Blowing Chunks on Bedford Avenue

October 29, 2007 by
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg 

Today I am going to feature two examples of north Brooklyn Halloween goodness for all to enjoy. On top of the daily dose Greenpoint Halloween decor, I am going to feature one hailing from our neighbor to the south: Williamsburg. But before I unveil it, I am going to tell the tale of what led to its discovery.

My husband was in one irritating as shit mood Saturday. He went went out for breakfast; they did not serve him properly, so after drinking one cup of coffee he left. I know this because he came by my job and to bitch about it. That was at 11:00 a.m. He asked me what he should do. I told him to eat something. “But we will have lunch out later.” he said. To wit I replied:


Did my husband eat anything? Tomato salad, brie/garlic butter dip, 1/2 a baguette and numerous other foodstuffs I have personally hunted, gathered and processed were awaiting his delectation. Did he eat them? No, he didn’t. So when I arrived home an hour late he was even hungrier and bitchier.

Crankyass Husband: So where do you want to go?
Me: Driggs Pizzeria.
C.H.: (silently grouses)

So off to Driggs Pizzeria we went. Every time I stopped to take pictures hubby bitched. At one point he tried to blame my coming home one hour late for him not eating so as to be prepped my coming home an hour late. I am not making this shit up.

We arrived at Driggs. Despite dining on spicy Sicilian food and ordering a bottle of Chianti hubby was still surly:

Surly Hubby: Why are you wearing a tank top with Aquarius on it? You are not an Aquarius.
Me: Does one need to be an Aquarius in order to wear an Aquarius tank top?
S.H.: I guess not.
Me: I’ll wear what I damned well please. You’re just jealous because you don’t have an Aquarius tank top.
S.H.: I’m not.
Me: You’re just jealous because I look much finer in this tank top than you would.
Me: I think I’ll get 12 tank tops, one for each sign. When I get up in the morning I will ask myself “Who do I feel like today, perhaps a Leo?” and wear the appropriate tankie.
S.H. Let me know when you’re feeling like a Leo.

This dialog degenerated into a squabble. Grumpy Pants said he wanted to go home. I didn’t and obliged him because I had my keys and “didn’t like his attitude”. In true passive aggressive form, he acquiesced to tagging along. We walked one block and he said:

I need to go home, I don’t feel very good.

Me (thinking this was some bullshit way of saving face): Ok, fine.

I proceeded along Driggs Avenue. I get a call.

Husband: UVA moved to Driggs and North 6*.
Me: Uh, okay. Thanks.

After asking myself why he saw fit to call and tell me this, I went to King’s Pharmacy. Upon exiting, I got another call.

Husband (strangely chirpy): I feel much better now, where are you?
Me: Bedford and North 4th.
Husband: I’ll meet you, I’m at North 7th and Bedford.

When we met I immediately asked:

Why do you feel better?

Husband: I threw up in a trash can on Bedford Avenue.
Me: Why did you throw up?
Husband: I guess I shouldn’t have had wine (with lunch) on an empty stomach.

There is a lesson in the previous tale folks, but it doesn’t end there.

We clipped down North 6th to head home. That’s where we encountered this jack ‘o’ lantern.

Mister Pukehead


I enthusiastically exclaimed.

Yeah, I’m a bitch. A bitch who was happy her hubby blew chunks on Bedford Avenue instead of Greenpoint. That would have been really embarrassing.

Miss Heather

*This is wrong. My husband is not very good with street names.


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