Shaffer Family Values

May 28, 2007 ·
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic 

89 Clay Street

After getting a little housework done I finally have time to sit on my ass and sip a brewski. The laundry has been run, the dishwasher is loaded and groceries have been purchased. Life is good.

This morning I could not for the life of me decide what to feature for today’s installment of Greenpoint crime blotter fun. Thankfully, Greenpoint gave me a hand: at precisely 8:30 a.m. This is when I got up from my desk, peered out my living room room and discovered an ambulance parked directly in front of my apartment building.

The EMS workers didn’t seem to know where they should be headed. Thankfully Vito, a gentleman who lives across the street had a word with them and whatever he said seemed to help. The previous is pretty remarkable given that Vito is mentally retarded and his speech is, for the most part, unintelligible.

Vito is a neighborhood institution— or he is to me and the guys who work at “The Thing” anyway. On any given day he can be found hanging out at the laundromat over on Huron Street (which presumably, his family manages). I’ll never forget the time Vito saw Kerry speaking on a cordless phone. He left the store and came back less than five minutes later with a phone receiver. JUST A PHONE RECEIVER— with which he commenced to strike up a ‘conversation’ with Kerry. This was hilarious beyond words. I like Vito; he brings a much-needed touch of Greenpoint zen to my life. But I digress…

After watching the ambulance episode this morning I remembered the Shaffers. They are my very favorite Greenpoint family. The local patricians may not have seen fit to name a street after them like the Meseroles, Bennets, Calyers or Provosts, but they made their mark nonetheless— in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle crime blotter. Repeatedly. Without further ado, let me introduce you to Joseph “Grandpa” Shaffer…

June 18, 1867

SENT TO JAIL.— Justice Dailey yesterday sentenced Jospeh Shaffer, of Greenpoint, to jail for 10 days, on the complaint of Officer Beckingham, of the Forty-Seventh Precinct, who found him very drunk and disorderly in the vicinity of the ferry.

And take my word for it, the acorn nut does not fall far from the tree…

June 8, 1894

A young man entered the Fifth Street Station house in Long Island City yesterday afternoon and said he had been shot in Greenpoint a few minutes before. He gave his name as John Shaffer, and said that at the corner of West and Huron Streets he met a man he had never seen before. He had some words with the fellow who was about his own age, 19 years, when the latter pulled out a revolver and shot him in the knee. The Greenpoint police were notified and an investigation was made. Captain Rhodes, who examined Shaffer, thinks he invented the whole story.

What about the lovely ladies of the Shaffer brood, you ask? Well, let’s just say you probably don’t want to marry one of them…

June 28, 1884

Rosanna Shaffer, of No. 89 Clay Street, Greenpoint, was arrested on a warrant this morning, for assaulting her husband, Fred Shaffer.

Poor Fred. What is a hen-pecked husband to do? Kick the family dog, I’m guessing. Shit rolls downhill. Even in Greenpoint.

August 24, 1884

Yesterday morning while a number of children were at play on Clay Street, Greenpoint, a large dog, the property of Frederick Shaeffer, of No. 89 Clay Street, bounded out of a yard and sprang upon a little girl, the daughter of John Hawley, of No. 79 Clay Street, and fastened its teeth in her right arm, lacerating it in a fearful manner. The dog was taken to the station house and hanged by Doorman Brennan, The girl’s wound was cauterized.

I don’t know about you, but I feel like I know these people. I can only imagine what their holiday celebrations were like, but I strongly suspect knuckle sandwiches were on the menu alongside the turkey, stuffing and cranberry dressing. The Shaffers are were my neighbors. That’s why I am grateful four blocks and 150+ years separate us.

Miss Heather

Photo: 89 Clay Street as it stands today, taken by Miss Heather.

Fecal Yoga at Berry and N. 11th Street

May 28, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dog Shit, Dung of the Day 

Shit Salutation

In Williamsburg even the doggie droppings know how to do the suryanamaskara.

Miss Heather

Say WHAT?!?

May 26, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dog Shit, Dung of the Day 

After a rather pleasant evening outing this week I arrived home to find a disturbing missive in my inbox. The email was entitled “Kill me now” and its author was “Rebecca11222”. She wrote:

Saw this in a coffee shop in Williamsburg today. Enjoy.

Noticing an attachment, I opened it.
Electric Tribal What?!?

