE…albeit diminished. I’d be more than happy to send you a picture of its current state so that you know what you can look forward to

All I can say is… WOW.

A Greenpoint Raccoon Fact: Gutters Make Good Shitters

A lady we call “C” writes (in regards to this post):

So – raccoons AND poop! During the summer of 2010, we had a raccoon who would climb up our fire escape 3 floors to the roof of our building and then poop in our rain gutter. Seriously!

We have a few stray cats who live in the backyard, so I guess he was looking for a safe place to poop away from them. It didn’t appear that he hung out on the roof to eat or sleep.

We called around and were ready to have someone trap him, but then we never saw him again. We’re on Huron. Maybe he moved to Mark Bar?

This just keeps getting better and better folks. In any case after a cursory search it would appear that raccoon roof-shitting is, in fact, not that uncommon. Who knew?

New York Shitty Photos du Jour: A Jersey Street PSA

October 1, 2011 ·
Filed under: 10012, Dung of the Day, New York City, Other Shit, SoHo, SoHo Manhattan 

Taken September 29, 2011.

From The New York Shitty Inbox, Part II: Special Delivery

A person we’ll call “M” writes (in an email entitled “Park Slope Pooper”):

Hi Miss H,

As you noticed from my facebook status, I had a close-up shitty encounter in my building vestibule today. I thought you might appreciate the lowdown.

The initial sighting was upon leaving the apartment a little after noon. The vestibule is between two supposedly locked doors. The first door is between the street and the mailboxes and a couple of non-live work spaces (both of which are currently rented). And the second separates the vestibule from the stairway to the apartments within.

The outer door is malfunctioning. Again. Last time, I had a renewal credit card stolen and some happy thief charged themselves a few trinkets and some flashy new duds. The time before, a mail-order purchase never arrived, or more likely it was stolen. But this time, I got the prize.

Poop. A big, smelly blob of shit and a couple of shit-streaked paper towels strewn nearby, icing on the freakin’ cake.

The best thing about this is, there is no super or landlord onsite. Anything that happens on the weekend, you are, pardon the pun, SOL. If you want the poop cleaned up, you’re doing the cleaning. Unless you want step over a pile of feces all weekend.

I have several neighbors, but unless everyone stayed in their homes this morning, they must have seen, and just stepped over the offensive pile. Someone had sprayed a copious amount of lemon-scented air freshener in the hallway (it was needed) but no one had bothered to even contact the landlord about the incident prior to my doing so. Sadly, this “someone will take care of it” attitude is common in my building and my rapidly-changing neighborhood. Yea, someone else. Notes posted in the hall and repeated emails to each tenant instructing them to shut the “security” door firmly and make sure it is fastened properly, have fallen on deaf ears.

So, while holding my breath and with multiple layers of makeshift plastic bags as “gloves” protecting my hands, I cleaned up the disgusting human waste and poured disinfectant on the toilet-spot. But before I did so, I snapped these shots that I thought you would appreciate. Excuse the blurriness, but I was fighting off a stench that surpasses that of Newtown Creek after the rains.

Now that the Park Slope Pooper has found vestige in my vestibule, what can I anticipate finding tomorrow morning?

Feel free to post my sad tale, and please keep my identity/contact info confidential.

Happy Saturday!

Right back at ya, M!

Miss Heather

A Vincent V. Abate Playground Update: Still There!

August 16, 2011

August 17, 2011

It would appear the Abate poo pile (replete with asswipe!) has proven problematic to one playground user. Whoops.

Miss Heather

New York Shitty Photo du Jour: From North 12 Street With Love

Today yours truly saw a number of remarkable things while knocking around north Brooklyn, but this item (which is located in front of The Residences at The Williamsburg) takes the cake. Whether the medium is the message is anyone’s guess. Speaking for myself, I am less curious as to the “why” behind this as the “how”.

Miss Heather

From The New York Shitty Inbox: Breakfast At McGolrick Park

Catherine (who captured the above gem) writes:

Saw this while walking my dog this morning!

It would appear the first two courses of this al fresco meal have been consumed by one of our fellow citizens. Whether or not this gourmand sports two legs or four is anyone’s guess. In any case, Dzien dobry from Greenpoint, Brooklyn U.S.A. Also known as the Garden Spot of the Universe!

Miss Heather

Live From Dupont Street: Green Sweep Greenpoint

So today was the big day: Green Sweep Greenpoint. I got up nice and early, did a little work around the house and made it to Red Star Bar right on time.  We had to wait a bit because the establishment’s proprietor, Eric, had a flat tire but soon enough we got down to business. Ed Veneziano (the proprietor of Cato’s Army Navy Store and co-chair of the Greenpoint Business Alliance) read out a list of block captains and then inquired as to whether there were any volunteers present. There was one. He then asked yours truly where I had planned to focus my garbage eradication efforts. My reply was as follows:

Dupont Street between Franklin and the sludge tank because it pisses me off.

As many of you have probably ascertained, I am not the kind of person to mince words. This is especially true when I am operating on (maybe) six hours of sleep. On that note I would like to apologize here and now to anyone at this morning’s convocation who had children in tow. I was not trying to be insensitive. Rather, the condition of this particular stretch of road infuriates me to no end. Soon enough, gentle readers, you will learn why.

