Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
A Happy Meal with a Happy Ending
Last week dear readers you learned about me declining a lucrative offer to join the sex industry. Believe it or not, I occasionally regret that decision. Sure, I don’t have the stomach for “adult films” but I probably would have been a good stripper. Or dominatrix. It would simply be a matter of self-discipline and focus.
The problem is I have a notoriously impish sense of humor. The sight of some mousy chap who looks like he slaves over actuarial tables for a living getting used and abused by a statuesque Eastern European woman while strapped to wall gives me the giggles. I know this for a fact because I have seen this very scenario. Twice. In both cases I had to hurry my person out of earshot so as to release my category five case of the sillies.
I should probably just settle for stripping. My buddy Rebecca11222 brought an opportunity to my attention yesterday that might be just the thing. She writes:
From “Kitchen Delight” (which is barely a kitchen and hardly a delight) on N8th btw Driggs & Bedford today. Not actually IN Greenpoint, but I had to pass it in order to walk to Greenpoint.
Don’t ask about the special sauce.
Sir, would you like to super-size that handjob? Is that for here or to go?
Miss Heather
P.S.: I’d like to give a shout out to my buddy Bob over at The Gowanus Lounge. As some of you may be aware, he is out of town at the moment. Of all places, he happens to be in Hawaii —which is soon to be grazed by a hurricane. Yikes!
The Fedderist Manifesto
Today I wish to add a new weapon to the arsenal of wretched real estate rhetoric. My buddy Kevin over at Forgotten-NY brought us the oft used and loved term “Fedders building”. What I propose is a modest and simple expansion of his creation:
Fedderize (fed’er-riz) vt. -ized, izing, izes 1. remodeling an old building in order to make it completely and utterly hideous.
Exhibit A
149 Grand Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
Let’s start with this one. Though it is a pretty mild example several elements of Fedderization are manifest:
- The addition of Fedders boxes to an otherwise beautiful facade
- Jarring use of stucco
- A vinyl awning which has no aesthetic relationship whatsoever with the rest of the building
When I saw this building my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe someone would deface an otherwise okay building by installing Fedders boxes. Whoever is responsible for this should be kicked in the head.
Let’s proceed to the most venal example of Fedderization I have ever seen. In fact, the following turd was the inspiration for this post! Get out your motion sickness bags folks. You’re gonna need them.
EXHIBIT B
1007-1009 50th Avenue
Long Island City, NY 10111
How-lee Sheeeeee-it!
I remember this building. It was once an unremarkable, if slightly run-down, clone of its neighbors. Now it is a hideous melange of what the fuck:
- The first floor and all the window sills are slathered in titanium white stucco.
- Two Fedders boxes grace each floor . They look like teats on a sow.
- The store front on the right employs the sparing use of marble, which is sort of odd given they didn’t skimp on all the other ugly shit inflicted upon this building.
- The store front of the left looks like something one would find in an industrial park. It does not match its companion to the right. One would think the Fedderist responsible for this gruesome twosome would be consistent in his (or her) craptitude. Obviously this was not the case.
Could someone please explain to me why someone would outlay (what appears to be) a lot of money to do this? Although I dislike the practice, I can understand why many developers have seen fit to erect ugly, over-sized, institutional-looking buildings in Greenpoint, Williamsburg, Long Island City and beyond: to save money. This, on the other hand, I do not get. Thoughts anyone?
Miss Heather
Chewing Karl Fischer’s Chocolate*
Filed under: Area 51
Yesterday I had an epiphany. I was walking along Driggs Avenue and stopped to look at Karl Fischer Row. Then it hit me: that building looks like R2-D2. I am not talking about the building with the Son of Samesque symbol on it. I am talking about its neighbor: the one that looks like a trash compactor.
Intrigued, I went in for a closer look. That’s when I found this Adonis basking in the glory that is living in a “young”, “hip” and —let us not forget “ARTSY” neighborhood.
What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension, HOW LIKE A GOD.
After laughing my ass off, I looked up.
Stormtrooper: Let me see your identification.