Needless to say I was a trifle troubled by this— not so much by the class itself, but the dangerous precedent it sets. The women who will probably attend this class will not fill a sequined halter top as nicely as Fayzah does. They’ll either be anorexic beyond belief (and thus have no belly to ‘dance’) or they will sport an Orson Welles-eqsue paunch that is impossible to differentiate from second trimester pregnancy. Perhaps this is crass and sexist (it probably is), but all I’m saying is only in Williamsburg do I see twenty-something year old women with beer guts.

I shared the previous piquant observation with my buddy Rebecca. To wit she quipped:

The Star Wars bar scene-inspired hair is going to become the new trucker hat.

I fear she might be right. God help us all. Thankfully, we Greenpointers know better. We may not know what “Electric Tribal Fusion” means, but we don’t need to; if it isn’t European techno trash that can be cranked at ear-splitting volumes in a SUV it is not music. Period. As for the “Star Wars” hair…

Star Wars Hair meets McGuinness Boulevard

it looks like someone on McGuinness Boulevard doesn’t care for it either.

Gotta run now. It’s time to get my aura adjusted.

Miss Heather

3 Crappers, 2 Days, 1 Bladder

May 24, 2007 ·
Filed under: Area 51, Greenpoint Magic 

After being awakened by Magic’s Silver Hammer one too many times, I decided to go for a long walk. Being the kind of person I am, Dog Shit Queen and all, my sense of noblesse oblige forced me to consider how I could spend this time productively (in the interest of my people). Then it hit me: why not patronize and review Greenpoint’s public lavatories? I have. In explicit detail. As you will see.

Bathrooms reviewed:

  • The American Playground
    Location: Franklin Street between Milton and Noble Street
  • McCarren Park
    Location: Nassau Avenue between Bedford and Driggs Avenue
  • McGolrick Park (AKA: The Crapper of Death)
    Location: Monitor Street between Nassau and Driggs Avenue

Note: I prepared for my toilet-going jugger pissernaut by drinking several glasses of water followed by copious amounts of iced tea. It worked. I was downright uncomfortable when I reached my first destination…

#1 The American Playground
Number of stalls: 1

American Playground

Overview: Not many people seem to know about this one. Even I did not give it much thought until several summers ago when I got sick at a street fair on Manhattan Avenue. I cannot explain the pain I felt in my gut that day save to say that it was like having the Battle of Guadalcanal in my bowels. I trotted double-time with the hope that I would make it to this crapper in time. I didn’t. I ended up shitting (if you can call such an involuntary and violent act of purgation that) in front of the rectory on Milton Street. (Sorry padres, but I suppose it’s kosher given I was raised protestant.)

After several frantic calls to my husband, he bought paper towels and met me at the American Park. Even though I didn’t make it to the crapper, I found the fountain they have there very useful to clean myself. I suspect a number of other people hereabouts have used this fixture for a similar purpose. With varying degrees of success.

Observations: In order to reach this privy I had to pass an Algonquin Roundtable of Polish bums replete with its very own Dorothy Parker. Whether or not this woman’s repartee was witty and cutting as Ms. Parker’s is anyone’s guess. I wouldn’t know because:

  1. She was speaking Polish. I think.
  2. She wasn’t really “speaking” as you and I know it. It was more akin to screaming.

As I approached the women’s bathroom, the smell of stale piss hit my nostrils. What I beheld inside wasn’t much better.

AP crapper

By all outward appearances the place seemed fairly clean. The fetid odor, puddle of fluid and swarms of flies seemed to indicate otherwise.

AP TP

That said, toilet paper was plentiful and the toilet seat was dry. Contrary to what many of my fellow females will tell you, we are just as disgusting— if not more so— than men when it comes to spraying piss in public bathrooms with total abandon. In fact, the crimes my fellow XX chromos commit are much more venal given that we sisters have to sit down to do our business. Any chick who has ever fallen prey to stealth piss left on a toilet seat will know exactly what I am talking about.

Sink

Soap was plentiful, but paper towels were lacking.

AP garbage can

Nonetheless, a garbage can was on duty.

After my first inspection I did a spot of shopping and downed more fluids. I was hot and my feet hurt so I went to San Loco and had a margarita. I consider this a business expense, as I needed something to stimulate urination and wanted to self-medicate before going to my next destination. In hindsight, this was an excellent decision.

#2 McCarren Park
Number of stalls: 2

McCarren Park Crapper

Overview: This is arguably the most trafficked public restroom in Greenpoint. For this reason my expectations of it were pretty low. The fact that some weird dude was malingering nearby whilest rolling a joint didn’t assauge the prejudices I harbored regarding this public pissoir either.

Observations: Unlike the American Playground, this bathroom didn’t smell. Not any worse than Greenpoint in general, anyway. But it did have a lot trash laying about, despite the presence of a garbage can.

