Greenpoint
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Culture on the Cheap
North Brooklyn Speaks Up About Bush
On Thanksgiving my husband and I went for a walk. We sort of had to because the sound of assholes beating on metal at 9:00 in the morning renders my apartment uninhabitable. Nonetheless, I mustered up enough holiday spirit to hang out my window and shout:
Happy Thanksgiving, SCABS!
before heading to Williamsburg. When we reached North 11th Street, I found the following.
I think the intended message here is to elect anyone but a Republican. The Grand Old Party isn’t very popular in my corner of Brooklyn. George W. Bush is even less so (if that is possible).
Exhibit A: Morgan Avenue, Bushwick
Exhibit B: Kent Avenue, Williamsburg
And last, but hardly least…
Exhibit C: Nassau Avenue stop of the Crosstown Local, Greenpoint
Ryan, the incredibly gracious chap who gave me permission to use the above photo, notes:
None-too-subtle tag that’s always all over the Nassau G station. Usually the grammar is a bit better.
Very true. These rather angry missives usually read “KILL THIS FUCKEN TYRANT BUSH NOW“. They would also be found at the Greenpoint Avenue Station on occasion as well. Sadly, the Garden Spot’s finest Bushwhacker appears to have left us…
but his (or her) spirit lives on.
Seven years down, one to go.
Miss Heather
P.S.: Those of you who crave another morsel of north Brooklyn Bush hating can get a quick fix by clicking here.
Dangerous Buildings, Places And Things, Oh My!
Filed under: Williamsburg
My buddy over at Bad Advice has been experiencing a very bad problem lately. The fly in Dategirl’s proverbial ointment is the rather fast and loose demolition being conducted next door to her property. The author of the aforementioned affliction is MMG Construction. Ms. Grasso and her funky bunch sure seem to get around.
In the wee hours of Thursday, November, 15, 2007 Dategirl wrote:
I’m really freaked out about what’s going on next door. They’ve knocked out my phone (the lines are laying on the ground across N. 11th!), the cable TV/internet and the building is rocking like, uh, a building is NOT supposed to when they’re working. Thank christ Con Ed and the water supply is underground. I’ve spoken to Marie Grasso (of MMG Construction— Ed. Note) several times. As you might imagine, she’s not been terribly helpful, though she did demand that the backhoe operator repair my cable tv with a roll of electrical tape. (Shockingly, that didn’t work.) I am losing my fucking mind over here
Later the same day The Gowanus Lounge wrote a post about her woes. I, on the other hand, contacted our State Assemblyman, Joseph Lentol via his web page. MMG was tendered a Stop Work Order that same afternoon.
And shortly thereafter someone saw fit to rip it down. Please click on the previous link: if for no other reason so you can behold the following turd of a comment for firsthand:
Anonymous said…
I really enjoy reading your site, as well as the other sites that like to whine and complain about development. Where do you get your information? It is pure fiction!
1. The contractor was never violated (!!!— Ed. Note) for an illegal mechanical demolition. You made that up.
2. The SWO sticker was taken down because the SWO was partially lifted.
You should get your facts straight before bashing people.
Actually “Anonymous” (if that is your real name), the contractors (and the developers who hired them) do most of the violatin’ hereabouts. The area in question, which I recently heard referred to (albeit mockingly, but I am certain you will pick it up as a new piece of sexy real estate jargon) as “McCarren Heights”, is being thoroughly sacked by space pirates. But unlike most corsairs (historically speaking) these privateers for the privileged (because there are simply not enough luxury condos to house them, poor dears) are operating with tacit written approval from a government. Our government, which brings me to this.
I received this in the mail today. WAY TO GO JOE!
Those of you who might be interested to know what Mr. Lentol’s district looks like prepare to be enlightened, because here it is.
The more astute observers among you might notice that the area highlighted in pink is experiencing a number of*, uh, growing pains*. If you live in the above pinkified area and gentrification is literally knocking at/beating down your front door, I would advise you to contact Mr. Lentol via snail mail at:
District Office
619 Lorimer Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718-383-7474
Or send him an email (like I did) at:
lentolj (at) assembly.state.ny.us
In terms of constituent services, Lentol is the best. What’s more he really seems to care. Write him.
