Tickled Pink!

I was recently embroiled in a controversy at the local Taco Bell. The source of this conflict was a 40-something suit who wanted to use his credit card to purchase $7.00 worth of food. Since the minimum was $10 (and he was unwilling to go to an ATM) this chap began entreating his fellow patrons to let him buy their lunch with his credit card and pay him back in cash. No one seemed interested in taking him up on this arrangement save me— for three very selfish reasons:

1. I wanted some nachos*. BAD.
2. I was very hungry and wanted to eat sometime this century.
3. I wanted him to SHUT UP.

Therefore, I gladly gave him some bucks and we ordered food. In his gratitude (or perhaps thinking me to be his new friend) he started talking me up.

Man: Do you like that color?
Me: What?
Man (pointing to my lilac colored hair): Your hair and clothes, they match.

Given that I was faced with one of the more idiotic questions I had been posed with in quite awhile (if I didn’t like lilac so much, why the hell would I be clad top to bottom— literally— in it?), I handled it pretty well:

Yes, I like lilac, pink, purple, you name it. I am not afraid of color.

I mention this anecdote because I was tickled pink to discover later this very same day that someone in Bed Stuy also has an affection for this hue.

Or they had a serious surplus of pink paint and a lot of free time on their hands. Take your pick.

Not even the seating was left untouched.

I call this photograph Ode To A Cerisian Urn.

Or should I make that urns?

Yes sir, someone on Quincy Street sure loves them some pink!

A LOT.

Miss Heather

*Yours truly has a weakness for cheese that comes out of a tube.

Fugly On Franklin

Being a resident of north Brooklyn, I see a lot of ugly buildings. In terms of new construction most fall into one of two categories:

1. Feddertecture
2. Karl Fischer

Once in a blue moon I will happen upon a building that is neither new nor seriously modified. A structure which has been cosmetically augmented in such a manner that all I can do stand before it awestruck mumbling to myself:

What the fuck?

Yesterday on Franklin Avenue I encountered one such an edifice. Words fail to describe what I saw so pictures will have to suffice.

Behold this building at the corner of Madison Street and Franklin Avenue.

Yes that is marble, stucco and blue paneling you are looking at.

Oh my.

Miss Heather

Bad Ass Cab In Bed Stuy

One thing I adore about Bedford Stuyvesant is its residents’ affection for customizing their property. This can be as simple as painting flowers on one’s front door or as complex as building a dragster that looks like a coffin. Whatever tickles their fancy, they make it happen. This, dear readers, is what makes this neighborhood such a treasure. Speaking of treasure check out this, the BADDEST CAB to grace the streets of New York Shitty.

I found this old Checker cab on Bedford Avenue. While being a Checker Cab in and of itself is pretty damned neat, this motor vehicle has a number of appointments which make it extra special.

Its grill is sports a wreath.

The front window is festooned with fringe like Cheech and Chong’s ride in Up In Smoke.

One of those light-up waterfall pictures has been placed in the backseat for the passenger’s entertainment.

And last, but hardly least, when the owner of this vehicle is too indisposed to drive, he (or she) has no problem getting home on all fours!

Miss Heather