McCarren Park Garbage Can

You will notice that this trash can is tethered to the sink with chains. I suspect this was done not out of fear of theft, but rather the likelihood that this recepticle would try to flee from the disgusting people who use this bathroom. I say this because as I was pulling out my camera to take pictures of this public crapper, a rather staturesque and VERY ANGRY parks employee popped out of a door whilest ranting to her co-worker.

Disgruntled employee

Like most heavily painted and ancient doorways I have seen in New York City, I thought this one was no longer in use. It is. And behind it resides some very pissed off civil servants you do NOT want to fuck with. This woman passed by me like I was not even there and yelled:

They throw trash all over the place, don’t even flush the toilet and then complain that this bathroom is dirty. These people are disgusting!

She then punctuated her outburst by throwing a wad of trash in the toilet, flushing it and going back from whence she came. I was more than a little spooked by this, but proceeded to do my duty.

McCarren Stall

Here is the stall I patronized.

McCarren Toilet

Both the floor and toilet seat were wet. But after I flushed the toilet I noticed that this was probably due to the tsunami-esque water pressure these toilets sport, not errant pee. These toilets are fucking fierce. If there was ever a Kings County Crapper Rumble, these bad boys would win. Hands Seats down.

Otherwise, I think paper towels were present. I did not document this because frankly I wanted to get the hell out of dodge before that woman came back.

DAY TWO: The Reckoning

I collected my senses, got hydrated and returned to McGolrick Park.

#3 McGolrick Park
Number of stalls: 1

McGolrick Crapper

Overview: I have a deep-seated hatred of this bathroom and its employees. Unlike McCarren Park, this one is not patronized by legions of hipsters and bums: its clientele base is mainly the stroller set.

Observations: I had to wait to use this one. This is because “Mommy” was entreating her young ‘un as to whether or not she was “finished”. Clearly she had, or I have would not have had the chance to use this particular toilet. But there was some ‘unfinished business’ for me to contend with nonetheless…

McGolrick Crapper

There were bleach puddles on the floor. I had to roll up my pants so they wouldn’t get soaked. The entire bathroom reeked of Clorox— perfect for a humid 80 degree day.

Ad Hoc Asswipe

Although I found toilet paper to be plentiful, I found evidence that this is (was) not always so.

McGolrick Sink

The faucet is still fucked up, there was soap, but no paper towels and someone (else) left a gift on the sink. Probably…

McGolrick Park Trash Can

because there was no trash can to be found.

What I am to make of the previous data, you ask? Well, Miss Heather has made a handy chart for you.

Comparison Chart FINAL

Statistics aside, here is my advice to fellow Greenpointers regarding our public lavatories:

  1. Always carry anti-bacterial wipes with you.
  2. Don’t fuck with the employees at McCarren Park.
    They will kick your ass.

Miss Heather

Today’s submission

May 24, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dung of the Day, Other Shit 

When I got home this afternoon I discovered a select morsel of goodness in my inbox. “Begonia44” writes:

Hi Miss Heather!

I wanted to share my poop finding with you and also vent if that’s OK. But first of all, I just wanted to say that I am a huge fan of your blog. Thank you for adding giggles and laughter to my day.

So, here is what I have today.

Place: 89 Eagle St. between Franklin and Manhattan. Our back yard. In our garden.
Time:
This morning. May 24.
Mood: Nauseated and pissed

My poop isn’t from a dog, rather a cat. These are the cats who have been having sex in our back yard, tearing up my garden, and taking dumps on my newly planted seed bed. In the beginning, the squirrels dug up all of my planters and hid peanuts and other nuts in them. It was a war. I caught a squirrel in the act of destruction one day and ran outside like a crazy woman on crack and he actually came running at me (Holy SHIT! — Ed. Note). I went running back into the house. Crazy little things. Now it’s the cats shitting on my flower and herbs. Gross. I came home last night and my boyfriend Adam said he has cleared out a giant pile already. And now, I wake up to this nasty yellow piece of shit. I give up. Seriously.

Anyway,
Thank you so much!
I hope you are well,
And thanks again for your great writings.

Cat shit

No, thank you! Not only for your kind words but for seeing this sickly pile of poo and thinking of me.

Miss Heather

High Art

May 24, 2007 ·
Filed under: Area 51 

A question I am frequently asked is why I do not try to earn a living by teaching art. My answer is always as follows:

Have you ever taught a college art class?