Miss Heather
*It’s amazing how much outrage MMG Construction elicits from the media when her idiots bust up something a rich neighborhood. Can someone please explain to me why this woman is still in business? Who is she paying off and for how much? My curiosity is killing me.
Bedford Avenue Beaver
Filed under: Williamsburg
I almost shot tea out of my nose when I noticed this hilarious bit of hooliganism. Williamsburg’s only XXX-rated tree can be found at 154 Bedford Avenue.
Happy Black Friday!
Miss Heather
Feel Good Super of the Year: 223 Devoe Street
I read this post on Curbed last week and was mystified. The “ostensible” S(t)uperintendent of my apartment building rarely leaves notes in my apartment building. Unless of course he is faced with a visit from the Department of Buildings at the behest of Marty Markowitz and a building full of very angry tenants. In which case his usual apathy turns to sanguine (and illiterate) written apology.
Gawker found the above missive amusing. One year (numerous HOT baths) later I do as well. Though I would have liked getting credit for this photographic memento of my misery.
As of the writing of this post I have heat and hot water— but no intercom. The brain trust who saw fit to install a HVAC exhaust unit in the space above the foyer of my apartment building severed the cables. They did a pretty bad job. I am not an expert on such matters, but when the ceiling gracing the aforementioned foyer collapses due to being deluged with condensation I think it is safe to assume incompetence was at play.
As Strother Martin wisely said in Cool Hand Luke:
What we’ve got here is… failure to communicate.
My apartment building is the benchmark for failed communication. By design. We have no on-site Super. He, his old lady, cousins, aunts and nieces flew the coop a long time ago. They knew a dump when they saw one and left.
As a consequence my fellow tenants and I are refugees on a rent-stabilized life boat floating in a sea of condo-fying land sharks. Our domicile/raft lists in accordance to the caprice of our “Superintendent”. Occasionally one of his hired “help” will endeavor to punch a hole in it— and that’s usually when we call the 311. Or 911. But I digress.
Yesterday afternoon I found an attempt at superintendent/tenant communication that made me feel so good I simply had to pass it along.
Who is the Super of this building?
More importantly, what are his (or her) salary requirements and is he (or she) willing to move to Greenpoint?
Miss Heather
Blowing Chunks on Bedford Avenue
Today I am going to feature two examples of north Brooklyn Halloween goodness for all to enjoy. On top of the daily dose Greenpoint Halloween decor, I am going to feature one hailing from our neighbor to the south: Williamsburg. But before I unveil it, I am going to tell the tale of what led to its discovery.
My husband was in one irritating as shit mood Saturday. He went went out for breakfast; they did not serve him properly, so after drinking one cup of coffee he left. I know this because he came by my job and to bitch about it. That was at 11:00 a.m. He asked me what he should do. I told him to eat something. “But we will have lunch out later.” he said. To wit I replied:
EAT SOMETHING! WHEN YOU DON’T YOU GET CRANKY AND ACT LIKE A WHINY BITCH!
Did my husband eat anything? Tomato salad, brie/garlic butter dip, 1/2 a baguette and numerous other foodstuffs I have personally hunted, gathered and processed were awaiting his delectation. Did he eat them? No, he didn’t. So when I arrived home an hour late he was even hungrier and bitchier.
Crankyass Husband: So where do you want to go?
Me: Driggs Pizzeria.
C.H.: (silently grouses)
So off to Driggs Pizzeria we went. Every time I stopped to take pictures hubby bitched. At one point he tried to blame my coming home one hour late for him not eating so as to be prepped my coming home an hour late. I am not making this shit up.
We arrived at Driggs. Despite dining on spicy Sicilian food and ordering a bottle of Chianti hubby was still surly:
Surly Hubby: Why are you wearing a tank top with Aquarius on it? You are not an Aquarius.
Me: Does one need to be an Aquarius in order to wear an Aquarius tank top?
S.H.: I guess not.
