From The New York Shitty Inbox: A Nice Place To Shit?

Once in a blue moon I receive a query that confounds even me. Yesterday I found myself in just such a position. Without further ado here it is. JJ writes:

Miss Heather,

am soon to be resident of the Greenpoint area and I wonder if there are any nice parks for my dog to shit in?  You see, she is a north country gal and is not accustomed to pooping on concrete.  I’d also like to avoid her peeing in the middle of the sidewalk too.  If I could take her to a nice park to take a dump she will be happier and I don’t have to be seen scraping doggy bombs off the sidewalk (I am a responsible pet owner who firmly believes that some shit is best left unseen).

Gracias!

Soon to be Brooklynite

Straight-up: I am not a dog owner. I love dogs— and all animals for that matter— but I have to admit this is something I profess to have no knowledge of whatsoever, e.g.; where a cement shy pup would like to poop. I have been and probably always will be a “cat person”. In addition I’m not terribly certain what JJ means by a “nice” park. Personally (and mind you I am writing this as a homo sapiens) I think quality park space is something Greenpoint sorely lacks. But I suppose there’s something to be said about McGolrick or Cooper. If any Garden Spot dog owners out there has advice for JJ please tender it in the comments. Thanks!

Miss Heather

P.S.: For those of you who are wondering, the photograph gracing the beginning of the post does not hail from Greenpoint. It comes from Wooster Street in Soho. Not only was it a pretty remarkable melange of feces and detritus, but I can attest it smelled twice as bad as it looked. It too was much better left unseen— and sniffed!

New York Shitty Day Starter: Sh*t In The Box

Yesterday I took a sojourn somewhere I have never ventured before: the wilderness of the Long Island City/Ravenswood waterfront around the 59th Street Bridge. It is not an area one would consider attractive.

At least not in a conventional sense of the word. Given the previous you can imagine my surprise when I encountered a hotel at the intersection of Vernon Boulevard and Queens Plaza South: the Ravel whose web site purports it be  “Long Island City’s First Luxury Boutique Hotel”. This may very well be the case, I wouldn’t know. But I can tell you I found its proximity to the Queensbridge Houses of particular interest. Curiously enough the folks at Ravel do not make mention of this on their web site. So it goes.

Long Island City is full of surprises. I certainly learned this yesterday. First it is a “luxury boutique hotel” across from a housing project, then it was this on 44th Street: a construction site for yet another hotel.

But this is not the only thing going on here. Which brings me to the item indicated by the above arrow. It is a box.

A very, very special box…

or to use Long Island City parlance (to bastardize Black Adder):

The very latest in front-wall, fresh-air orifices appointed with an imported wide-capacity corrugated repository.

Miss Heather

East Williamsburg Photos Du Jour: The Shittiest Car in North Brooklyn?

As the previous post indicates, I have been experiencing a great deal of existentialist boredom of late. This is not to suggest I have seen it all. I haven’t— nor do I really care to. My imagination suffices. Nonetheless there are times when I am quickly and rudely awakened from my waking somnambulism. Today as I was walking down Ten Eyck Street was once such time.

When I see something like this I assure myself there must be a reasonable explanation. The best one I could muster in this situation was this vehicle was on the business end of a cement mixer. Upon closer inspection I deduced this was not the case.

No sir. This is 100% genuine north Brooklyn guano!

I find it strangely inspiring that no matter how much abuse we humans dole out to mother earth, she sees fit to strike back on occasion. In this case via the humble Columba livia. You go, girl!

Miss Heather

From The New York Shitty Inbox: A Very Special Request

As you can probably imagine I receive a number of very interesting requests in my inbox. Methinks this one (which arrived this morning) may very well take the cake. It comes a graduate student no less. He/she writes:

My name is (excised) and I’m a grad student at the Pratt Institute (Environmental Management Systems) enrolled in a “Solid Waste Management” class. Our coursework involves creating a “zero waste” plan for McCarren Park. As an initial step we’re attempting to inventory and classify sources of waste in the park, and one of those sources is of course doggy poo. I’m working with my colleague (excised), who is copied on this email.

We’d like to come up with an estimate how much volume of dog poo we’re dealing with. Do you have any sense of how many “hits” this dog park gets on an average day? Do know someone who might have any helpful stats on this?

Thanks in advance for any info you might be willing to share.

Yes this site was initially premised on the dog shit problem on my community. But— in this is a big but— over the (almost) four years I have operated New York Shitty, its subject matter has expanded tremendously. I rarely feature dog doo on this site anymore (with the occasional exception of charmers like the one gracing the beginning of this post which I recently found on Berry Street. The hearts are a nice touch.). I am simply too busy. What’s more, I have better things to do than count turds. Especially in sub-freezing weather.

Nonetheless, I want to be helpful. I too was a graduate student once. Granted, I never had to aggregate turds— but I sculpted quite a few. A number of them were quite convincing. To this end I have forwarded this person’s request to a few folks I suspect will be in the know. I would also like input from you, my readers. How much dog shit do you think is in McCarren Park on any given day? You can tender your estimate via comments or email at: missheather (at) thatgreenpointblog (dot) com. I will forward your responses.

I thank you in advance for your immediate attention to this matter.

Miss Heather

New York Shitty Day Starter: Aw @#$%

January 20, 2010 ·
Filed under: 11211, Dog Shit, Dung of the Day, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn 

From North 7 Street.

Miss Heather

Going Native: My Trip To The Nature Walk

I have a confession to make: I’ve been in the dumps lately. Methinks this is probably due to post-holiday malaise and winter doldrums. The short, cold days and long, even colder nights do not sit well with my outdoorsy constitution. For these reasons I have endeavored get away from the computer, focus more on my own artistic endeavors* and get out when the weather and opportunity presents itself.This post is dedicated to the destination of today’s foray: The Newtown Creek Nature Walk.

