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Culture on the Cheap
Anyone In Williamsburg Looking For Work?
Filed under: Williamsburg
Yeah, I know: the words “gainful” and “employment” are not usually associated with our fair neighbor to the south. In any case, for those of you who are seeking gainful employment I have some very good news.
“rawvo456” is hiring! Don’t forget to attach your curriculum vitae to your application.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Keep It To Yourself
Filed under: Williamsburg
From Metropolitan Avenue.
Miss Heather
The Fedders Friday That Wasn’t
Earlier this week I quipped that I would be hard pressed to top this lovely specimen Fedders Friday. Well, I was right. This week I have nothing in the way of Feddertecture to offer up for your delectation. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a piece of abjectecture to share. I do. Boy do I ever!
It’s been a while since I checked in on this beauty at 152 Broadway. Intrigued to see the process of Fedderization complete, I swung by yesterday to have a looksee. What awaited me was quite breathtaking…
and not in a good way. For those of you who are wondering: yes, this building once matched the one to the left.
Now it has been thoroughly and irrevocably crapified. I don’t know about you, but I really like the balcony on the top floor. It’s sort of like a parting “Fuck You” in the face of good taste.
Seriously. This has got to be one of the ugliest modifications of an existing building I have ever seen— and I have seen quite a few. Whoever is responsible for this vomitorium should have their architecture degree torn into little pieces. Instead I will have to be satisfied with giving 152 Broadway this week’s second New York Shitty Award of Excellence In Abjectecture.
Mazel tov!
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Hug
Filed under: Williamsburg
From Division Place.
Miss Heather
Photoshop Fun For Friday
Ever since I learned about Paul McCarthy’s roaming turd I have been thinking. Why do I avoid McCarren Park? Is it because Karl Fischer has surrounded it with his abjectecture? Possibly. Is it because I see more and more contendees for the Hipster Olympics there? Probably. Or is the lack of public art?!?
These pups are awfully cute, but hardly satisfying.
The same goes for this bunny. Cute, but insufficient.
What I want to see is an artwork as big as Karl Fischer’s balls (or FAR). Something that reflects the character of the “New Williamsburg”. Simply put, something people from all four corners of the earth will come to gaze upon and say:
Yes, I have been to Williamsburg.
In other words, something like this.
Meet the McCarren Park butt plug.
Hugs,
Miss Heather
Williamburg Photo du Jour: Driggs Avenue
Madboyelroy (the chap who so kindly forwarded this missive) writes:
…i think it is one of the best ive ever seen, they are on the money thats for sure.
it seems williamsburg is just covered in dog waste. is it the city does not police as aggressively as they do in manhattan? why is williamsburg covered in dog shit but park slope and brooklyn heights are not???
Excellent question. Maybe their dogs don’t shit?
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Jack Heights Meets The BQE
Filed under: Williamsburg
The masterminds at jackheights.com really go for the jugular with this one. Who, while sitting on the BQE waiting to cross the Kosciuszko Bridge, has not fantasized about being somewhere else? Don’t everyone speak up at once.
On that note I must take leave of the Internets for now. The Mister and I have company in town and today I am going to (drum roll please)…
JACKSON HEIGHTS!
Will I find disenchanted former Williamsburgers? Will this ‘nabe enchant me so much as to make Greenpoint look like chopped kielbasa and borscht? (Doubtful). Only time will tell.
And if it is worth telling, I will write about it here.
Later gators!
Miss Heather
Peace, Love, Understanding And All That Slop
In case the tone of my humble soap box hasn’t made it clear: I hate hippies. As a teenager the whole idea of “peace”, “love” and “understanding” made sense. Then I came of age and entered the workforce; many of my supervisors were former hippies. Baby Boomers.
I suffered a Communication Breakdown. First it was the way I wrote the number eight. I did not write the number eight like an infinity symbol. Rather, I scribed VIII by making two discrete circles atop each other. “Cindy” said it looked too much like the number 3. I was written up. I didn’t smile and say “Hi” every morning when “Cindy” came into the office. This too was noted by Human Resources and I was taken to task. As was the (second) time I brewed coffee (given to me by “Cindy” for Secretary’s Administrative Professional’s Day), noting that I would like the office vultures to leave me a cup. Then I was admonished for not fostering a “sense of community”. So much for shiny happy people holding hands.
The age old hippie argument seems to be if people can/will communicate with each other better everything will be hunky dory. I disagree. I am a firm believer in smiles and nod school of diplomacy. When someone screams at you in a foreign tongue (and you’re not standing in front of a moving bus) put on a grin, shake your head and look like you understand. Or feel really bad. Guilt becomes Americans.
Simply put, if everyone— everywhere— was better able to communicate with each other we’d be in a helluva lot more trouble than we’re already in. The U.N. would be a diverse chorus of “fuck yous” in every language imaginable with stenographers running for cover.
What is my reasoning for the previous, you ask? Very simple: 1105 Manhattan Avenue.
