Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Amusing
Filed under: Area 51
My neighbor and fellow cat lady Eva101 forwarded this site to me. It is absolutely hilarious. I plan to make a submission for financial relief*— and you should too. Check it out!
Miss Heather
*For this or this. I have not made up my mind. Hell, maybe I’ll muster the chutzpah to sell off both!
On The Subject Of Spam
I have been receiving a lot of it of late. A. LOT. While always irritating, now the brains behind sending me, a female, adverts for Cialis, Viagra and porn sites featuring blushing young woman doing very dirty things have added yet another diabolical flourish to their sordid solicitations: asking me to confirm receipt of their crap.
Now let me tell you, I harbor the nothing but the darkest possible hatred for people who engage in this practice. Experience has proven to me time and time again only corporate drones who can’t find their ass with both hands —and as such assume I cannot either— ask me to confirm receipt of their emails in this manner. Anyone who would program a robot shilling porn and pills (I clearly do not need) invokes a hellish wrath in my person mere words cannot adequately describe. Seriously. We’re talking rage, kids.
On that note I am going to give them what they want: confirmation of that I received their missives. Miss Heather style: haikus using their own fucking ad copy.
Louise (I Love You Long Time)
El saludo im
Louise im 24 years old.
My ass wait you here!
Lulu
Ola im Lulu,
To My Group Sex Video.
Look rather at! Thanks!
Never Give Up (Ode to Cialis)
When you are young and
stressed up. When you
are aged never give up…
That felt really, really good. Methinks I will have to write more of these moving forward. Keep the spam coming assholes (and I have no doubt you will). Now if you don’t mind I’m off to write a Bad Date Haiku.*
Miss Heather
*Anyone interested in making a contribution (until we establish a “system”) can do so by emailing me:
missheather (at) newyorkshitty (dot) com
Be sure to include a link to an accompanying photograph. How will you know I received your email? When I post it, that’s how!
Boobification Photo du Jour: McGolrick Park
I smell varmint poontang, and the only good varmint poontang, is dead varmint poontang, I think.
Miss Heather
Introducing Bad Date Haiku
Filed under: Area 51
As some of you have probably noticed my posting of late has been a bit sporadic. The reason for this is two-fold:
- I have been very, very busy. Mostly with taking our pets to and from the veterinarian.
- I have at long last directed my attention to other creative endeavors.
Like this.
Bad Date Haiku came into being the way most good things do: procrastination. Last week my buddy over at Bad Advice and I were talking on the phone about bad dates. We both had better things to do but quite frankly we were having fun. At one point she rolled out a real doozy and it struck me:
That sounded a lot like a haiku.
I told her this and an hour later I got the ball rolling by emailing her my very own bad date haiku. Needless to say it snowballed from there. More people started participating, our inboxes got fuller and fuller and we finally decided “Why not share the joy with the world?”.
So we did.
At some point we’re going to roll this over into a bona fide web site. In the meantime you can savor Bad Date Haiku version 1.0 (as constructed by the ever fabulous Bad Advice) by clicking here. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed creating it! (WARNING: some images NSFW.)
Miss Heather
Interesting Consumer Item Of The Day: She Wha?
Filed under: Area 51
Recently a good friend of mine when out for drinks with a male buddy of hers. Upon leaving a bar she spied a very intoxicated gentleman (in a business suit, no less) drunkenly urinating on the side of a newspaper stand. This display really pissed her off (pin intended). I’ll let her take it up from here:
I was looking for something to launch into a tirade about anyway so I looked right at the guy “oh yeah, that’s what I like to see when I’m out enjoying my evening, some drunk moron with his d*ck out in public, making the whole world his toilet!â€
Michael got very embarrassed and tried to walk away, but I started to get my camera phone out. Then he doubled back and reprimanded me: “oh come on! Don’t’ do that!â€
And I put it away because the walk signal changed –and I decided I’d rather go home anyway. Then Michael says “he’s probably more embarrassed than you are!â€
“What!?†I said. “If he’s embarrassed, he should go into a f*cking mcdonalds, buy a coke, and use the restroom, like I would.â€
Michael: “come on, he’s obviously drunk. He wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t have to.â€
Me: “WTF-ever, I have been drunk in my day but I have NEVER *HAD* to stop in the middle of the street and pee. This is why our city smells like a toilet. It’s just uncivilized. You know who pees out in public? MY DOG. Civilized human beings find proper toilets.â€
Michael was obviously angered by my tirade and started walking away, turning his shoulder to me. But I was all feist.
“What, you’re mad. Sorry. I forgot. He has a p*nis! It is a man’s god-given right to whip it out whenever and wherever and relieve himself.  I’M SO SORRY, I FORGOT. I BOW DOWN TO THE P*NIS!!!â€
Michael was totally mortified that I was hollering this in public and decided that we should part ways for the evening. I asked him if he thought I was being belligerent, and he said YES. I know I was being belligerent, but I didn’t care, and still don’t, actually.
What’s funny is if this guy had been puking, I would have felt sorry for him. But nobody pees on the street “because they HAVE to,†unless they are homeless.
My friend could have let it go at this point. Could have. She didn’t. She’s a “follow through” kind of gal— which is why I learned the good news about “She Wee”. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!