We collected our garbage bags (I took four), put on our gloves and went our respective ways. I noted to my friend Teresa that I was going to be an “army of one” waging war against trash this morning— and that’s the way I wanted it.

Upon arrival I quickly sized up the situation. I quickly ascertained I had several types of litter to contend with. They were as follows:

1. Residential (as seen at left)

2. Construction debris

3. Discarded automotive parts/products

4. Trappings of a homeless colony (including— but by no means limited to— empty liquor bottles and food containers).

I decided to tackle the latter most first. Roughly forty five minutes into the task at hand my efforts began to get noticed. First it was by two very friendly workers from the adjacent DEP facility (as seen at right).  The driver said my efforts were laudable and then went on to explain that sadly people will only return and add more trash. When I asked him for specifics, he told me that men frequently work on their cars along  this stretch and simply toss aside their unwanted hubcaps, anti-freeze containers, etc. What I discovered as I was cleaning later on supports this chap’s assertion.

Once I had two bags ready (and realized they were really, really heavy) I called Eric to come by and pick them up (so as to to take them to the garbage container secured for the day). When he and Ed arrived I had four bags waiting. They were quite impressed. That’s when I confessed that I had only filled two bags myself; someone prior to my arrival was thoughtful enough to leave two large bags filled with sheet rock to make me look “good”.

When they finished loading the aforementioned bags I took them on a little tour. What they found of particular interest was the fire pit (as seen at left). We quickly ascertained what (or I suppose who) found their way into it: nearby we found two boxes which had clearly contained chickens. Live chickens— or as I put it to Ed: EX-chickens. They went on their way and I continued working.

A man of (maybe) 18 years of age asked me if I was clearing the area for a garden. I answered to the negative but added that having a garden at this location is a wonderful idea. He admonished me to be careful and then proceeded to walk off while lighting a joint.  That’s when I made the first of several incredibly repulsive discoveries:

Yes folks, that there is an value-added tampon! I also found (in no particular order):

1. One condom wrapper (empty)

2. One condom wrapper (unused)

3. One condom (soiled)

Next to the latter most I found ( at right) 4.

I suspect I speak on the behalf of many people reading this tome when I write that really, truly hope this item was used in concert with the aforementioned condom. Call me jaded but there is something about kinky clown sex transpiring in the shadow of a sludge tank that yours truly finds almost charming. The key word in the previous sentence being almost.

5. No less than three bloody rags.

6. And of course what would any trash pick-up be without a shit-filled diaper?

Here you go!

7. And I suppose I should mention one thing I did not find: drug paraphernalia. I was quite surprised by this.

After two more people stopped and asked me if I was clearing the area for a garden (once again I said no but that I was growing to like the idea) I was left alone and started to get bored. Fortunately being an only child has made me very adept at finding ways to entertain myself.

I decided moving forward I was going to play amateur urban anthropologist. My project would be to determine the drinking patterns of the people who use this area as their personal landfill. It was just like something out of National Geographic except instead of arrow heads I was in search of fifths, forties and airplane bottles. These I arranged rather artfully for everyone’s edification and christened the end product “The Dupont Street Drinking Museum”.

Although I didn’t keep count, beer (especially Corona and Budweiser) was the beverage of choice by pretty significant margin (I’d hazard to guess two to one). Following that came all manner and variety of distilled spirits. Vodka and rum were the peoples’ choice. Wine came in dead last with two paltry bottles. I will leave you, dear readers, to draw your own conclusions as to what this data means.

In any case I continued working and found myself getting a bit peckish. No worries: someone was thoughtful enough to leave me some snacks!

Here’s the deal folks: I could continue outlining in explicit detail everything I saw while cleaning Dupont Street this morning. Instead I am going to leave you with a slide show and a few thoughts:

  1. We have a chronic littering problem here.
  2. The question is how do we go about changing this.
  3. Given the interest shown today by passersby in clearing this space and creating, say, a community garden I’d say that may very well be the way to go. If anyone reading tome this agrees with me (and would be interested in making this happen) please shoot me an email at: missheather (at) thatgreenpointblog (dot) com.
  4. In order to get the ball rolling I am going to reach out to a few elected officials and see how we can turn this block into something our community can be proud of. If and/or when I have any news on this front, I will pass it along here.

Miss Heather

Greenpoint Photos du Jour: Better Homes & Garbage, Part II

(Or: India Street Revisited)

As I have written previously, the soon-to-be initiated India Street ferry service has some serious safety concerns to address. Foremost among these is the fact the block from which it will disembark is desolate and uninhabited.

Sort of. The first thing I noticed when I swung by this morning is only one solitary trailer remains. As you can see it has undergone some renovations. Namely, having the door removed and a cheerful blue blanket hung it its place.

We would appear to have two inhabitants.

Once again the presence of reading material was noted. It appears that we have a baseball fan on our hands. I wonder if he/she is a Mets or Yankees fan?

Yours truly was really impressed with the array of healthy foodstuffs. Milk, fruit juice, apples, peanut butter and canned fruit were observed. And last— but hardly least— let’s inspect the crapper!

This pied-a-terre is appointed with (to bastardize Black Adder):

…the latest in fresh air orifices combined with asphalt.

In other words: you shit on the street.

Miss Heather

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