Miss Heather: (with a small wave of my hand) You don’t need to see her identification.
Stormtrooper: We don’t need to see her identification.
Miss Heather: These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.
Stormtrooper: These aren’t the droids we’re looking for.
Miss Heather: She can go about her business.
Stormtrooper: You can go about your business.
Miss Heather: Move along.
Stormtrooper: Move along… move along.
Miss Heather: Oh yeah, put a goddamn shirt on already!
Stormtrooper: (to McCarren Park Adonis) PUT A GODDAMN SHIRT ON ALREADY!
Don’t let the slick advertisements fool you. The above chap is the clientele base for these condos, not attractive 20-somethings. About 20 feet away from this sexy beast was another hexagenarian chap doing Tai Chi or some other kind of Karate Kid shit. Mercifully, he elected to wear a shirt. THANK GOD.
Miss Heather
*This is a Butthole Surfers reference. Anyone know what it is? 😉
The Fat One
Filed under: Area 51
Since my Internet service continues to be as effective as Lindsay Lohan’s recent stint in rehab, today’s post is gonna be short and sweet…
Sometimes I like to indulge in a little social commentary when I arrange merchandise at work. Today I chose to deconstruct ‘N Sync for our clients’ edification.
The chap on the left is Justin Timberlake. He is the straight one.
Most of you can recognize the blond gent on the video box to the right. He is Lance Bass. AKA: the gay one.
The dude brandishing the guitar, well, that’s Joey Fatone. I have taken the liberty of labeling him the FAT ONE. Because he is.
I am very pleased with this installation. I envision it as an updated version of see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Or appropriately:
Don’t ask, don’t tell, DON’T CARE.
Miss Heather
A Kitten Grows in Brooklyn
Filed under: Area 51
I recently got a call from a good friend of mine. She had discovered a litter of kittens in her backyard. Naturally I rushed over and saw them for myself.
The mother scrutinized me as I took pictures of her brood— all of whom are jet black.
The kittens didn’t seem to mind. They continued wrestling and nipping at each other as I snapped away.
After consulting with a friend of mine from BARC, we are mulling over how we are going to trap these kittens. They haven’t been weened yet, but soon they will be. If we do not catch them in time they will wander off to a mean, brutish and short life on the street. And beget more strays. It’s a never-ending cycle.
Please spay and neuter your pets, folks. No living, feeling creature should be subjected to this kind of life.
Miss Heather
Bushwhacking in Bushwick
Filed under: Area 51
I am happy to announce that after two whole days my communication with the outside world has been restored! This could not have happened soon enough. I was getting really tired of schlepping down to my friend’s apartment in Bushwick to do what most people take for granted, e.g.; check email, upload photos and write blog posts— but enough with the negativity.
During the two days I trekked back and forth from there I found two different ad hoc advertisements offering services of a, uh, highly specialized nature.
August 8, 2007
I found this one on the Manhattan-bound platform of the L train at Montrose Avenue. Let’s go in for a close look, shall we?
You know, one does not find such truth in advertising nowadays. I don’t know about you, but I find Danielle’s honesty refreshing.
August 9, 2007
I found this missive scrawled on a door immediately after I disembarked from the B43 bus at Scholes Street. As it would happen, I was in the very condition that Miriam (reputedly) craves when I read this. Unfortunately, after pounding the pavement with a panty’s worth of “girly gravy” on a very humid day her services didn’t appeal to me. Nonetheless, I was touched by her offer; it made me feel wanted. Maybe next time month.
Miss Heather
Fun with Craigslist: Part II
Filed under: Area 51
People can take everything away from you
But they can never take away your truth
But the question is…
Can you handle mine?– Britney Spears
As promised, here is the second installment of of Miss Heather’s Shitbag Experience. Grab a bottle Dramamine and fasten your safety belt, it’s going to be a long and bumpy ride.