Yes, this is a real consumer item. My friend actually ordered one is trying to learn how to use it.* Apparently it comes with a hose so you can “direct” your yellow salvo where ever you want. Imagine that: now you and grandma can bond over writing your initials in the snow! Check out their web site for yourself. It’s quite something.
Miss Heather
*I’m trying to get her to post a dairy of her learning curve here on New York Shitty. We’ll see what happens. Keep your streams crossed!
My Dream Job
Quite a few years ago, back when the Pencil Factory was “the” new bar in the neighborhood, my buddy Rachael and I took great delight in patronizing said establishment. The service was good as was the atmosphere— but these were not our only reasons for knocking back beer at the there. We had another slightly ulterior motive: watching all the Mobile Wash Unit trucks go by. As these vehicles would pass we would muse over how this had to be the greatest job ever.
Of course our idea of what makes a “dream job” is a little different than most. We were not so much interested in cleaning the streets per se. Rather, we relished the many ways we could abuse the power that comes with operating such a piece of machinery. Hurling bars of soap and blasting some of our neighborhood’s more hygienically disturbed citizens while screaming:
Go ahead and report us! We’re Union!
was easily our favorite scenario. In fact, we were so enamored of the Mobile Wash Unit we considered basing a drinking game around the spotting of their vehicles. Then we realized the depot was only two blocks away and that this game would probably be too short to be any fun.
Besides, we needed to be able to walk home.
I mention the previous because this week I saw a man with the Department of Sanitation’s anti-graffiti unit busy at work on West Street. He was having so much fun I wanted to join in.
Operating a sandblaster while listening to Kiss!?! It simply does not get any better than this. I wonder if this guy dances when no one is around? I can only hope so. Hell, if listening to Kiss* is one of the fringe benefits of working for the Department of Sanitation’s anti-graffiti brigade I’ll work for free!
What’s more if this stretch of sidewalk (three blocks away) is any indication, they could probably use me.
Miss Heather
*Motorhead (I would insist on singing along with Lemmy Kilmeister on “Ace of Spades”), AC/DC, Van Halen (Diamond Dave only), Iron Maiden, Juda Priest, Black Sabbath, Ozzy, etc., etc.
Bail Out: Williamsburg Style
This morning I woke up curiously early. I usually avoid doing so like the plague because the Mister has this annoying habit of firing up NPR online in our living room and via conventional radio in the kitchen. Any of you who have done this probably know there is a delay with online audio; this phenomenon turns the confines of the 450 (if that square feet) palace we call home into one big echo chamber of current events.
As I got my first cup of morning coffee I learned about David Foster Wallace committing suicide.
TWICE.
Did you hear that Merrill Lynch is going to be bought by Bank of America? I have: once in the kitchen and again in the living room!
In other news the Feds have refused to bail out Lehman Brothers. I got the why and wherefore before and after going to the bathroom.
I don’t know about any of you but this whole government bail-out of corporate interests really pisses me off. A good friend of mine once described it this way:
It’s sort of like playing poker with your dad. You lose all your money but instead of keeping it he gives it back to you.
This is hardly the way to teach someone fiscal responsibility. What’s more, if I “Jane Q. Citizen” racked up a bunch of bad debt do you think I would get such royal treatment? I think not. The fact of the matter is there is no easy, quick way for a non-corporate entity to extract him (or her)self from the red.
Or is there?
This interesting business proposition was found by Greenpoint’s very own mihow last weekend at McCarren Park. I can’t honestly say I find this solution very palatable (while effective, it is a little too permanent for my taste), but to each their own.
Miss Heather
P.S.: You can see the original uncropped photograph by clicking here.
Subway Photos du Jour: Sex In Midwood
So you live in north Brooklyn and are a veritable commuting Casanova. What’s more, you are really proud of your conquests. What do you do?
- Keep a diary of your sexual prowess.
- Call your friends and tell them every salacious detail.
- Document your activities on a subway map at the Lorimer Street stop of the L for all to enjoy.
If you picked item #3 CONGRATULATIONS! You are worthy of calling yourself a true Williamsburger!
Hmm, what do we have here? A three-way in Crown Heights. Kinky!
A friend of mine recently told me about growing up in Midwood. He said it was boring. Obviously he didn’t know the right people.
You know when I see shit like this I realize how very, painfully, EXCRUCIATINGLY dull my life really is. Damn.
Miss Heather
ACHIEVEMENT
Filed under: Area 51
It’s a long story but I came across this banner ad while searching for a photograph of Luca Brasi and simply HAD to pass it along. It comes from a web site for a radio station in Wisconsin. At long last I understand why I have not fulfilled my potential: I do not have a career in the fast food industry. I would love to have been a fly on the wall when the “think tank” (which undoubtedly was paid a very nice sum of money) came up with this doozy.
Miss Heather
A Little Something “From Big Poland”
xdoobiex (who is currently enjoying a month long vacation in Poland) writes:
maybe new york city should buy a couple of these for greenpoint?
I’m inclined to agree. If Williamsburg gets bike racks in the shape of guitars why can’t Greenpoint get some dog doo depositories like this? Not only is this tres cute but there is almost a zen-like quality to the act of placing dog shit (back) into a dog. It’s a never ending cycle of crap. A shitty samsara.
Miss Heather
NYS Flickr Pool
You must be logged in to post a comment.