Me: I’ll wear what I damned well please. You’re just jealous because you don’t have an Aquarius tank top.
S.H.: I’m not.
Me: You’re just jealous because I look much finer in this tank top than you would.
S.H.: I AM NOT!
Me: I think I’ll get 12 tank tops, one for each sign. When I get up in the morning I will ask myself “Who do I feel like today, perhaps a Leo?” and wear the appropriate tankie.
S.H. Let me know when you’re feeling like a Leo.
This dialog degenerated into a squabble. Grumpy Pants said he wanted to go home. I didn’t and obliged him because I had my keys and “didn’t like his attitude”. In true passive aggressive form, he acquiesced to tagging along. We walked one block and he said:
I need to go home, I don’t feel very good.
Me (thinking this was some bullshit way of saving face): Ok, fine.
I proceeded along Driggs Avenue. I get a call.
Husband: UVA moved to Driggs and North 6*.
Me: Uh, okay. Thanks.
After asking myself why he saw fit to call and tell me this, I went to King’s Pharmacy. Upon exiting, I got another call.
Husband (strangely chirpy): I feel much better now, where are you?
Me: Bedford and North 4th.
Husband: I’ll meet you, I’m at North 7th and Bedford.
When we met I immediately asked:
Why do you feel better?
Husband: I threw up in a trash can on Bedford Avenue.
Me: Why did you throw up?
Husband: I guess I shouldn’t have had wine (with lunch) on an empty stomach.
There is a lesson in the previous tale folks, but it doesn’t end there.
We clipped down North 6th to head home. That’s where we encountered this jack ‘o’ lantern.
HEY LOOK, IT’S YOU!
I enthusiastically exclaimed.
Yeah, I’m a bitch. A bitch who was happy her hubby blew chunks on Bedford Avenue instead of Greenpoint. That would have been really embarrassing.
Miss Heather
*This is wrong. My husband is not very good with street names.
Halloween Photo du Jour: Sleeping Beauty on Manhattan Avenue
Those of you who reside on my side of Greenpoint Avenue should know where the above picture taken: World of Flowers. What you may not know is the name of this slumbering cat is, indeed, Beauty. She’s actually a tuxedo cat, but has decided to showcase her dark side in the spirit of Halloween.
To close on a pumpkin-related note, the current stretch of stanktastic weather has forced the The Brooklyn Kitchen to postpone their pumpkin carving contest until Sunday, October 28 at 2:00 p.m. Pumpkins will be for sale, but you need to bring your own knife. Or I suppose you could probably purchase one such utensil in their store.
The Brooklyn Kitchen
616 Lorimer Street
Brooklyn, New York 11211
(718) 389-2982
I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that pies of the apple and pumpkin variety are promised for your delectation as well. Yum.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Needs Neuticles!
Filed under: 11211, Crazy People, East Williamsburg, East Williamsburg Brooklyn, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
I came across the above sticker yesterday on Maspeth Avenue west of Olive Street. Amused, I took a photo of it. I had my suspicions as to what “Neuticles” were, so upon arriving home I immediately Googled it. They were exactly what I thought they would be (from neuticles.com):
Over 225,000 caring pet owners Worldwide have selected Neuticles as a safe, practical and inexpensive option when neutering.
Neuticles allowing your pet to retain his natural look, self esteem and aids in the trauma associated with neutering.
I spent an hour perusing this web site. I advise you, dear readers, to do the same. It is a comedy goldmine:
Neuticles are just plain neat!
—Rush Limbaugh
I wonder when Rush saw fit to lavish this praise upon Neuticles? Was it before or after he got caught with that illicit bottle of Viagra? If he had followed his own advice and got himself some Neuticles Rush might not have found himself in the previous predicament. He also would have spared the American people a lot of pain and suffering thinking about his bloated sack of pus hot air having sex.
Believe it or not, the “satisfied customers section” is even better:
I’ve put off neutering “Crooked Joe” for months and when I found out about Neuticles and spoke to them it made me feel better about neutering. Joe not only looks the same now- but dosen’t know he’s missing anything.
He’s a guy and I wanted him to remain looking like one.
