Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Nimrod Station: Williamsburg Vs. Greenpoint
One poster, two different worlds on the crosstown local.
My mother dislikes my constant shutter bugging. Usually because it entails documenting things she considers distasteful and takes away from valuable shopping time. I, on the other hand, will gladly spend time (instead of money) savoring the best the G train has to offer in the way of subway poster vandalism. Such things make Miss Heather’s world go round.
Exhibit A: the Queens-bound platform of the G at Metropolitan Avenue, Williamsburg
One restless patron waiting for the crosstown local saw fit to inscribe the above poster with a little political commentary.
To wit, one of his teammates, Number 41, replies
Exhibit B: the Queens-bound platform of the G at Greenpoint Avenue, Greenpoint
After noting the exposed pudenda on the poster to the left, they got right down to business.
Number 13 is date material.
Number 37 placed, but Number 32 got the blue ribbon.
Oh wait, it was number 25, not 37. Nimrod 34 might have been deemed as “ugs”,
but he won Mr. Congeniality.
See what depths of depravity we G train patrons wallow in while waiting for the subway? After tiring of trying to overthrow the government, we take simple solace in cradle robbing.
Miss Heather
Dignified Dog Shit Signage
Filed under: Dog Shit Signage
There are assholes, and then there are ASSHOLES. What’s the difference, you ask?
Only the latter would leave their dog’s shit in front of a fucking funeral parlor. Checking out the open casket remains of some doggie’s dinner just before attending your loved one’s funeral strikes me as being one of the most undignified things I can think of— save perhaps letting your dog take a crap IN the coffin. If the above sign and Cobble Hill’s illustrious neighbor’s Yahoo group are any indication, anything goes in this lawless section of Brooklyn.
I have lived in Greenpoint, a neighborhood with quite a dog shit problem, for some time. During that time I have never, EVER seen a “curb your dog sign” posted in the window of any of our local funeral parlors. What the fuck is wrong with you, Cobble Hill? Is everybody calls the Bergen Street stop (of the F or G) home on crack?
Miss Heather
North Brooklyn Speaks Up About Bush
On Thanksgiving my husband and I went for a walk. We sort of had to because the sound of assholes beating on metal at 9:00 in the morning renders my apartment uninhabitable. Nonetheless, I mustered up enough holiday spirit to hang out my window and shout:
Happy Thanksgiving, SCABS!
before heading to Williamsburg. When we reached North 11th Street, I found the following.
I think the intended message here is to elect anyone but a Republican. The Grand Old Party isn’t very popular in my corner of Brooklyn. George W. Bush is even less so (if that is possible).
Exhibit A: Morgan Avenue, Bushwick
Exhibit B: Kent Avenue, Williamsburg
And last, but hardly least…
Exhibit C: Nassau Avenue stop of the Crosstown Local, Greenpoint
Ryan, the incredibly gracious chap who gave me permission to use the above photo, notes:
None-too-subtle tag that’s always all over the Nassau G station. Usually the grammar is a bit better.
Very true. These rather angry missives usually read “KILL THIS FUCKEN TYRANT BUSH NOW“. They would also be found at the Greenpoint Avenue Station on occasion as well. Sadly, the Garden Spot’s finest Bushwhacker appears to have left us…
but his (or her) spirit lives on.
Seven years down, one to go.
Miss Heather
P.S.: Those of you who crave another morsel of north Brooklyn Bush hating can get a quick fix by clicking here.
G Train Glory Part II: Meet The Parents
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Over the last several days my parents have become quite familiar with the infamous Crosstown Local. Well, last night they finally had a true G train experience in all its resplendent and abject glory. Here’s how it all started…
Earlier in the day my father was bemused by something that amused me at the intersection of St. Mark’s Place and Third Avenue: an old man popped out his denture plate, blew on it several times and nonchalantly stuck it back into his mouth. Noting my excitement, Pa Heather laughed and shook his head. My rebuttal was as follows:
Hey, things like that make me happy. Living up here, I see quite this kind of thing pretty often. This is why I am happy most of the time.