One gent proved to be very impatient.
like you ad i’m 47 a musician i’m married and would love to have some fun at your expense tonite
(Later the same day)
i’m shocked i haven’t heard from you. i’m perfect for what you are looking for. i envision our night out as- going to some cheesy bar, getting you drunk and going off to some motel in jersy with you. it will be a threesome – you me and a contianer of baby oil. or better yet your apatment where we can do all sorts of things in the places your sweet boyfriend will want to them at !! send me an email and i’ll give you my cell #
Four words: I LOVE THIS GUY!
OH PLEASE CONSIDER ME, I AM AN EQUISITE SHITBAG, VERY CLEAN, SEXUALLY MOTIVATED AND INTO FANTASIES.
I forwarded this one to a friend of mine. She loved it so much she taped to her computer monitor at work. Next to a photo of an enormous bucket of shrimp with the caption “ready for the red sauce”. I mention this because (for some reason) it seems relevant.
Two chaps knew exactly what I was “looking for/wanted”. This was very helpful given that I did not— and still don’t. I am Helen Keller sans Annie Sullivan in a world that is beyond my comprehension. It’s probably better that way. The few times I have interfaced with the “real world” it gave me the creeps. Not unlike this guy.
I am definitely interested. I’m a 25 year old doctor and I am exactly what you are looking for. write back asap
If this is what the medical profession has to offer nowadays, god help us all.
Oh, about me. 0’s WM profession, on the Dominant side sexually. I know what you want… smile……..
Oh yeah, here is the photo he sent.
I spent WASTED roughly ten years of my life getting abuse from 40-something year old men wearing suits. Most call it work; I call it pure unadulterated hell. At least when I worked in “Corporate America” I got paid for it, albeit terribly. Why the hell would I want to subject myself to the same kind of bullshit (doled out by the same-said type of shithead) on my free time without compensation? That’s sick; I am a masochist for pay, not choice.
Of course when all else fails (especially your self-esteem and/or personality), nothing says “pick me” like a curricula vitae/resume. If you’re trolling for whores anyway. I am not a whore. I give it away for free, hence why I am a miserable failure as a capitalist and a slut par excellence.
Hi-
Maybe I should audition for you. Here is why:
In four days, my significant other is coming back to NYC, and I feel like you do.
I love red haired women. I love freckles on them too. I love wondering if they are red all over their maps.
I remember a James Bond movie— don’t remember which one it was, but it had Sean Connery in it. He made a quip about “collars and cuffs matching”. Though course it had a certain Rabelaisian wit to it. This man is no James Bond. Then again, who the hell would expect to meet James Bond on Craigslist anyway? Unless of course it’s Daniel Craig’s list.
I love small breasts. In my face, preferably.
I’m handsome, successful, mid-forties, television producer with blue eyes, and great body. I will make you act silly, too. I will also stoke your fire, if you let me. I can also be as dirty as you want, but safe too.
All offers considered.
(OH PLEASE CONSIDER ME, I AM AN EQUISITE SHITBAG— Ed. Note)
I’m a very intelligent, handsome, middle-aged caucasin successful businessman who has recently moved into midtown New York. Although I have visited here often, I do not know anyone here, and would love to find a friend to help me explore the city.
I believe in spoiling the woman who spoils me. I am a polite gentleman, who is knowledgeable on many subjects.
My photo is attached.
A return pic, with the title of your craig’s listing, would be nice.
New York Shitty sure has a lot of “handsome” and “successful” middle-aged men in it. Who knew?
I asked for a shitbag and I get a pro bono cleaning boy instead. This world is a very strange place indeed!
Sounds like you could use a cleaning boy? I’d do all your housework for FREE. I do amazing work, and I would never expect anything at all in return. You wouldn’t have to keep me entertained or supervise me. I’d work independently like an ordinary cleaning person, except I’d work more diligently and conscientiously. I’d scrub floors, wash dishes, do windows, whatever you require. …I have a pic for trade.
I didn’t believe this guy was for real so I emailed him back. Not only will he clean your house for free, but he’s also a human ashtray. Wow.