While not everyone’s idea of how to beat the wintertime blues, The Newtown Creek Nature Walk has proven (for yours truly, anyway) to be a very effective diversion from whatever is bothering me. Granted, I may not leave any less bothered than when I came in— but my mind will invariably be on something else. This time around was no exception.

This plaque (which can be found at Paidge Avenue and Provost Street) immediately piqued my interest. Of what “plant growth” bearing medicinal qualities do these people speak? I can think of a few species of plant life which would make this park popular beyond its creator’s wildest imagination. Not that the D.E.A. would take a fond view of them, mind you. But I digress.

As I proceeded towards the entrance the reason for the previous caveat become apparent.

A series of plaques have been erected educating the patrons of the Nature Walk as to what tree and/or bush they are looking at and its medicinal and/or culinary uses.

Speaking as someone who has actually met people who crab and fish off of Newtown Creek and the East River— and eat their catch— making these (in all likelihood) same suck f0lk aware that roasted acorns served with syrup are a “delicacy” strikes me as being an excruciatingly bad idea. If the previous folk have little regard for mercury and other heavy metals they cannot see and/or taste, I can assure you this diminutive tree is fair game.

Amusingly (and appropriately) enough, a significant amount of the foliage identified have purgative qualities.

Many of you are familiar with the structure in the background of this photo: they are the digester “eggs” for this waste treatment facility. They are better known to the locals as the “Shit Tits”. But did you know the tree in front of them is an elderberry tree?

Now you do! For the most part I was satisfied with my Nature Walk experience this afternoon. For. The. Most. Part.

The steps leading to Newtown Creek proper were quite frankly— and this is by Greenpoint standards— pretty darned gross.

Bird shit was in abundance.

A mammalian specimen was spied as well.

But what I found especially disturbing were the bones. I found many.

And then of course, there was the blood.

When I see stuff such as the previous it makes me wonder exactly how this park is being utilized. Is the citizenry of Greenpoint getting back in touch with the ‘nabe’s bucolic roots? Are rental properties and health insurance so prohibitively expensive as to make “going native” on the waterfront a viable option?

I’ll leave it up to you, dear readers, to decide.

Miss Heather

*Which I will go into later.

Dung of the Day: Reading is Fundamental

This weekend I bumped into my buddy Beatrice, the lovely lady and former proprietress of Casa Mon Amour. After much catching up she busted my chops for deviating from my web site’s initial premise: shit. I explained to her that there is so much of interest going on in our humble ‘burgh that merde has fallen by the wayside. What’s more, over the years I have become much more selective about the scatological specimens I feature.

southchina

Luckily for her I found I most tantalizing tableau today right next door to the Viridian* at the South China Import Company! I will start with the arrow at far left.

shit

Someone (or something) had a problem.

vibes

An attempt was made to clean up the problem using a flier advertising a summer shindig in Bridgeport, Connecticut: Gathering of the Vibes.

milan

When this failed our intrepid pooper scooper used what was at hand. In this case, a paperback copy of Milan Kundera’s Book of Laughter and Forgetting.

book

Am I the only person who finds this sort of depressing?

Miss Heather

*Whose craftsmanship, I assure you, is stellar as ever.

shims

shacks

I have no idea what this is about— and truth be told I don’t think I want to know. What I can tell you is it obstructs the sidewalk and I am none too happy about it.

shackattack

Yes sir. I imagine this piece of affordable housing will find a tenant in no time!

From The New York Shitty Inbox: Scheissegeist

As I have operated this web site over the years I have noticed a great many trends. A collective Internet consciousness, if you will. For example, I have noticed that summer seems to be the season of choice for churlish commenters. As for bat-shit craziness/troll-like activity, one need only peruse emails which are sent after midnight. The wee hours of the night are when the online troglodytes come out to play. Today’s theme— if my inbox is any indication— is this.

P1060767

Yup.

Queens Crap (who sent me this delightful item) writes (in an email entitled “An early Christmas present for you”):

Happy Holidays!

After I managed, albeit barely, to keep my lunch in my down I asked where this came from. The fine people of Queens will be pleased as punch to know this VERY failed pair of training pants hails from the intersection of Greene and Grandview Avenue in Ridgewood. But merde is not exclusively an affliction of my friends across the creek. It is a five borough affair— and as I learned today no one does it better than Garden Spot of the Universe. Which brings me to another email I received today:

Xris (of Flatbush Gardener) writes (in an email entitled “Great Greenpointers in Current Events”):

Thought you might enjoy this Greenpoint item from the Brooklyn Eagle: Elderly Pickpocket Has No Fingerprints.

What does sporting a set of sticky fingers have to do with a pair of shit-smeared underwear, you ask? Click the above link and find out. I dare you.

Miss Heather

Crosstown Local Photo Du Jour: Welcome Home

As the delay in today’s postage indicates I spent the day knocking around north Brooklyn. Days such as this one will become fewer and fewer as we bravely march towards winter. I make it a point to enjoy them while I can. And enjoy the day I did. That is, until I exited the G train at India Street.

poop

It would appear that one of our fellow Greenpointers has experienced an acute fit of gastronomic distress. For those of you who are wondering (and you know who you are), it smelled even worse than it looks. It must have felt pretty darned good to have purged this from his (her?) body: the perpetrator saw fit to light up afterward. Nice.

Miss Heather

P.S.: This is gross— even by G train standards.

Last Gasp: Remember to Vote Tomorrow!

Did you know Mike Bloomberg is running for mayor? If the numerous fliers and callers/hipster hitters of buzzers didn’t remind you of this fact maybe my answering machine (and inbox) will!

Just 24 more hours, dear readers, and it will be over.

Miss Heather

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