Greenpoint: The Napping Spot

After reeling from yesterday’s revelation that Sotheby’s has seen fit to market a rather craptastic ‘townhouse’ in my humble neighborhood, I have managed to recompose myself. The fact they would even touch a property like this is proof-positive that ANYONE will hawk ANYTHING if the neighborhood “Greenpoint” associated with it. It’s friggin’ ridiculous.

I have been increasingly bemoaning the fact that my neighborhood is rapidly becoming a bedroom community for trustifarian kids and affluent wannabe ‘hip’ 40+ somethings. There is not the same sense of community here there once was. This depresses me to no end— and when I get the blues (like yesterday) I go for a walk.

As I was headed home from a four hour jaunt I swung by McCarren Park to use the bathroom. That’s when I saw a trio of middle-aged Polish women yammering away on a park bench. I don’t know what they were talking about (I do not speak Polish). But whatever it was it must have been pretty interesting because they didn’t seem to notice the homeless dude passed out on a mattress fifteen feet in front of them.

In fact they didn’t seem to notice his buddies either. This is understandable; being the sensible chaps they were, they opted to sleep in the shade.

New York City may be the city that never sleeps, but Greenpoint is it’s napping spot. Fuck, you’ll find people crashed out all over the goddamn place!

I for one am of the belief the above gentleman were hired by the real estate industry as a selling tool. When John Q. Fucktard outlays a ridiculous sum of money for his spiffy new condominium (on Karl Fischer Row, naturally) that ‘gritty’, ‘urban’ feel better be built right in! Even authenticity has a price nowadays— and it ain’t cheap.

That’s what I call good ol’ American entrepreneurship!

Miss Heather

Greenpoint: You’ve Come A Long Way Baby!

It’s official.

We have arrived.

God help us.

Miss Heather

Free Booze and New Fall Fashions at Alter!

I actually got word about this last week but have been so busy I almost forgot about it. Almost. Per the email I got from Tommy and Roy (AKA: The Alter Boys):

We have just received hundreds of pieces of new merchandise, including:

MEN– Coats, Sweaters, Jackets, Vintage Boots, Shoes, Vests, T- Shirts & more.
WOMEN– Coats, Sweaters, Dresses, Tops, Heels, Flats, Leather Boots & more.

Get it while it’s HAUTE! This stuff is going to FLY out the door- so get in here on Tuesday before the
rest of the town does! There will be an open champagne bar (that means free champs ya’ll) and decadent snack treats.

’till then!

Free champagne is pretty hard to beat folks. Check it out!

Miss Heather

Poland Spring

Some things go beautifully together.

Chocolate and peanut butter, Bogey and Bacall, automotive repair and barbecued ribs— all the previous are examples of perfect pairings. Other things, however, should never be put together.

1. Greenpoint’s sewage treatment plant…

which happens to be located on 2. Newtown Creek (above) and…

and 3. a depot housing delivery trucks for Poland Spring water.

This is so wrong— and yet, so right— on so many levels.

Miss Heather

The Columbian Cartel

It would appear that my post about 37 North Henry Street hit a nerve. You know, when I reread the previously-mentioned post the following day there was a brief moment when I thought to myself:

Perhaps I was a little harsh?

Now it has become apparent I wasn’t. What’s more, this less-than-professional piece of correspondence serves as proof they are paying attention. Even on a Saturday night —which is when I received this turd. Now if I could only manage to piss off all the spammers pitching me penis enhancement pills, I’d be all aces.

Fortunately, I also received a very nice (and very funny) email from the Co-Pastor of the Greenpoint Reformed Church. As the following excerpt indicates, she too has been under siege by the Columbian Cartel. She writes:

Dear Miss Heather,

First off, thank you for the wonderful public service you provide with your blog. You make me proud to call myself a Greenpointer. Of course, some of the locals may call me other things…

I write to you today with an idea. For years, we here at the one-time smallest church in North Brooklyn, have been a part of the autumn-migration pattern of the Columbia University Journalism School student. Originally a novel experience, it has grown to become a minor nuisance. Jesus, of course, commands us to welcome the stranger, so it is difficult to refuse to sit down with a clueless fresh off the U-haul grad student. Nonetheless, it does take a significant amount of time and often ends with being misquoted at that. I gather that as our neighborhood-webdiva-extraordinare you, too, have become a part of this graduate school rite of passage.

Now, on to the idea…last week my clergy colleagues (yes, there are actually four mainline Protestant clergy in GP, though you might not have imagined this) and I gathered for coffee and discussed the fact that each of us had spent significant time that week with one or more j-school kids. Perhaps, we thought, we could organize one giant meeting of all of us with all of the j-students and then be done with them for the year. Seeing as you are now a part of this illustrious group of Greenpointers targeted for interviews, perhaps you would like to join us as we organize such an event. I’m not sure it would benefit us to do it this year, perhaps we’re already interviewed out, but we might definitely manage to get it done for next year. Any thoughts?

Thanks again for keeping tabs on the neighborhood.

WOW… and thanks! You know a situation is totally out of control when church leaders convene to discuss it. Imagine that: the Garden Spot’s very own Council of Trent. Who knows, maybe an Auto de Fe will be next? Get out your marshmallows, fellow Greenpointers! It’s time to roast us some heretics!

Miss Heather