Heather,
It would be great if you gave me the chance to clean for you. I really would do great work, and even if I’m not a shitbag, I can certainly try to fit the role. Maybe i’d even wear a sign reading “shitbag” around my neck while i scrubbed your floors and did your dishes. It’s actually very hard for me to find people to let me do their cleaning because when i offer to do it for free, they’re immediately suspicious.
On the other hand, when i’ve put up CL ads offering to clean for pay, all the responses I received were from men who wanted to pay me 20 bucks or 40 bucks to clean their apts. Well, I have no problem cleaning for free, but I have to do it for a woman or a couple. I hope you can help me out.
And I’m not only a shitbag, but I’m also a human ashtray and punching bag. Of course, I wouldn’t expect any kind of play or amusement if I cleaned for you (or your colleagues). I would just provide serious cleaning.
I also run errands, do any kind of manual labor, and do all kinds of office work (MAKE THIS MAN AN INTERN!— Ed. Note), if you have any use for those services. I’m in Brooklyn, and I have a pic, if you’d like to see it.
Shitbag the Cleaning Ashtray
I didn’t think my (now) husband would be too keen on this arrangement so I forwarded this email to a girlfriend of mine. Don’t know if she ever took his offer up, though. She won’t talk about it.
Last, but not least, I learn of an EXCITING CAREER OPPORTUNITY!
Test shoots for erotic videos….they range from Hard R -Changing clothes,posing,showering,to X -hand job or blow job to completion….On Video……Modeling is 100$,HJ is extra 50$,and BJ is extra 100$…..Make up to 200$ for half hours work….work today,get paid today….Test Shoot and will not be sold or broadcast…..respond WITH A PICTURE(need to see face and body,clothed is ok)and what you are interested in if interested….work today,get paid today……safe respectful professional 1 on 1 shooting environment with very goodlooking guy……WOMEN ONLY……..
Now let me tell you a little about my work/life situation when I received the above missive. I was working a horrid job that paid $35,000 a year. I had just thrown out a roommate who stiffed me for $900. I had to put my student loans on forbearance so I could pay his share of (overdue) rent and avoid having my electricity disconnected. I was angry. VERY ANGRY. But being the chirpy little corporate shill I was, I responded professionally.
Dear Sir or Madam,
I am writing you to thank you for your job offer. When I placed my ad on Craigslist’s W4M personals for a “Total Shitbag” last week I had no idea that this could be the beginning of a lucrative enterprise; not only could I interface with a number of “shitbags” as I like to call them, but I could also have a considerable source of secondary income.
My boyfriend is growing rather keen on pimping me out, as I am woefully underemployed and make no better financial contribution to the household than being a tax write-off. In addition, the opportunity you offer would neither be a more unorthodox use of nor further insult to my level of education (BFA, magna cum laude, MFA) than my current situation.
Please advise me of any benefits I may receive through your employ, viz a viz, 401K, health, dental, vacation, etc. I will be delighted to send you personal and professional references upon request.
Sincerely,
Heather
And here’s what I got back.
ok……..so,if interested a picture and further definition of what part of my project you are interested in would be mandatory for us to continue foward……….
So there have you. Many women look for shitbags unwittingly. They are practicing amateurs in my eyes and the caliber of shitbag they (undoubtedly) attract reflects their ineptitude. Now let’s review what I (a seasoned shitbag specialist) was offered:
- oodles of creepy anonymous/suspect sex
- two or three sugar daddies
- verbal/physical abuse from a suit man
- free housecleaning
- a new career in the porn industry
- and probably STD or two
But alas, all I got was two crappy blog posts and a lot of laughs.
Not too bad if I say so myself. Though I am still tempted to contact the “the cleaning ashtray” on occasion.
Miss Heather
Fun with Craigslist, Part I
Yesterday I found myself taking a trip down memory lane. On Monday I asked the proprietor of The Gowanus Lounge if I could guest-author his weekly “Missed Connections” feature for the next couple of weeks. He agreed to let me do so, but admonished me that some of the stuff to be found there is pretty foul. I assured him that I was already quite prepared for the utter depravity that would be laid before me because a former hobby of mine (at my last full-time job) was putting up prank ads on this very site. A number of them made it to the “Best of” page too.
