Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Take The Graham Avenue Challenge
Graham Avenue south of Montrose is rapidly becoming one of my favorite places to knock around. This shopping district is in my opinion one of the best experiences north Brooklyn has left to offer. Although presided over by the grim edifice that is Woodhull Hospital (which for some reason reminds of the Lars Von Trier mini-series, The Kingdom) the streets bustle with life. Some of the aforementioned activity is benign, some of it is nefarious but that’s what New York City is about, right? If I wanted to be in a sanitized environment I’d patronize an outlet mall in Jersey.
The shops along this strip hawk all manner and variety of dry goods the human mind can conceive. And in the case of one store, something which even confounds my admittedly fertile imagination.
When I first laid my eyes upon the above claim I was cynical. This is New York City after all. And in this— the best damned city in the world— I have seen a lot of strange stuff. What wares can this store possibly offer that set it apart from its peers?
The toys strike me as being rather pedestrian but I have to admit this Jesus necklace is pretty impressive.
But why would I outlay my hard-earned dough on just Jesus when I can purchase a pendant brandishing the Last Supper just down the street? I know a bargain when I see one: this is like getting thirteen Biblical figures for the price of one!
Okay, they have me on this one. Not only have I never seen an eighteen wheeler emblazoned with Scarface’s visage, I didn’t know a market for such an item existed. Wow.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Graham Avenue
A picture shows me at a glance what it takes dozens of pages of a book to expound.
How very true. I’d prefer to read a novel about the above-depicted turd than be forced to look at it.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Danger
Filed under: Williamsburg
From Withers Street.
Miss Heather
Crosstown Local Cavalcade Volume VI: Looking For Love
(…in all the wrong places.)
Waiting for the G train can in and of itself be a chore. This task is not made any easier when I am forced to look at this lady.
And look at her (“twins”) I have for the better part of two months.
I can only hope the above commentary is true. Now that the writer’s strike is over maybe they will dispense with this affluenzic clap trap.
Time and time again I wonder to myself why our society has such a fascination with wealth. Seriously, who could possibly find this drech interesting? Nobody I know does. Well, I recently got the answer to the aforementioned question on the Manhattan-bound platform of the L train at Lorimer Street.
Nice rollers.
Miss Heather
Dick Wilson, R.I.P.
Filed under: Williamsburg
November 17, 2007 was a dark day in toilet paper history. That was the day Dick Wilson —better known as Mr. Whipple, the fondler of many a pack Charmin toilet paper— passed away at the healthy age of 91. I remember feeling sad upon hearing the news, but my life is one of infinite distraction and I promptly forgot about it.
Thankfully some have not: like this sad reminder at the intersection of Flushing Avenue and Whipple Street.
Poor fella. It really broke my heart to see this street sign in such an inconsolable state. I have been mulling over ways to cheer up this sad sack and celebrate the joy Dick Wilson gave us during his 23 years as Charmin’s spokesman. Today I finally had a breakthrough. My proposal is as follows: we rededicate this street to television’s very own Mr. Whipple and erect a nice plaque to his memory. Follows is a conceptual rendering of the finished product.
Some of the more cynical among you might be wondering what this man ever did for New York City? Well, he did have a hand in presenting a certain neighborhood in Queens to middle America.
The first commercials Charmin shot featuring Mr. Whipple were filmed— I shit you not— in Flushing.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Hope Springs Eternal
Filed under: Williamsburg
I found this flier last weekend on Berry Street. I do not wish to sound cynical, but if all the construction sites that surround this missive are any indication, this is the subtlest real estate bust I have ever seen.
Miss Heather
Crosstown Local Cavalade Volume III: Subway Smackdown
I am not big on dance music. Sure, I have a fair measure of the genre socked away in my I-tunes, but when Ultra. Dance rolls out their latest compilation of “hits” I cringe. Before you cry “hypocrite!” let me clarify the reason for my distaste: looking at skanktastic syphilitic sylphs while waiting for the G train is not my cup of tea. And each year Ultra Dance makes sure I do just this. For a very, VERY, long time. 2008 has proven to be no exception.
In the spirit that is Superbowl Sunday I thought it would be fun to showcase two takes on the same subway poster: Ultra. Dance 09. Today’s subway smackdown features the usual suspects/adversaries: Williamsburg versus Greenpoint.
First up: Metropolitan Avenue
Not bad, though I personally would have explored her possible eating disorder, bad dye job and contact lenses.
Second up: Greenpoint Avenue
Is she supposed to be Popeye or Paris Hilton? I don’t know, but either way, this is a definite improvement. Why else would she have a phat wad of bennies tucked in her skivvies?
Greenpoint wins by a nose!
Or would that be a head?
Miss Heather
Lost Cat: $500 Reward
Filed under: Williamsburg
I found this flier at the intersection of Humboldt and Ainslie Street yesterday. Being the cat crazy lady I am, I feel compelled to spread the word.
If you have seen “Blackin” (Not exactly the most original name for a black cat, but hey— who am I to judge?) please contact Neysa at the above telephone number. As the substantial reward on the flier indicates, he is very missed.
Miss Heather
Beware of Dog
One thing I throughly detest is the practice of erecting copious amounts of “Beware of Dog” and “No Parking” signage on residential property. Not only are they an eyesore, but there usually is not a canine on said premises and if someone is a big enough asshole to park in front of your driveway a twelve by eighteen inch piece of plastic is not going to deter him. The previous having been established, I rolled my eyes in disgust when I walked by this house yesterday.
Knowing a good train wreck when I see one, I went in for a closer look.
Not only does the flag on the mailbox have handy user instructions on it, but a guard dog is purported to live on the premises.
The word on the street is, he (or she) sucks.
I dunno, he looks awfully cute to me. Isn’t it kind of cruel to keep a dog tethered to the fence like this? Of course the big question is who does one call to report this: the A.S.P.C.A. or F.A.O. Schwartz?
Miss Heather
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