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Culture on the Cheap
Belvedere Blow Out!
It has been some time since I have written about my buddies over at Belvedere Partners, so today I am going to redress this egregious oversight on my part and give the scoop on two, count ’em, TWO new Belvederes! Excited yet? If not, you should be dear readers!
Belvedere XII: 150 Java Street
In keeping with the Belvedere landscape architecture paradigm, the entire frontage has received a heaping helping of cement. Planting trees and shrubs are for bleeding heart liberals who don’t appreciate the value-added qualities of concrete.
Can you find the Belvedere in this picture?
You can’t? No worries, I have gone to the trouble of labeling it for you. Belvederes have a chameleon-like tendency to blend in with 100+ year old row houses. Even ones half their size. Uncanny.
Belvedere XXIV: 490 Morgan Avenue
Have you ever wondered what would happen if the aesthetic savants at Belvedere got their hands on an existing piece of property? If so, wonder no more. I have the answer: they will make it look total and utter shit.
Photographs scarcely do this masterpiece justice. One really needs to go to 490 Morgan Avenue and behold it in all its half-assed glory in person. Not only is the “D” missing from “Belvedere”, but the cheesy lanterns gracing the front door are not even mounted straight. Nice.
Burglar bars: CHECK.
Friedrich and Fedders Boxes: CHECK.
Stucco: CHECK.
Oil storage facility down the block: CHECK.
I have long been mystified as to what “system” Belvedere uses to number their serialized schlock. Thankfully, a thorough examination of Belvedere XXII has helped me to understand the why and wherefore behind the numbering its distant cousin at 490 Morgan Avenue: it sucks twice as hard.
Haven’t had enough suckiness, you say? You crave yet more Belvedere hilarity? Check out the new Flash introduction on their web site. Belvedere Partners must be strapped for cash if they can’t hire a professional to straighten that crooked “R” on their store front. In fact, things must be really bad if the President of the company can’t outlay $4.00 for a box of Nice ‘n Easy and touch up those roots. If Mayor Mike really wanted to beautify Greenpoint he would stop planting trees, lock this woman in a beauty salon and refuse to let her out until that shit matches.
Miss Heather
‘Tis The Season: Wythe Avenue
Analysis: before one can love others he/she needs to learn how to love him/herself.
Miss Heather
‘Tis The Season: 143 Huron Street
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
This week my good friends at 143 Huron have seen fit to gift wrap their hastily erected ediface. Maybe this white cloak is a safety precaution? Though that would seem unlikely given their employees bust glass bottles on the street in front of Bagel on the Run for entertainment. To Greenpoint with love from 143 Huron Street LLC:
A hunka hunka of flaming shit.
I can hardly wait to open it. I sure hope they won’t make me wait until Christmas morning. My curiosity is killing me.
Miss Heather
A Few Thoughts About Bedford Avenue
Filed under: Williamsburg
Earlier this week Date Girl and I had lunch on Bedford Avenue. As we watched hordes of twenty-somethings, young adults who have both the time and (a lot of) money to burn on a Tuesday afternoon, the inevitable topic arose: how much this area has changed. Even within the last year. Our conclusion: it is NOT for the better.
Has Bedford Avenue gone to the dogs? This is an excellent question. I am pleased to report the answer is “no”.
It has gone to the dinosaurs and one of them even has a faux snow hawk.
Miss Heather
The Vagina Log
(Envision Miss Heather walking down Calyer Street. She is headed east and has just crossed Newel Street.)
Gee, I wonder why someone painted part of this log blue? I think I’ll take a closer look.
Oh, that explains it! It needs a dissonant shade of blue to offset the vagina that has been painted on it. Silly me. I should have remembered that from art school!
Could someone please explain to me this recent practice of inscribing female genitalia on trees? I ask because this is the second one I have found in as many weeks.
Calyer Cooze*, meet the Bedford Avenue beaver. I wonder if they know about the Roebling Porno Tree? Methinks I’ll arrange an introduction.
Miss Heather
*This is the best commenter name I have ever heard of— and yes, there is a registered commenter on New York Shitty who has this moniker. She is a very nice person.
‘Tis The Season, Part II: Don’t Let The Bedbugs Bite!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
As promised, here is the shocking conclusion of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle article entitled Problem of City Living which dates 121 years to the day before the above photograph was taken: December 5, 1886. Those of you who have the dubious honor of living (or having lived) in this building will probably find the following description of the Astral hard to swallow. This beautiful building was a very nice place once. Read on and see for yourself.
…the Astral Apartments is the most perfect type of an apartment house in the world.
Not anymore. That “playground” where children once played has become a dog shit smeared den of inequity for the Superintendent and his harem. So much for those “ample sanitary requirements” as well: mold growing on ceilings and an unabated bedbug infestation are two of the least sanitary things I can think of. Then again, could I honestly expect anything different from the fine minds who brought us this?
I rest my case.
Miss Heather
P.S.: Any Williamsburgers out there who feel left out, don’t despair. It has come to my attention recently that you have plenty of these little critters too!
‘Tis The Season: Don’t Let The Bedbugs Bite!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
The above photograph was taken yesterday, December 5, 2007 at 8:00 p.m. in front of the 74 India Street entrance of the Astral Apartments. For the sake of comparison (and because quite frankly I have a VERY dark sense of humor) follows is the first installment of an article about this building from the December 5, 1886 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. The second half will follow later today. Enjoy!
Am I the only one who finds it interesting that 121 years after this article was published that quality affordable housing is, once again, an issue?
Miss Heather
My Date With Dategirl: Part II
Filed under: Williamsburg
As I was headed home from my lunch date with Date Girl yesterday I was amused to find a vehicle from the Department of Environmental Protection parked on Greenpoint’s very own Manhattan Avenue.
I suppose being employed by an agency with the word environmental in its name pretty much relegates one to drive these candy-ass vehicles. This is a shame, actually, because I bet a lot more people would obey the law if they saw two plus tons of holy shit pull up in front of their building.
That little white speck of dust? That’s a tricycle! This is a real motor vehicle.
The dashboard is upholstered, for her pleasure.
Date Girl was in awe of the masterpiece laid before her eyes.
And so was I. If this city really wants to earn some credibility with its citizens, they should hire the dude who tricked out this van to customize all their vehicles. I have no idea what his name is, but I bet if you ask around Grand Street, you’ll find out soon enough.
Miss Heather
My Date With Dategirl: Part I
Filed under: Williamsburg
Today I visited my buddy at Bad Advice and checked in with Inky (the Pervy Potty Cat). I am his godmother and am, therefore, responsible for his emotional well-being. Aside from the prospect of MMG “Design” tearing down his home he was in good spirits. Dategirl, on the other hand, was not so we left scofflaw central and went for a walk. Shortly thereafter we found this, the Roebling Porno Tree.
You better not let the Big Greek know about this.
I said. To wit she replied:
Yeah, he might leave me for a tree.
What man in his right mind could refuse Internal Cumbustion #7? It’s like the Chanel #5 of Williamsburg porn.*
Miss Heather
*Oil not included.
‘Tis The Season: Monitor Street
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
A little bit of holiday cheer begotten by a Fedders box and a little Greenpoint ingenuity.
Miss Heather
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