Let’s take one of my finer opuses, shall we? It is entitled “Wanted: Total Shitbag“:
Good Afternoon Gents,
In four days my boyfriend (who lives halfway across the country) will be moving in with me. He is a very nice person, too, if I say so myself.
Perhaps it’s cold feet or the jitters, but somehow I feel like part of my life has slipped me by. This is where YOU come in: I need a total scum-sucking piece of s*** to remind me how good I have it. Exercise the endless resources of your imagination and your God-given talents. In the interest of getting the ball rolling I will throw out the following suggestions:
1. I am 32, so obviously I need a man who is AT LEAST in his mid-40s. I am way too long in the tooth for anything less. If you happen to be around 32 years of age and male, be sure to remind me of this. Constantly.
2. Creepy men who like petite women with red hair and/or small chests: I have both. (WOOHOO!)
3. Creepy men who DO NOT like petite women with red hair and/or small breasts. Remind me of this continuously— especially when a taller, choicer, Maxim-esque surgically-altered morsel walks by. *Bonus points* if you yourself are an overweight sack of pus.
4. Be a lazy sack of s***: I just threw out a roommate 2 months ago that never saw fit to hold down a job or pay his bills. He also smelled like ass, but nonetheless my l’il heart STILL goes pitter pat when I recall scooping up a pair is his skidmarked tighty whities off bathroom floor or paying out $300+ on electricity bills he never paid. (sniffle, sniffle…)
5. I can pretend to have a sister or roommate, if you will pretend to screw her behind my back.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Miss Guided
It may not surprise some of you, but I got a lot of responses to this ad. Approximately 50 if my memory serves me correctly. Who knew there were so many shitbags in New York Shitty— much less on Craigslist?
Follows is the first installment of my favorite respondents. Those of you who harbor a low opinion of the human race please be advised that reading the following material will only provide sound justification for your misanthropy. The previous caveat having been written, let’s see us some shitbags!
A few of them got the joke and responded in kind:
I’m your man except for one small problem. If you talk the way you write I might be laughing my ass off the whole time I’m trying to convince you that your leap into committment is the most perfect move you could make right now. But you should know my laugh is one of the most obnoxious on the planet. I’m in my fifties, I’m married, and I’m cruising “women seeking men” on craigslist. That’s a decent start at shitbagdom, wouldn’t you say? I’m a screenwriter and if you think that’s a cool profession I’ll disabuse you of that notion in a few nanoseconds. I don’t wash my hands after I pee so you can be pretty certain of urine residue when we shake hands. I have endless erotic fantasies about petite women with red hair and small breasts and if you come anywhere near one of those fantasies I can promise you R. Crumb-like bulging eyes and pints of drool plus long disquisitions on how I like to masturbate thinking about petite redheads. Overweight? I’m working on it by downing endless pitchers of beer. Won’t it be helpful to have a slurring drunk talking about sports, lying about the size of his dick, leeringly going on about petite women with small tits (I won’t use the word breasts in front of you). My wife and kids are out of town for the week so I’ll be able to make you sick to your stomach with my suggestion that you and I climb in the sack and I cheat on this wonderful family. Trust me, you won’t be able to trust me for a second and you’ll realize in a flash, call it scumbag satori, that you’ve found the perfect match in Mr. Flying In From Wherever (who I can guarantee you I will dump on at every opportunity trying to prove I’m oh so much better than he is).
I could go on but you’ve got to see this one in person to get the full effect. I’m a royal nightmare to look at. And no I won’t send a pic because if you’re going to convince yourself of Mr. FIFW’s goodness due to my badness I’m at least getting you to pay for a drink or two. Others may claim they can do the job but as I said above, I’m your man. References on demand.