And my personal favorite:
Frodo never knew he lost anything and is just a happier little dog since he’s been neutered with Neuticles.
Perhaps the previous pet owner should rename her canine companion Scroto Baggins? Just a thought.
Those of you who are interested in this product should be advised that the (s)experts at Neuticles have a vast assortment of nut bags for you to choose from. The budget conscious ball sack connoisseur can purchase the basic, no frills “Original” model, the more effete testicular snob can spend a little extra and get the “Ultraplus” model with Scargard.
Sizes range from XL, for pets weighing 110-190 pounds (in which case one nut will cost you $189 or you can get a pair for $269) to XS, for pets weighing 3-8 pounds (in which case one nutlet will set you back $59 or a pair can be had for a measly $94). What a bargain!
Cat owners, don’t despair: they have the perfect pair of balls for your pussy. All you need to do is grab that mouse, point and click! All major credit cards are accepted.
In closing, I have to confess that I have developed Neuticle envy while writing this post. Yesterday I walked to Artist & Craftsman Supply to buy some paper mache. Such is the real estate hoax of pimping Greenpoint as being an ‘artistic’ neighborhood: artists may reside here, but there are no longer any stores here to facilitate their (my, our) habit. North Brooklyn:
Be an artist or just look like one!
So off to East Williamsburg I went. And in so doing, I became the unwitting (and unwilling) object of affection for a number of fellows along the way. Hisses, whistles and yelling greeted me as I approached the BQE. As I recounted to a friend of mine later:
…my trek to the art supply store on Metropolitan Avenue and back was a gauntlet of hisses and whistles. One especially creepy guy beckoned for me to come over to his van (!!!) and talk to him. This was on Meeker (by the BQE), which made the situation even creepier. I am fucking 30-something years old. I am NOT going to walk over to some stranger’s van and to talk to him. Much less by the BQE. The previous scenario has “coming to the back of a milk carton near you” written all over it.
Perhaps if I had a pair of Neuticles, the previous chap would have left me alone? I don’t want the “XS” model either. I want ’em SO BIG I’ll need a handtruck to carry them.
Miss Heather
Scapee The Black Cat Has ‘Scaped!
It has come to my attention that “Scapee” the cat has, in keeping with her name, escaped.
I found the above flyer at Rodney Street and South First this weekend. Anyone who has seen Scapee should contact her custodians at the above telephone number. She is sorely missed.
Miss Heather
Bedford Avenue Is…
Filed under: Williamsburg
a lot of things to a lot of people. Some people like it, other people hate it. Regardless of your stand on this subway stop, dear readers, I can state with 100% certainty that we all can agree upon one thing: most people can’t afford it. It would appear that someone who patronizes the North 7 Street and Driggs Avenue entrance of the L train shares this sentiment. As I learned today.
How very true.
Thanks Rebecca11222 for forwarding me this great image!
Miss Heather
Williamsburg’s Three Third Streets
Filed under: Williamsburg
This weekend was a 48 hour crash course in extremes. One minute I am screaming at my husband via cell phone about how Verb has the shittiest customer service on the planet (unless of course you are cool enough to deserve better— and I wasn’t). The next I discover something wonderful and completely unexpected: like what I found at the intersection of Berry and North 6 Street Saturday afternoon.
I have read that Bedford Avenue, Berry Street, Wythe Avenue, etc., were once numerically named, e.g.; Fourth Street, Third Street and Second Street respectively. This was the first time I have actually seen physical evidence of it outside of old maps. Here is a section from a map of the Village of Williamsburgh from 1850 showing the old system. I have annotated it with a few contemporary street names to make it easier to get one’s bearings.
Williamsburg once had (for example) three “3rd Streets”: 3rd Street, 3rd Street and South 3rd Street. Not unlike how the television show Newhart had Larry, Darryl and Darryl. Pretty damned confusing if you ask me. This is why I wish to give a big New York Shitty salute to the unsung hero who named Greenpoint’s northernmost streets alphabetically. I can honestly say the Garden Spot is the only place I have never gotten lost.
Miss Heather
NYS Flickr Pool