I have. It was one of the most depressing experiences I have ever had. Here are a few reasons why:

  1. Grade inflation: out of a class of 30 people, half of them will expect to receive a passing grade for simply showing up.
  2. If you are a student in a foundation drawing class, I honestly couldn’t give a fat rat’s ass about the ‘conceptual statement’ you are trying to make. Leave the sophistry for your senior year, all I want to know is if you can render the fucking still life I have set up in front of you. That’s it.
  3. Unlike most of my fellow teaching assistants and teaching fellows, the bored housewives who were in my classes didn’t bother me. In fact, I liked them. Unlike the entitled rich kids (talented and otherwise) I had to wrange, these women actually wanted to be in my class and their work ethic reflected this. These women not only busted their asses but a number of them also had talent.

The previous having been said, today I found a work of art that left me speechless. Well, not exactly ‘speechless’ —I did manage to get out an “OH MY GOD!” before being overtaken by its sublimity.

American Flag with Shackled Babies

Needless to say, this masterpiece now resides in my home. I have no idea where it will go, but I will MAKE room to hang it. Perhaps it should grace my husband’s new office cubicle?

Why couldn’t this person have been one of my students? I would gladly PAY for the honor of mentoring such a genius.

Miss Heather

This pretty much speaks for itself

May 24, 2007 ·
Filed under: Vomit 

Please

I saw this sign as I was leaving for work this morning; it was posted on the inside of my apartment building’s front door. It has since been removed.

What the author of this sign doesn’t realize is the foul odor permeating our building is not vomit. The Stupor finally got around to cleaning out apartment 6 a couple of days ago. This apartment has been vacant since last November.

Among the items removed were (six month old) rotten food* and used vintage cat litter. As a result, our hallways smell like a combination of homeless person ass-crack and limburger cheese. The Stupe, in his infinite wisdom, attempted to conceal this malodorous perfume with some generic form of Pine-Sol. The results of this futile attempt at ‘damage control’ are truly eye-watering.

Miss Heather

*He also threw out the refrigerator, which I could smell from my own living room 20+ feet away!

Mount Shitimanjaro

May 23, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dog Shit, Dung of the Day 

I’ll be the first to admit that Manhattan Avenue between Eagle and Freeman Street is not especially pleasing to the eyes. A number of the buildings there are run down, the huge construction fence (that swallows up much of the sidewalk) is hideous and the sheer amount of litter to be found there is can be astonishing— even for Greenpoint. That said, yesterday I discovered a new and more disgusting addition to this urban landscape: two enormous mounds of dog shit.

One at 1049 Manhattan Avenue…

1049 Manhattan Avenue

and another, older escarpment of caca next door at 1043 Manhattan Avenue.

1043 Manhattan Avenue

Yummy.

Miss Heather

New Business Frenzy

May 22, 2007 ·
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic 

Frenzy on Huron Street

Jack O’Neill’s pub at 130 Franklin Street is finally open for business…

Oneill’s storefront

and the interior is every bit as nice as the exterior!

Interior 1

Interior 2

They have a patio in the back too. Very nice!

The Parish Diner at 218 Richardson Street is open for business as well…

Parish Diner

as is the North Henry Eatery one block away on Meeker.

North Henry Eatery

I haven’t tried either of these yet, but I am looking forward to the experience. Anyone who lives in this part of Greenpoint will probably agree with me when I say that this area has been under-served on the restaurant front for way too long.

Permanent Records (at 181 Franklin Street) is slated to open this week too!

Permanent Records

And last— but hardly least— my homegirl over at 11222 has brought a new vegetarian restaurant to my attention: The William Taft Vegetarian Diner.

Way cool!

Miss Heather

Miss Heather’s Renovation Roadshow

May 22, 2007 ·
Filed under: Area 51 

Last weekend I had so much fun ‘degentrifying’ the Northside Piers I have decided to do a series of architectural mash-ups. Call it a Renovation Roadshow from Hell where I virtually visit buildings throughout Brooklyn* and give ’em the “Greenpoint Touch”.

Today’s target: The Williamsburg Savings Bank

Target location: One Hanson Place, Brooklyn, New York, 11243

Today’s ingredients (from my Greenpoint arsenal):

  1. Pink Stucco
  2. Lilac paint
  3. Cell phone transponders
  4. Satellite dishes
  5. A The defining characteristic of all Belvedere buildings and…
  6. THIS (which defies description)

Mix ’em all up and what do you get?

Belvedere XXX

Belvedere XXX! Conveniently located just off Flatbush Avenue!

Miss Heather

Photo Credit (sans stucco): Bridge and Tunnel Club.

*I am taking requests, by the way.

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