THIS FRIDAY: Little Murders

As part of their series of films featuring one of my favorite actors, Elliot Gould, this month B.A.M. will be featuring a movie that has long been on my “to watch” list: Little Murders.

Why would this movie interest me, you ask? Well, I’ll let my colleague over at Self-Absorbed Boomer answer that question for me. He writes:

In Little Murders (1971), directed by Alan Arkin, with screenplay by Jules Feiffer, Elliott Gould… played Alfred Chamberlain, a successful but disillusioned commercial photographer who took to wandering the Upper West Side shooting photos of what, in those pre-pooper-scooper law days, could all too easily be found on the sidewalks. He explained this unusual avocation by saying that he’d received several awards for work he’d done–photographs of consumer products that were used in advertising–that he considered artistically without merit, and that this made him conclude that he might as well be taking pictures of shit. Eventually, he had mounted at a gallery a show of his excremental photos, and men in suits or sport jackets and women in cocktail dresses or pants suits were shown at the opening, sipping chardonnay and admiring his works. During the party, someone (as I recall, Alfred’s fiancee, Patsy) said she thought his photos were lovely, and added, “and they’re all …?” He nodded affirmatively.

Tickets for all three showing of this film can be had by clicking here or calling (718) 777- FILM (BAM’s theater id number is 545).  General admission will set you back a modest $11.00. Tickets for seniors, students and children cost $7.50 (please see BAM’s web site for details).

Brooklyn Academy of Music
30 Lafayette Avenue
Brooklyn, New York 11237

NOTE: After the 6:30 p.m. viewing they will have a Q & A session with Mr. Gould himself!

Miss Heather

Meet Marco

My buddy over at Bad Advice tipped me off to this very cute little guy in search of new digs. She writes:

My friend Jannese noticed a commotion a couple doors down from her home in downtown Brooklyn. She watched as the cops dragged a guy, covered in shit (no joke) out of his apartment. The cops were saying they didn’t know what to do with his dog, so Jannese rescued it. The apartment was as shitty as the guy was. (We’re talking genuine fecal matter.) She already has two dogs and can’t keep this one, so if you know anyone who might be interested, please pass this along.

You can read more about Marco’s story here. Be advised it is pretty disgusting. Anyone interested in giving this distinguished older gentleman a home should contact Jannese at chiwas_rule (at) yahoo (dot) com.

Miss Heather

My Day Trip To Lower Manhattan

Yesterday I spent the afternoon in lower Manhattan. The purpose of said trip was to attend Forgotten New York’s tour of old lamp posts. While interesting I realize that the manifold variety of old lamp posts to be found in Gotham are probably not your cup of tea. So here are a few photographs I took during our trek.

Someone on Beaver Street lost his Winnie the Pooh pillow case.

Speaking of Beaver, I finally beheld the William Beaver House in person.

Aside from having a rather mischievous looking beaver for a mascot it is sheathed in a bizarre arrangement of black brick and yellow tiles and touts a “five star view”.

Sadly the same cannot be said of its neighbor.

Darth Vader slept here.

This is just plain wrong.

This hails from the bridge over the Battery Tunnel.

And last but hardly least, what would a journey through one of the biggest tourist traps in Manhattan be without a nod to the visitors to our fair city? The Mister hates them. I, on the other hand, do not really mind. I like to photograph them.

Especially when they do goofy stuff like this.

Miss Heather

Caption This Photo

As I have intimated, Mister Heather had this week off from work. When not doing such exciting stuff as attending Community Board meetings or walking around Queens, we have spent our time hanging around the apartment. Two people and four cats in (maybe) 425 square feet of space can present certain challenges. And I like to exacerbate them by finding ways to get on the Mister’s nerves.

Miss Heather: You are a real treasure.
Mr. Heather: You should be happy to have me, for all the free I.T. support I give you.
Miss Heather (waving a copy of Foot Fraternity magazine): No, that’ s not it. After trying to find ways to eliminate the smell of your dirty socks I had an epiphany. People will pay cold hard cash to smell them! Think of the money we could make!!!
Mr. Heather: Thanks for making fun of me.
Miss Heather: I’m serious.

Well, long story made sort the Mister wasn’t having it. This is a shame as I thought it was a sterling idea. In any case, I found the following image in the above-mentioned magazine and thought it too good not to pass along.

Miss Heather: HAHAHAHAHA!
Mr. Heather: What’s so funny?
Miss Heather: Check this out.
Mr. Heather: That guy reminds me of Alistair Cooke.
Miss Heather: Yeah. The feature he is introducing is They Died With Their Boots On followed by a naughty little flick called They Died With Their Boots OFF— or would that be My Left Foot? Or The Man With the One Red Shoe?!? Oh wait, I’ve got it: FOOTLOOSE!
Mr. Heather: Pardon me, would you happen to have any Grey Poupon… for my bunions?

In all seriousness, this photograph is crying out to be captioned. Anyone out there up to the challenge?

Miss Heather

Fedders Friday Returns: Guernsey Street

I have been very negligent in regards to my regular feature: Fedders Friday. I could give you a litany of very plausible excuses or I could simply state the truth:

I forgot.

It’s a good thing the other half and I walked down Guernsey Street this week.

I’m not too sure what this building looked like in the yesteryear, but it looks like ass now.

I for one like the balconies.

This entrance has all the charm of a hospital. Or mental institution.

Naturally this edifice sports not only Fedders boxes but also ample parking!

For the select.

Miss Heather

Thought Of The Day

From today’s edition of the New York Times:

And now comes the first medi spa in Manhattan wholly dedicated to strengthening and grooming a woman’s genital area. Phit, short for “pelvic health integrated techniques” is to open this month on East 58th Street.

With all the explicit and downright gross advertisements to be found in/on our rapid transit system nowadays, I suspect (or more accurately, hope) it is only a matter of time before we find ads for Phit gracing the platforms along Lexington Avenue line.

Miss Heather

P.S.: Special thanks go to Queens Crap for bringing this gem to my attention. It was just what I needed to get motivated today.