Max (that’s not my real name)
sweetheart. I think you touched my soul. I am in deep eyegazing, sunrise love with you and I need to take you on the date of your life. a romantic walk trough the park just to smell flowers and touch your hair. suddenly, I might stop and get on a knee to touch your bare foot to my heart.
your everlasting prince,
Donald Juaner
Even more of them got the joke— but you know what they say— HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL:
Now that is genius. Really. curiiousity does not even begin to describe it. I can be all of the above. with some inspiration. i am 37.
Very creative posting. I’m not a shitbag, but since you’re really not looking for one, we should talk. I do like petite redheads.
Others seemed to be just plain confused:
Dear miss guided…OK…not that I want to call myself a piece of shit…but I could not help but to respond to your add. I loved it. Ihave a thing for petite red heads with smalls breasts, so there is the creepy part. I can treat you badly, if you are really looking for that. Just wondering if it was a serious add. Too long in the tooth…u? come on. would love to start a dialog get back.
I don’t get this. Is it a joke? If not, what’s the goal?
I’m not too sure what this guy was thinking, but here it is anyway…
trust me they are all full of crap just trying to get laid I bet all those sissies who responded are all part of that gay army over in Chelsea lolll must be a lot of tough gay boys in this city lollllll
One kindly soul tried to save me from myself (BAD NEWS: It’s too late!)
You really need help…..Your falling off the deep end. If you are having doubts then you need to re-think this. If he cares for you and more importantly YOU care about him then give it a try. Just don`t be too dumb, remember men have needs and if you don`t treat them right they WILL wonder… TRUST ME
Stayed tuned for tomorrow’s exciting (and final) installment where Miss Heather not only learns of an exciting career opportunity, but also receives a bona fide offer for FREE HOUSECLEANING!
I’m just getting warmed up, kids.
JUST.
GETTING.
WARMED.
UP.
Miss Heather
A(nother) Very Special Thanks To BARC
Filed under: Area 51
It gives me great pleasure to announce that my former neighbor (and despoiler of my bedroom windows), Haile Selassie, has been adopted! While it saddens me that I wasn’t there to say goodbye to him, it makes me happy to know he now has a home with someone who loves him. Once again, I cannot thank BARC enough for the great work they did getting Haile to trust people again (he loves head rubs but isn’t very big on having his nails clipped). I have no doubts that he is one very happy chap nowadays.
Otherwise it looks like BARC’s Annual Dog Parade and Show is slated for October 14th. I have been invited to participate in the parade and am very excited about it! Thanks again, guys (and gals)!
In closing I am going to leave you with this heart-meltingly cute YouTube flick of another kitty who was lucky enough to find his way to BARC. His name is Albert (as in Albert Einstein) and you can learn more about him and his siblings here.
ALBERT TAKES A BATH
If only my tummy was this cute!
Miss Heather
Peter J. McGuinness… Art Lover?
Filed under: Area 51
This week’s installment of Greenpoint goodness features two things Miss Heather loves:
- Art
- Peter “Pete” J. McGuinness
Known to most as little more than the namesake of a rather lackluster bit of road in Greenpoint, “The McGuinness” (as he was called) is my role model. Loud-mouthed, crude, contrarian assholes like us tend to stick together, and besides, what can you not love about a man who once said (regarding Prohibition):
It’s a shame to allow whiskey to lie idle when there’s people at Death’s door that might be saved by it.
On top of a shared affection for intoxicating substances I recently learned that Pete and I have something else in common: we both are art lovers. Who knew? Here is an article from the February 22, 1935 edition of the New York Times entitled “Brooklyn Beckons To Civic Virtue”. Enjoy!
Do not let Pete’s colorful rhetoric fool you; this man was not stupid. His career surviving the Seabury Commission‘s investigation of Tammany Hall is a testament to his wiliness. And of course, being buddies with Fiorello La Guardia probably didn’t hurt either.
Those of you who are looking a slightly meatier piece of summer reading (and want to learn more about the Seabury Hearings and the fall of Tammany), check out Once Upon a Time in New York by Herbert Mitgang. While a little tedious here and there, it is completely worth taking the time to read.
Miss Heather
NYS Flickr Pool
