Greenpoint Photos Du Jour: Rule Number 106006
Filed under: 11101, 11222, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Long Island City, Long Island City Queens, Newtown Creek
Taken October 10, 2010.
Miss Heather
Long Island City Street Art Du Jour: The 51st Avenue Three
Filed under: 11101, Crazy Cat Lady, Long Island City, Long Island City Queens, Street Art
Taken October 10, 2010.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Slide Show Du Jour: Veni, Vidi, Vici!
As I have mentioned— or at least intimated— this morning I got up bright and early morning so as to prepare myself for the Digester Egg Experience. I prepared my outfit for the day the night before: Subtexture’s awesome Greenpoint tee featuring the ‘Tits (as customized by yours truly) paired with coordinating pants. The sneakers? I will readily admit they do not coordinate: but they are pretty much the only thing I have in the way of sturdy “closed-toed” shoes. In this respect I think some leeway is allowed. Let’s face facts: I was not exactly going to have tea with the Queen. Rather, I was going to see the largest waste treatment plant in New York City. One man on our “tour” called the digester eggs “those Turkish dome looking things”. I corrected him:
Hereabouts we call them the Shit Tits.
And see them I did— along with the “Flushing Camera Club” (this made me giggle like a teenager) and a couple of folks that could be best described as sewage treatment “foamers”. I was not quick enough on the draw to get their questions/commentary. So it goes. But I did enjoy one volunteer admonishing us not to smoke— and a fellow OHNY goer asking why.
Methane gas.
The vollie relied. To wit I added:
Click, BOOM!
He found this tremendously amusing. My fellow tourists not so much. Anyhoo (and without further ado) follows are some shots from the Shit Tits. Enjoy!
As always you can view this slide show in larger format by clicking here.
Miss Heather.
Thumbnail Credit: Mister Heather
Greenpoint Fashion Watch: Meet Santos
Filed under: 11222, Advanced Life Forms, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Planet Entitlement
Today was a very long one for yours truly. First was the tour of the Shit Tits. That was a pleasure for yours truly. It was when I went to work that things got interesting. When I arrived at the junk shop I heard the strains of death metal. This is not a good sign. To share a trade secret— a Greenpoint Jedi mind trick, if you will— Meshuggah finds its way onto the company stereo for one reason and one reason only: when there is someone present in the store we would very much like to depart. This is a passive aggressive tactic to be certain— but it works!
What I stumbled upon this morning was no exception. When I entered the junk shop no less than four twenty-somethings were sitting in chairs (which are for sale, not lease) conversing like they were in their own living room. Quite frankly I was dumbstruck. Perhaps I am old fashioned, but I cannot for the life of me comprehend how someone— anyone— would consider this to be acceptable behavior. But clearly some people do— and I digress.
After they left (hall raked by the aforementioned death metal— I had polka music waiting in the wings lest it was needed) a parade of people came and went who needed to be experienced to truly be believed. To cite an example: why would someone want a price for a Palm Pilot if he does not know what it is— much less what it does?* I am still trying to figure this one out. Once again: it was a long day. But when I saw Santos I had to smile…
and could not resist asking him about his choice of apparel. He informed me:
There are a lot of weird people here. You have to watch what you wear or they will try to talk to you. Men, we have to watch what we wear… women, they can get away with anything. Have you seen the women over there (pointing towards Nassau Avenue)? They’re CRAZY.
I could not have said it better myself. For those of you who are wondering Santos says J.C. Penney is a great place to buy t-shirts. Do I smell an enticing endorsement deal around the corner— or is it just Greenpoint?
Miss Heather
*My reply:
I don’t know. I don’t work in an office.
Found At McCarren Park: Urinal
Filed under: 11211, 11222, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
Miss Mousey Brown (who found this delightful item) writes:
Did you drop your portable urinal, replete with sporty piss purse? It is southwest of the soccer field.
I suppose this IS better than the “repurposed” water/beer bottles (READ: trucker bombs) I usually find hereabouts.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Pay Phone Du Jour: Disconnected
Over the last couple of weeks yours truly has noticed the above pay phone (which is located at 1005 Manhattan Avenue) has become rather popular with certain individuals in my community. Or to put it more accurately: one man will use the phone while his buddies (all of whom seem to have a lot of free time on their hands) hang around and wait. This very scenario came to pass last Thursday. They were there for at least 20 minutes. Some may say it takes a village to raise a child, but in yours truly’s experience it does not take a team of buddies to call one’s mother— if you know what I mean. Suffice it to say I found this activity to be more than a little suspicious. Now jump forward to today: October 9, 2010.
It would appear I am not the only person who has taken notice of this phenomenon.
What I find fascinating is how this anonymous saboteur not only saw fit to remove the receiver in its entirety— cord and all— but went to the additional trouble of filling the coin slot with grout. The final “fuck you”, if you will, is the fact he (or she) left the bottle cap with which he (or she) applied said grout on the top of said phone. I’m guessing so as to make it clear this was not an accident.
So it goes on the wild west fringe of the County of Kings: Greenpoint Brooklyn, USA.
Miss Heather
Maspeth Photos Du Jour: Bob
This evening my buddy Carnade and I went on a quick sojourn around Newtown Creek. It was at the end of 58th Road that we met Bob. He seemed surprised by us and we were certainly surprised to encounter him: a man in a van smoking a cigar and watching the world go by. We explained to him we were taking photographs of the creek. This interested him (a retired DEP employee) considerably and he told us stories about coming to Newtown Creek in the 1950’s a child. Bob then proceeded to explain to us why he happened to be in such a desolate area on a Saturday evening: he is not allowed by his wife to smoke cigars. Period. He clarifies:
So I come down here, have my cigar and turn on Sean Hannity. That gets my anger going.
Your secret is safe with us, Bob!
Miss Heather
You must be logged in to post a comment.