Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Lamest Sidewalk Sale Ever
Filed under: Williamsburg
Anyone who lives in my corner of Brooklyn will tell you Bedford Avenue is sidewalk sale central. Go there on any given Saturday or Sunday and you will find a bounty of used sundries for sale. Some are even worth buying.
Or, in the case of what I found recently, some aren’t. In fact, these wares were not even worth stealing, as you will see.
My buddy Rachael and I found the above vestiges of a sidewalk sale yesterday on North 11th Street. Being the hungry little scavengers we are, we got our surgical gloves, anti-bacterial baby wipes and dug in.
We found the above sign very amusing. “What kind of dumbfuck would sleep with a trunk of stuff just lying there?” I said.
Everyone knows the people around here will steal anything, even stuff they don’t need. ESPECIALLY stuff they don’t need.
Rachael said, completing my thought. She does this often.
Once we learned what the trunk contained, however, it all began to make sense.
Follows is a sampling of what this treasure trove had to offer:
- One pair of sneakers
- One pair of women’s dress pumps
- One pair of women’s pin stripe dress slacks
- One pair of beige boots
- One pair of business loafers
- One can of Lysol
Save the sneakers (and maybe the Lysol), all the contents were components of a corporate casual monkey suit. No wonder the conductor of this sidewalk sale decided to take a nap: no Bedford Avenue goer is going to touch this stuff. It is like offering a vampire a bag of garlic, having a blow-out sale of bacon double cheeseburgers at the local synagogue— or offering a follower of Allah a bag of pork rinds. It is an abomination beyond the pale.
Too bad no one took the Lysol, though. It would save some Northsider a lot of time and money that would otherwise be spent doing laundry*.
Miss Heather
*My first boyfriend used to spray the armpits of his tee shirts with Lysol instead of washing them. Nice guy. Smelled sort of like a high school nurse’s office, though.
Crack WHAT?!?
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Some days my neighborhood is a mindfuck a minute. Wednesday was one of those days. As I was walking along McGuinness Boulevard (because some of the finest things to be had in Greenpoint are usually located there) I found this.
As I was waiting to cross the street at Driggs, there it was: CRACK PROS. I could not stop laughing. McGuinness Boulevard has a lot of crack: ass CRACK, phat bags of CRACK (and the people who consume them who, more often than not, have ass crack) and now, presumably, foundation cracks. Thank god we have the CRACK PROS to help us!
Most of my experience as a corporate wage slave involved answering telephones to one degree or another. This is what the business sector does with young women with pleasant-sounding voices (regardless of work experience or education): stick them behind a desk and give them a telephone to answer. Much of my misanthropy comes from interfacing with the public in this manner. One can only understand how truly unredeemable the human race really is by answering telephones at some corporate hellhole. Even if only for a day.
That said, I might be willing to answer telephones for this establishment. The prospect of being paid (albeit meagerly) for rattling off crack jokes for hours on end is almost too good to pass up.
Good morning, CRRRRRRRACK PROS. How may I direct your call?
Sir, could you describe the nature of the crack you are experiencing so I can direct you to the appropriate CRACK PRO?
That’s quite a crack problem you have sir, let’s see if I can connect you with one of our crack prevention specialists.
Sure I’d probably get fired, but think of all the cracktastic fun I would have in the meantime! I wonder if these guys have tee shirts? If they do, I want one.
Miss Heather
Poles Without Pants
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
This may sound silly, but I always find going to my friend Rachael’s apartment a trip. Located on Diamond Street between Driggs and Nassau Avenue, her home is in the heart of “Little Poland”. Although my apartment is only a half mile way, it might as well be a million; I live in the largely Hispanic area to the north. Follows is a little sampling of Greenpoint kielbasa glory I found on the way to my friend’s place this afternoon.
You just don’t see stuff like this on my side of Greenpoint Avenue.
And quite frankly, I’m glad.
Miss Heather
A Couple Upcoming Events
Filed under: Area 51
I got word this week that Not For Tourists will be having a sioree to celebrate the launch of their 2008 New York Guidebook. Here are the deets:
WHEN: Sept. 28, 2007 6:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m.
WHERE: Spiegelworld
Pier 17, South Street Seaport
New York, New York
WHO: Not For Tourists founder and publisher Jane Pirone will be available to discuss the Not For Tourist series and answer any questions that fans may have.
HOW (MUCH): FREE! Guests will receive a complimentary copy of the Not For Tourists Guide to New York City 2008 and FREE beer provided by Heartland Brewery.
Those of you who are interested can download the invitation by going to Not For Tourists web site. I am a big fan of these guides; I use them frequently when I knock around neighborhoods I do not know very well. They’re a real lifesaver when you find yourself getting lost. And I do. Often. Check it out!
In addition, today is the last day to RSVP for the blogger meet-up this upcoming Saturday, September 30 in Bedford Stuyvesant. Those of you who are interested in attending* can get more information by clicking here.
Miss Heather
*I will not be attending because of a scheduling conflict with something my husband very much wants to do. Occasionally I humor him. This is one of those occasions.
High Rise
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I found this “up-zoned” bike as I was walking down Norman Avenue Tuesday. Looks like the high rise hysteria here has even affected the two wheel set. What will be next? A triple decker with balconies and scenic city views? Whoops, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to give the folks at Belvedere Realty any ideas. Oh well.