El Encanto Mexicano.
More specifically, what graced its front door. In Greenpoint this is tantamount to wearing your aunt Tillie’s 300 thread count white sheets at the Million Man March: highly inadvisable.
Amusingly enough, another missive was scrawled in front of Papasito’s.
Mexico Sucks!!
Papasito’s fare is very tasty, but I would not call it Mexican. When I want Oh my god where have you been all my life south of the border vittles I go to…
But did I choose to take up the matter of why Poland sucked, Mexico sucked, or Papasito’s being Cal Mex (as opposed to being more traditional) fare? No I didn’t; I simply smiled and nodded.
Miss Heather
*Very honorable mention: Taco Bite, right here in north Brooklyn. Not only do they serve up “Jamaica” (sweetened hibiscus tea) but they are the damned nice to boot. Check them out!
Comment Of The Week: Terrify
I noticed the Village Voice linked to me yesterday. It was regarding what I will probably always be known for: bedbugs. I encourage you to read Mr. Edroso’s tome; it’s quite good, if a bit(e) general. 😉
When you’re done with the previous read the following comment from a reader in “East Williamsburg” terrifyandcreate writes:
This is about the picture of the chair with the bedbug sign. I like your blog and look at it every couple of days. Much to my surprise I saw a picture of the chair I put out. I put that sign on it and spray painted red all over it. The upsetting part of this photo is the 3 chairs that are missing! That’s right. I put 4 chairs out the night before. The other 3 had seats and also had bedbug warning signs. They were gone the next day. How is the bedbug problem going to stop if you actually put signs on furniture and people STILL take them? Also people that have lived here for 15 years call this area southside. I still can’t figure out exactly where East Williamsburg begins. Or is this Southeast??! Again thanks for your blog I usually smile or laugh when I look at it.
For the record, terrifyandcreate, I’d call your location “Southside”, but I am certain pundits (real estate agents mostly) would call it East Williamsburg. Call it whatever you want, the fact of the matter is bedbugs are a SERIOUS problem in north Brooklyn.
A problem which this city seems unwilling or unable to deal with. People have asked me why I care so much about this given I have not had bedbugs. Very simple: I know people who have bedbugs. It’s horrible. What’s more, I do not want to get them.
Miss Heather
When Does A Friedrich Become A Fedders?
I have been asked on occasion exactly what constitutes a “Fedders building”. Even after several months of featuring Fedders Friday here on New York Shitty I have difficulty coming up with a satisfactory answer. It is a highly intuitive process, but I will attempt to put my criteria in writing here and now.
A. It must be a building whose aesthetic concerns have been completely subjugated to the utilitarian. In other words, it must be ugly.
B. It must employ two or more of the following:
- Exposed electrical meters
- Exposed gutters
- Large quantities of concrete
- A decided preference for parking over plant life
C. Fedders air conditioner boxes must be present.
Some have said that I have unfairly singled out the chaps at the Fedders corporation when doling out the dubious distinction that is Fedders Friday. Here is my rebuttal:
All buildings which feature Fedders boxes do not automatically qualify as candidates for Fedders fame. It takes a special mixture of the above-listed points to make the cut. The previous having been said, I have noticed there is a strong relationship between hideous outer borough architecture and the presence of Fedders boxes. Not unlike how a special guest speaker at a Psych of Sexuality class in college corrected an errant classmate of mine so many years ago:
While most lesbians are feminists, not all feminists are lesbians*.
The same goes for Fedders. The product seems to attract developers who espouse a certain philosophy to home building: build ’em cheap, ugly and as quickly as possible. It should also be noted that I did in the interest of parity try to launch a feature called Friedrichs Thursdays. But experience has proven that buildings sporting Friedrichs air conditioning boxes (on a visual level, anyway) are a cut above their Fedders brethren. Until I walked by Union Avenue and Conselyea Street yesterday, that is.
This building is nothing new.
I have walked by it many times, tut-tutting over the exposed electrical meters and sheer quantity of poured concrete. I do have to applaud the builders for making this structure (somewhat) wheelchair accessible. Unfortunately, lifts do not count for much when they are obstructed by bags of garbage.
But on Tuesday something struck me as being amiss. Something new had been added to this melange of the mediocre. Something— dare I say it— Fedders-worthy!
It has been retrofitted to have central air conditioning. BADLY.
Note the extensive use of foam sealant and thoughtful placement of the air conditioning units. I have little doubt the experience of sitting on these balconies will only become more pleasurable with the added value of being blasted with air conditioner exhaust.
But let’s get back to semantics. Since this building sports Friedrichs boxes it does not qualify to be featured on Fedders Friday. However, it does embody the spirit of the glory that is Fedderism. Therefore, I would like to give this masterpiece a very special award: The New York Shitty Award of Excellence In Abjectecture.
Way to go, guys! I’ll be hard-pressed to top this beauty later this week.
Miss Heather
*Which probably explains why I get along with lesbians so well: I am a feminist!
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