Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Greenpoint Photo du Jour: Kill Devil Hill
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Saturday night I noticed the storefront at 170 Franklin Street has a new tenant. Over the years I have seen many a business come and go from this space so it’ll be interesting to see if this one “sticks”. My curiosity is killing me as to what “Kill Devil Hill” will be. Anyone out there in the know? If so, do share.
Miss Heather
P.S. Here is neat little bit of background info I received from a reader about the origin of “Kill Devil Hill”. Doug D. writes:
Kill Devil Hill is the name of the place the Wright Bros. took their first flight airplane to test and is the place of their first flight. Its in NC.
http://www.killdevilhills.com/ for more
My guess is the shop owners may be from NC or OH.
I’ve been there, The Wright bros are from my home town of Dayton, Ohio. And before building airplanes they made and sold bicycles. I rode my bike from Dayton to FL in 2000, and went through NC and Kill Devil Hills on my way.
HALLELUJAH!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Friday evening the Mister and I were strolling down Manhattan Avenue. As we passed 1000 Manhattan Avenue something struck me as being different. At first I couldn’t out my finger on it so I stopped, turned around and walked back.
Yes folks, the inconceivable has indeed come to pass. That hideous “crutch” blighting this block is GONE!
Not believing my eyes, I swung by the next day. Still no crutch! Wishing to gauge how my fellow Greenpointers were adapting to this radical change in their environment, I crossed the street and stood watch.
As you can see, this woman mastered the newly unobstructed stretch of sidewalk like a pro. If any of you have the time and/or inclination to go out in this nasty weather, head to 1000 Manhattan Avenue and partake of this newly liberated sidewalk yourself!
Miss Heather
TONIGHT: Cupcake Cook-off
Filed under: Williamsburg
This evening the Brooklyn Kitchen will be hosting its second annual Cupcake Cook-off at Union Pool. Per their announcement attendees (that means you) will be expected to consume some of said cupcakes. It is a difficult task, I know, but I am certain a number of you, dear readers, are up to it. Here are the deets for anyone interested in entering this event:
- It runs from 6:00 – 9:00 p.m.
- Entrants must submit their completed cupcakes before the 7:00 p.m. deadline.
- Six cupcakes are required for the official judging and extras will be used for the “popular vote”.
- The prize categories are as follows: Plain and Simple Flavor, Plain and Simple Decoration, Exotic Flavor,
Exotic Decoration and of course Best of Show.
Union Pool
484 Union Avenue
Brooklyn, New York 11211
Happy sugar coma!
Miss Heather
Canine Couture In North Brooklyn
I recently bumped into the person who keeps Mordred, the best dressed Chihuahua in Greenpoint. Her keeper (I will not disclose this person’s name) said to me:
Someone (upon recognizing Mordred) came up to me and asked “Are you Heather?”
Anticipating the worst (I have had lit cigarettes flicked at me for no other reason than being alive), I asked:
Was she nice?
Mordred’s Person replied:
At first I was confused because I have a good friend named Heather. But she said she was a big fan of your blog.
To wit I said:
You should have said you were me. I wouldn’t mind.
I mention this because yesterday on Graham Avenue I discovered Mordred has some stiff competition as the foremost four-legged fashionista of north Brooklyn.
Meet Dixie Cup. She is a resident of Williamsburg and just like her person sports a bone fide Mohawk. Check out the leopard print frock. Very nice.
Also of note are her assless pants. Or would these be chaps? In any case they are very David Lee Roth-esque. Maybe that’s why he wore them? It wasn’t exhibitionism: he simply didn’t want to drop trou in order to go to the bathroom.
Thoughts, anyone?
Miss Heather
I Am Squirrel, Hear Me Roar!
It’s Monday. For most people Monday sucks. Usually because it entails some unforeseen fuck up that happened at work over the weekend. You could settle for your boss yelling at you— or you could opt out for a much cuter option.
Meet Squirrel. This little guy’s eyes opened a few days ago. Now his mouth is compensating for it.
Now get back to work already!
Miss Heather
Photo/Kitty Credits: Lisacat. Anyone interested in adopting Squirrel (or the many other wonderful fur kids in her care) should contact Lisa at: lisacatv (at) yahoo (dot) com.
Ode To A Door Knob
Or as our friends across the pond like to say: door handle.
Few things are so pervasive, yet so uncelebrated as the lowly door knob. Think about it. How many emotionally charged moments in your life have involved this mundane servant of humanity?
- Have you ever been locked out of your apartment? That door knob was there to bear silent testimony to your plight (and wrath).
- Ever had a nasty argument with your significant other/spouse and elected to exit your apartment by making the dramatic statement of slamming the door? That door knob was your accomplice.
Door knobs are much more interesting than you think. I say this not only as a door knob user, but also as a drop-out from “professional workforce”. If a Human Resources Expert was to read my resume, he (or she) would deem me an abject failure. And in all fairness, I probably am. I, on the other hand, see it as ten (plus years) of wage slavery with a hefty helping of Schadenfreude (READ: blue chip cocktail party material) to assuage the pain of underemployment.