Miss Heather
Or…
Filed under: Dog Shit Signage
I have said on numerous occasions my favorite dog shit signs are the ones that involve threats of physical violence. I haven’t seen any around here lately and frankly I was beginning to worry that the Garden Spot might be losing its special charm. Good thing I walked down Meserole Avenue yesterday.
I feel a lot better now. Or do I? That pitchfork-looking thing is sort of sinister. Those of you who have the time, I strongly recommend you walk by 170 Diamond Street and check out the assortment of signs this person has erected. Most of them have this symbol on them. Pretty weird. Maybe this he (or she) is gearing up for Halloween?
Miss Heather
Great Moments In Greenpoint Siding, Volume X
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I am proud to announce that Greenpoint represented today on the Leonard Lopate Show. My submission (for their ugly buildings tour de force), the “Frankenhouse” (depicted above), was selected! You can listen to me talk about this more Greenpoint than Greenpoint edifice and my overall fixation with all things siding-related* by clicking here.
Miss Heather
*I even cite some siding stats!
Fundamentally Flawed Flyer
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Firstly, it is not the purpose of this post to malign the creator of the following flyer. Rather, I find the copy he (or she) employed fundamentally flawed. But before I go into my line of reasoning for making the previous assertion, let’s take a look at it shall we?
Hmm. Posting this missive in Polish, Spanish and English was an excellent idea. Expecting someone to come forward two years after the incident came to pass is probably futile, but one never knows. Two people clearly saw someone fall down stairs on Huron Street in December of 2005, why else would he (or she) have removed one of the tabs? Therein lies the rub:
- It is prudent to assume that a neighborhood which has pervasive alcoholism or other forms of substance abuse (Greenpoint has both) is going to have a significant number of people who have fallen down.
- It is not unreasonable to assume a few of the previous spills took place on stairs. Stairs are the arch-nemesis of the intoxicated. I speak from experience when I write this.
- Therefore, it is a very likely more than one person fell down stairs on Huron Street in December 2005.
In closing, I hope the victim of this fall finds the person he (or she) is looking for. I really do. That said, I cannot help but suspect this person is going to be inundated with callers— and I find this comical, albeit in a tragic sort of way.
Miss Heather
Fistful of Squalor
Sometimes I wish someone (listening Mikeypod?) would do a podcast from the junk shop. A number of the conversations had there are rather witty and intelligent. Others are not. Like the conversation(s) which arose from the following.
See the above assortment of currency? This is what provoked my latest verbal assault on a customer. I have procrastinated posting this because frankly I do not like to think about it. In hindsight, it was probably pretty amusing.
It started like this.
I am behind the counter doing what I do: sorting stuff. The music is playing, as always. Since I was located near the speakers I was isolated from the from the din of hagglers haggling and chiselers and chiseling, until…
Larry da Junkman: SEVEN DOLLARS!
Customer holding a stock pot: (indecipherable)
Larry: Seven dollars, if you were to buy this from another store the tax alone would be more than that.
Customer: (indecipherable but clearly still haggling)
Larry walks off.
I have witnessed the above exchange many times. Sometimes it is over a set of sheets, “$2.00 is too much” they said. Another time it is over a $10.00 strand of pearls, “But they’re for my daughter.” they said. The list goes on and on, as do they. The amount of work these people put into knocking a few cents off some knick knack or another is fascinating. When they try to get devious about it, it gets downright hilarious.
True to Greenpoint chiseler form, this woman waits until Larry is out of earshot and approaches me. Stock pot in hand she comes to the counter. She plunks down a couple of bills, concealed beneath them is an assortment of change. I remove the bills. This is clearly not seven dollars.
Customer: Seven dollars, yes?
Me: This is not seven dollars.
Customer: Seven dollars, yes?
Me: THIS IS NOT SEVEN DOLLARS!
Larry: Just take it so she’ll get out of here.
Me: Fine. (I take the money, put it in the till and go back to work, she’s still standing there with a big insipid smile on her face)
Customer: A bag, yes?
Me: No.
Customer: Bag?
Me: No. You didn’t pay the asking price, you are not getting a bag.
I go back to work and she is still standing there.
Customer: Bag?
Me: That’ll cost you extra.
Larry’s colleague Jay, who happens to be seated within earshot of this repetitive exchange, is laughing.
Customer: Bag?
Me: NO. You did not pay the asking price for that pot and yet you ask me for a bag. Leave.
Customer: Bag?
Me: You crack me up. Would you like me to take the thing fucking home for you? Would you like me to do that? God, what is your problem?
Then I summarily threw a bag over the counter and went back to work.
Jay finally spoke up:
I wouldn’t have given her that bag.
Me: I didn’t want to, you know. I only did it so she would fuck off.
She was standing two feet in front of me when I said this. Did it faze her? Absolutely not. Such is the level of abuse these people are willing to withstand in order to get what they want. In this case, 28 cents and a bag. Damned pathetic if you ask me.
Miss Heather
The Decline of Western Civilization
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Pundits have all sorts of reasons for America’s decline in status on the world stage. Although not an economist, sociologist, or political science major, I too have an opinion on this phenomenon. You want to know why other countries (at least the few left that don’t hate us) think we’re stupid and lazy? Here you go.
I found this sign in the bathroom at a strip mall on McGuinness Boulevard.
Miss Heather
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