Ah, The Astral!

January 3, 2008 ·
Filed under: Area 51, Asshole, Greenpoint Magic

It would appear that a real estate broker has seen fit to give his two cents regarding the “situation” at the Astral to one of my readers/tipsters.

Broker: I am going to have to ask you to stop over posting my ad with yours. I PAY for my ads. I am assuming that I have exchanged emails with you before, as I have spoken with someone (who chose to remain anonymous as well) once before. You do not have all the up to date info I have concerning the building and its dealings. Why don’t you provide me with the same info you have on me, like name, phone #, e mail, and who you work for. Seems only fair. You know who I am.

Tipster reply:

This is pretty up to date (12/23— Ed. note):

I had a fun time last night. No heat, no hot water and to top it off NO ELECTRICITY. Good ‘ole Tommy tried to troubleshoot but couldn’t figure it out. Said the power to the furnace and water boiler was out as well. He called the maintenance crew and they assessed the problem. He then told me that it was Con Ed problem and they would be there in about 45 minutes.

So I sat in my cold and pitch black apartment with one candle and a flashlight, hoping that Con Ed would get everything back on. 1 hour, 2 hours, 3 hours,no power. I decided to go to bed in hopes that things would be back on in the morning. NOPE! I got to work and called Pistilli to complain, stating that I had no utilities all night and that it is illegal to not provide them.

They said to talk to the Super, which I replied, “Have you ever met the Super? He is too busy taking pornographic photos to help out any of the tenants.” They said, “No, he doesn’t do that.”To which I replied, “I have proof on the internet if you’d like to see.” They put me on hold and returned to say that the electrician was on his way. I then asked if they were aware of all the other problems that are apparent in the building, mold, BEDBUGS…

They told me if I had any other complaints to put them in the form of writing and mail them in. MOTHER FUCKERS!! I then got the extension to the leasing agent in order to see if I can get out of my lease and have my security deposit back. I have not yet called, basically because I don’t currently have the money to move out of this shithole. Can someone please organize a class action suit against the Pistilli Brothers. This has gone way too far!

Broker: Read that. Thanks. I don’t intend to see any more postings from you undermining my work. I’ll have Craigslist take care of that.You apparently won’t reveal who are and this is growing tiresome. Apart from you and your third party (copy and paste) revelations, I do sympathize with the tenants having issues. Like I said before, I used to live in the building and didn’t have these problems. I’m beginning to think that you’re an agent from another firm who cannot gain access to this building, so you’re attempting to keep me from doing business there. Happy New Year.

Happy New Year to you, Mister Broker Man! I was a broker once and know the law fairly well.

If this is a rent-stabilized apartment why is the asking rent $1,350? Given the percentage increases outlined by the D.H.C.R., the odds of this apartment commanding a round figure rent-wise are very, very low. Can you say rental overcharge?
All rent-stabilized apartments include heat and hot water in the rent. It’s required by law— this is not “added value”, which is what you are insinuating.
If you know this building so well, why do you show pictures of an “identical apartment”?

Pari Passu:

1. with equal pace, progress or rate; side by side. 2. without partiality; equally; fairly

Contrary to your employer’s name you are being quite deceptive. The fact that you have taken the time to pester a person who (might) jeopardize a $1,350 commission (because you think he/she is a competing broker) only makes you more pathetic. Unless my memory fails me, a broker who knowingly rents a property with latent defects, e.g.; BEDBUGS, lead paint, etc, without proper disclosure can lose his license.

Miss Heather

Posted by missheather 8 Comments

Manhattan Avenue Riddle

January 2, 2008 ·
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic

Why did the cat and dog cross the road?

To give chase to the garden gnome and pine cones on the other side.

Note how the bird is now curiously absent.Â Hmm…

Miss Heather

Posted by missheather Leave a Comment

McCarren Park Crapper Gets That “Just Like Home” Feel

January 2, 2008 ·
Filed under: Area 51, Greenpoint Magic

Please treat this (insert appliance here) like you would in your own home.

Speaking as a former Office Manager I can assert with 100% certainty that underlying logic for the above piece of rhetoric is among the most flawed I have ever encountered. The presumption being made by the people who pen the above sentiment is simple enough: entreating someone to care for say, the office kitchenette, with the same vigilance as one’s own kitchen will result in a better-kempt place to prepare food. My personal experience, however, says otherwise. The real issue at hand is people treat public facilities like the ones in their own home, that’s why they are so disgusting. Human beings are filthy creatures and any (Biblical) rumors of being us being the better-abled the stewards of this world are greatly exaggerated.

Let me tell you about “Stewie”. My place of employment at the time pandered managed office space and he was one of our “clients”. I’m not too sure how much he and his compatriots paid in the way of rent, but it must have been draconian. This is the only reason I can muster as to why he would steal my lunch. Repeatedly. First I noticed a quarter of my sandwich missing. A week later it had progressed to half my foodstuffs going MIA. A month later I went to the kitchen only to find an empty container in the trash. Going, going… gone!

I was none too happy about this, so I took it up with my boss. I kept my food in his personal refrigerator (which was located inside his LOCKED OFFICE) from then on. Stewie (being the ever-adaptive hominid he was) took this development in stride and began “sampling” the sack lunches of my co-workers. One time my co-worker Mickey opened her Tupperware sandwich container to find a sandwich with a rather large bite taken out of it. I guess her culinary prowess didn’t meet up to his exacting standards— and given that Stewie worked in the catering industry (and would often bring lunch to the receptionists)— I guess it would be safe to say he knew good vittles when he ~~saw~~ ate them. Within a month everyone stopped using the office refrigerator.

Stewie made himself feel right at home. His activities were not limited to the kitchen either, as I learned from a co-worker; he was also prone to giving colored commentary while going to the bathroom. He was a veritable Howard Cosell of crap. Towards the end of my tenure, the powers that be hired a man we’ll call Mike. Mike didn’t last very long, I presume this was due to him coming to work hopped up one form of medication or another. Some days I would look over from my desk to see him so tweaked he could barely hold a pencil. It should also be noted that Mike had some issues regarding germs. To this end he kept hand sanitizer and disinfectant wipes at his desk. He used these with alarming frequency, often to the point of chapping his hands.

One day Mike came back from the bathroom in a more agitated state than usual. Sweat was literally dripping off his forehead. He beckoned for me to keep quiet and promptly closed the office door.

Mike: You know that guy Stewie?
Me: Yes. He’s the guy who was stealing my lunch.
Mike: I just used the bathroom and he was in there…
Me: AND?
Mike: He was breathing really heavily, I mean he was pushing really hard…
Me: (laughing)
Mike: I heard this turd hit the water and he said:

That was a good one.

I waited until Mike left for an appointment to laugh my ass off.

What do the previous anecdotes have to do with the McCarren Park bathroom, you ask? Well, quite frankly: not very much. It is simply a preface for the below sign I found posted in a stall of the women’s bathroom there last weekend.