Now jump forward to 9:30 p.m. Sunday night. My parents, Mr. Heather and I had just completed a fantastic dinner at De Stefano’s and it was time to hail our crosstown chariot (at Metropolitan Avenue) and go home. After waiting a fair amount of time it arrived and we got on board. I soon tired of watching the man across from me play video games on his cell phone and casted my glance downward. In so doing, I caught a glimpse of G train glory.
I gleefully pointed out my new find to my mother:
Hey, that looks like blood!
Ma Heather: That’s what I was thinking.
The gentleman playing video games paused, took note of what laid beneath his Nikes and moved them so I could get a better picture. When not engaged in pommeling the shit out of each other, G train patrons are some of the nicest people you will ever meet.
Me (to the guy across from me): That had to hurt.
Guy across from me: (laughing)
Me (exiting G train): Thanks a lot for moving your shoes so I could get a good picture of the blood. Take care and don’t let that happen to you.
(Laughter from several Crosstown local patrons.)
From the November 25, 2007 edition of the New York Times:
In the opinion of Gene Russianoff, a spokesman for the Straphangers Campaign, if the G train in its current incarnation were to disappear, its riders in all likelihood would happily let it slip into history. As Mr. Russianoff summed it up: “Writers in Greenpoint and Williamsburg won’t write poems about it.â€
I want the G train to stay shitty. The recent media “make over” of my neighborhood has attracted the attention a certain element I would just as well live without: yuppies hellbent on suburbanizing and homogenizing neighborhoods beyond recognition. Unlike the media (or the real estate industry), the good ol’ Crosstown Local train keeps on keepin’ it real. And as long as the blood shed therein is not my own, I do not mind it the least bit.
Miss Heather
A Must Have For The Crazy Cat Person On Your X-Mas List…
Today the Miss Heather Clan hit Manhattan. The objective of this trip was triple-fold:
- My mother wanted to hit Pearl River Mart.
- My mother wanted to go to Ricky’s to buy eye liner. (Alas, Greenpoint appears NOT to be getting one. Those of you needing funky wigs or butt plugs with have to go to Manhattan— though I suppose those who are in the market for the latter can save both time and money by hitting a produce stand and purchasing a turnip or carrot instead*)
- To test the limits of my father’s tolerance for shopping.
I will spare you the mundane details regarding points 2 and 3. Not only are they pretty boring, but I have a number of choice “Miss Heather’s parental” stories to relay already. Instead, I will get right to the good stuff: something I found at in the kitchenware section at Pearl River Mart.
Salt and pepper shakers shaped like cat paws. Smitten, I happily doled out the asking price of $11.50 for these bad boys. Not only is this a small price to pay for something so cool, but they are amazingly well designed: you fill the shakers by removing the pads of the “feet”. Pearl River Mart’s web site does not appear to sell these, so you will have to schlep down there in person to buy them.
Pearl River Mart
477 Broadway
New York, New York 10013
(212) 431-4770
The above pair of tuxedo paws is going to my buddy Lisacat. They also come in grey and white. Orange and white shakers were inexplicably absent (maybe they sold out???).
Miss Heather
*This is what some of my buddy Rachael’s high school classmates did when they decided to conduct a contest: who can wear a butt plug at school the longest. Participants who didn’t own the proper accoutrements used carrots instead. Teenagers are incredibly resourceful and clever people. I cannot think of a better way to ready one’s self for corporate America than to shove something up his/her ass and keep it there.
Manhattan Avenue Gears Up For the Holidays
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Some of you might remember my post about the exotic assortment of items congregating on the telephone line crossing Manhattan Avenue at Eagle Street. For those of you who don’t, here’s a photo of it to jog your memory.
Well, the powers that be behind this budding masterpiece have been bit by holiday spirit.