Which brings me back to door knobs.
At one point in my less than stellar career I worked as a Receptionist for a state agency that worked with victims of violent crime. The function of this entity was to give money to (uninsured) victims of violent crime to cover medical bills, “rape kits”, funerals, etc.
If you want to delve into humanity at its absolute worst a state crime victim’s board is the place to see it. If you can imagine it, I can assure you somebody has already done it. In the most vile and disgusting fashion possible. As a Receptionist I not only had to field calls from a lot of angry people wanting to know if/when their money (for example) their child’s anti-depressants will come (because the board had a backlog), but I also had to deal with a very dysfunctional staff. In other words it was the kind of job that made you want to go home and empty your liquor cabinet. EVERY NIGHT.
Nonetheless my lowly sinecure was darkly amusing at times.
CASE IN POINT
One of my (numerous) responsibilities was filing “crime blotter” clippings. One day I came across a gem and decided to bring it to the attention of one of my co-workers.
Miss H: Get a load of this. Some guy died of metallic poisoning. He had nuts and bolts in his stomach and a door knob shoved up his ass. The police called it a suicide*.
Caseworker: How old was he?
Miss H: I dunno, not young but not old. 40, I think.
Caseworker: He should have known better.
Miss H: ?
Caseworker: He was old enough to know better than to shove a door knob up his ass.
Not knowing what to make of this I retreated to the sanctity of my desk. I have never seen a door knob the same way since.
That is until last Saturday when I spied this beauty at The Thing.
Needless to say I have made this item my own. Living in an age where cheap and disposable schlockitecture is the norm in my neighborhood (and New York City in general) this is an all too sad reminder of a time when even the lowliest fixtures of a public institution were made to please the eye.
Barack Obama speaks of the audacity of hope. I wish to make a case for the audacity of beauty. Is this, for the best city on earth, too much to ask?
Miss Heather
P.S.: I wanted to install this fixture on our front door but it won’t fit. But being under 40 I can, with peace of mind, put it to a more nefarious use.
*It was later ruled a homicide. Duh.
Last Minute Gift Giving Ideas For Mother’s Day
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
A question I find myself asking more and more nowadays is as follows:
When we will we as a society pull our collective head out of our ass and get our priorities straight?
After all, I live in a neighborhood where:
- Luxury condominiums are the standard, yet more and more families are flooding into the local food pantry.
- Five banks can be found in a two block radius south of Greenpoint Avenue but nary such an institution can be found to the north.
- Bars are proliferating, but the selection of restaurants (unless of course, one likes Thai food— A LOT) is becoming more and more sparse.
Yes sir, if you love you some psychics, booze, Thai food, banks and pet supply stores, Greenpoint is the place to be. If you need to eat, buy housewares or something for Mother’s Day (like the rest of us) this arrangement presents certain challenges.
Which brings me to this.
This is the window at Just For Fun, a stationery/novelty store on Manhattan Avenue. As you can see, the theme is Mother’s Day. I am terrible about remembering such holidays. Thankfully these folks have a number of great gift-giving ideas for prodigal children like me.
Perfume, lighters shaped like the Statue of Liberty, edible underwear— all are excellent ways of telling mom how much you love her on Mother’s Day.
Those of you who are diet conscious will be pleased as punch to learn these great tasting strawberry flavored skivvies are also LOW IN CARBOHYDRATES! What will these unsung geniuses think of next? Control top edible underwear? I can only hope so.
Miss Heather
Happy Mother’s Day From New York Shitty!
Filed under: Williamsburg
I found this tableau on Graham Avenue and felt it was the perfect image to give props to mothers, on this, their day. If it wasn’t for moms (and in most cases mattresses*) none of us would be here. Thanks!
Miss Heather
*Not me! Two words: Shag rug.
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: Roy Rogers And Dale Evans Style
Filed under: Williamsburg
From South 5th Street.
Miss Heather
Another Saturday At Studio B
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
The numerous building and fire code “irregularities” barely scratch the surface as to my fascination with this establishment. No matter what time of day I walk by there always seems to be something going on. Yesterday afternoon was no exception.
It was 3:30 p.m. when I saw a minivan park in front of Studio B. Intrigued, I hung around to see what would happen next.
Man steps out of minivan, walks to the front door and stares at work permit.
Bear with me, I’m going somewhere with this.
Having read said permit, man returns to van and waits.
One block away I notice HE IS STILL WAITING. What is this man waiting for? Does he want to make sure he gets into this evening’s event? He hardly looks like the Studio B type. Or is he?
Thankfully I walked by again around midnight. Not only were things starting hop (and the rooftop garden appeared to be closed) but across the street I found a very curious item jammed in a window sill.
And then it all made sense. Next thing you know Bob Dole will be down there trying peddle his little blue pills to get around paying Studio B’s exorbitant cover charge.
Miss Heather
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