I call this ensemble Christmas gnome with pine cones.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Pay Phone Du Jour: Huron Street
Filed under: Area 51
As some of you might be aware, my parents are visiting right now. Despite the weather being less than spectacular, the Queen Mother and Prince Consort of Crap are getting the true Greenpoint experience. Case in point: something we found on Huron Street this afternoon.
Sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again.
Reach out and touch someone.
Miss Heather
Dangerous Buildings, Places And Things, Oh My!
Filed under: Williamsburg
My buddy over at Bad Advice has been experiencing a very bad problem lately. The fly in Dategirl’s proverbial ointment is the rather fast and loose demolition being conducted next door to her property. The author of the aforementioned affliction is MMG Construction. Ms. Grasso and her funky bunch sure seem to get around.
In the wee hours of Thursday, November, 15, 2007 Dategirl wrote:
I’m really freaked out about what’s going on next door. They’ve knocked out my phone (the lines are laying on the ground across N. 11th!), the cable TV/internet and the building is rocking like, uh, a building is NOT supposed to when they’re working. Thank christ Con Ed and the water supply is underground. I’ve spoken to Marie Grasso (of MMG Construction— Ed. Note) several times. As you might imagine, she’s not been terribly helpful, though she did demand that the backhoe operator repair my cable tv with a roll of electrical tape. (Shockingly, that didn’t work.) I am losing my fucking mind over here
Later the same day The Gowanus Lounge wrote a post about her woes. I, on the other hand, contacted our State Assemblyman, Joseph Lentol via his web page. MMG was tendered a Stop Work Order that same afternoon.
And shortly thereafter someone saw fit to rip it down. Please click on the previous link: if for no other reason so you can behold the following turd of a comment for firsthand:
Anonymous said…
I really enjoy reading your site, as well as the other sites that like to whine and complain about development. Where do you get your information? It is pure fiction!
1. The contractor was never violated (!!!— Ed. Note) for an illegal mechanical demolition. You made that up.
2. The SWO sticker was taken down because the SWO was partially lifted.
You should get your facts straight before bashing people.
Actually “Anonymous” (if that is your real name), the contractors (and the developers who hired them) do most of the violatin’ hereabouts. The area in question, which I recently heard referred to (albeit mockingly, but I am certain you will pick it up as a new piece of sexy real estate jargon) as “McCarren Heights”, is being thoroughly sacked by space pirates. But unlike most corsairs (historically speaking) these privateers for the privileged (because there are simply not enough luxury condos to house them, poor dears) are operating with tacit written approval from a government. Our government, which brings me to this.
I received this in the mail today. WAY TO GO JOE!
Those of you who might be interested to know what Mr. Lentol’s district looks like prepare to be enlightened, because here it is.
The more astute observers among you might notice that the area highlighted in pink is experiencing a number of*, uh, growing pains*. If you live in the above pinkified area and gentrification is literally knocking at/beating down your front door, I would advise you to contact Mr. Lentol via snail mail at:
District Office
619 Lorimer Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718-383-7474
Or send him an email (like I did) at:
lentolj (at) assembly.state.ny.us
In terms of constituent services, Lentol is the best. What’s more he really seems to care. Write him.
Miss Heather
*It’s amazing how much outrage MMG Construction elicits from the media when her idiots bust up something a rich neighborhood. Can someone please explain to me why this woman is still in business? Who is she paying off and for how much? My curiosity is killing me.
Bedford Avenue Beaver
Filed under: Williamsburg
I almost shot tea out of my nose when I noticed this hilarious bit of hooliganism. Williamsburg’s only XXX-rated tree can be found at 154 Bedford Avenue.
Happy Black Friday!
Miss Heather
Astral Mattress du Jour: Happy Thanksgiving
Filed under: Area 51
Astral Apartments, November 21, 2007, 1:15 p.m.Â
Miss Heather
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