Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Let the litigation begin!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Yesterday evening I received the following email from Larry Schwab, the manager of 131 Huron Street:
As promised, I am informing you that 110 Green Street Development LLC has brought an Order to Show Cause against [myself] 131 Huron St Assoc Inc to show why he should be granted a license to enter onto my property. The hearing will be held at Part 16 of the Courthouse located at 360 Adams Street Brooklyn NY on April 27, 2007 at 9:30 AM.[this can change as legal maneuvers take over] In his papers the Petitioner 110 Green Street Development LLC, depicts himself a victim of unreasonable neighbors (! — Ed. Note). He alleges to have acceded to all demands previously set forth. Is that true??
Will keep you posted
Larry Schwab
This is a catch 22 if I ever saw one. Even if 110 Green Street is denied access to Schwab’s property, who’s to say they won’t pull a ‘106 Green’ and let themselves in anyway?
Miss Heather
106 Green Street Redux
After chatting with my (new-ish) neighbor at 106 Green Street my curiosity got the better of me; I wanted to see the (now) infamous 106 Green Street hole. So, with mother in tow, I walked down there and looked for it. Given that the Orwellian wall fronting 110 Green Street is at least ten feet tall (and I’m not), I couldn’t determine where it was with 100% certainty, but this looks a viable candidate.
Let me tell you, dear readers, a little something about 106 Green Street: from roughly 1997 to 2002 a couple friends of mine lived in this very building. They would often have barbeques on the roof. Usually on the 4th of July or Labor Day. The one “rule” the attendees had to follow during the festivites was NOT to walk/stand on the southern section of the roof. This was because they had been admonished by their landlord, “Abe”, that he had removed a number of ceiling joists in order to install a skylight. Bearing the previous in mind, let’s take a look where this ‘weak spot’ is located in relation to the above-depicted missing bricks.
I s’pose the folks upstairs got off easy having a mere four square foot hole torn in their wall right before the Valentine’s Day blizzard hit; their whole fucking roof could’ve come down instead! I have been told by a current resident of 106 Green Street that the landlord assured him that he was reinforcing this stretch of ceiling with sheet metal. And maybe he is— but I’ll only believe it when I see it. You see, “Abe” also told this person (before he moved in) that there would be no pile-driving next door…
Miss Heather
Waterfront Preservation Alliance Benefit
Filed under: Area 51
This morning a commentor brought this benefit to my attention. “Knotslaning” wrote:
I know you love the hood so I thought you might be interested in attending a benefit for the hood. Check this link for more information.
Thanks Candace (aka knotslaning, fellow greenpointier)
I am a little disturbed that this did not come to my attention earlier. I have not seen this flyer anywhere. Then again, I have spent more time outside of my home ‘hood of late (entertaining family and all) than usual.
Speaking for myself, I will probably donate $20 outright and pass on the benefit because holding court with The Dowager of Dog Shit (aka my mother) for entire week has worn my ass out. Not only did she throw the proprietess of Word Books for a loop*, but she was kind enough (after a couple of glasses of wine) to inform my husband that I was conceived in Garland, Texas. Thankfully, my mother was merciful enough not to tell her son-in-law what facilitated this fortituitous event: a shag rug and a bottle of cold duck.
I learned that when I was 16 years old and it has fucked with my head ever since. The only consolation about being conceived in Garland (and being born nine months later in WACO) is the only direction to go after such an inauspicious beginning is UP. And I have: Greenpoint.
Miss Heather
*Her email read as follows:
Hey. I just can’t tell you how much I love the fact that your mother (who’s adorable by the way) asked for FORK ME SPOON ME, THE SENSUOUS COOKBOOK. It must be the meth talking. 😉
By the way, I’m crossing my fingers that you have hot water again and that you don’t have to be dirty while your mom visits. You are welcome to use the bathroom at the bookstore, it’s got a big sink.
xo C
Missing Monkey
Filed under: Area 51
I found this poster on Bedford Avenue last weekend when I was playing ‘tour guide’ (for my mother and cousin). This is either a desperate attempt to recover a plush monkey emcee or it is the one of the most brilliant examples of viral marketing I have ever seen. (The fact that he was last seen on the Q train is a nice touch.) If they put “Missing” photos like this on milk cartons I’d be a helluva lot more likely to read them. (Yeah, hell holds a special place for me.) Either way, I felt this deserved dissemination to the general public.
If anyone out there has seen “Mr. Monkey”, please contact the fine folks at The Violet Hour. He is clearly missed.
Miss Heather
Starbuck’s N***a!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Now that my mother is safely on her way to the Land of Enchantment (replete with meth and trailer), I find myself woefully behind on my correspondence. Those of you who have emailed me and have yet to receive a response, it is nothing personal. I am simply all talked out right now. As I write this tome I am sipping an ice cold beer and enjoying something I have not experienced in about a week: being alone.
Anyhoo, I received the following email from my Poo Bag Dispensing Buddy:
Subject: I am sure you are aware of this…
but i had to send this to you.
im not sure when it opened since i haven’t been very detailed oriented this past week or so. i’ve been a walking zombie actually, but that is neither here nor there. (Boy, do I ever understand that! — Ed. Note) anyway, today on my way home from the garden with a cup of some delicious soup for lunch, i passed three girls walking the opposite direction. each about 12 years old or so sipping on strawberry mocha frappa-half-caff-with-whip-chinos. the girl in the middle announced, “I am like sooooo happy that we finally have a starbucks near us!”. the other girls like, totally agreed.
then this evening i had to get off the bus one stop early so could take a picture of it. I hadn’t yet seen it all lit up like this. wow.
is it odd that the brand new sign is already half burnt out?
To answer your question, my comrade in the war against caca, I am not the least bit surprised this sign is malfunctioning. I am certain you have heard of places that are reputed ‘hot spots’ for one kind of activity or another. For example, planes and people tend to disappear in the Bermuda Triangle and UFOs are fond of making visitations to Roswell and most of south Florida. I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone— human or otherwise— would want to go to the latter, but I digress.
As it happens, our neighborhood is also one such magical place. I call the unnatural phenomenon that exists here “The Greenpoint Effect”. “What is The Greenpoint Effect”, you ask? It is not very easy to describe so I will cite some examples of it ‘at work’.
- Any subway poster bearing an image of a person with his (or her) mouth open will eventually (via Sharpie Marker) have a penis inserted into it.
- Any person who moves here (by choice) is an eccentric. Anyone who lives here for an extended period of time will only become more so. This ‘nabe is not unlike a terrarium; it is a hermetic environment that enables the careful cultivation of crazy the likes of which makes our ‘nabes to the north (Long Island City) or the south (Williamsburg) wince. Or call the cops.
- Any attempt to buck the trend of endemic Greenpoint slack (READ: putting up a fancypants sign or building high-end housing) will eventually be despoiled by mishaps, graffiti or a pile of shit (human or otherwise).
I hope the previous explanation has been helpful.
That said, I overheard a particularly choice ‘review’ of our new Starbucks from a crew of pre-pubescent hoodie macs on the B61 bus yesterday afternoon.
Hoodie Mac #1: What the fuck is that shit!?!
Hoodie Mac #2: Starbucks NIGG-UH!
Out of the mouths of babes comes much wisdom. I am seriously considering making myself a tee shirt with “Starbuck’s NIGGA” emblazoned on it. Rendered in rhinestones, naturally. The way the world is going I’ll probably end up serving sugar-laden drinks to teeny boppers there for a whopping $8.00-$10.00 an hour.
Miss Heather
Photo Credit: Erin, the Poo Bag Bandita
No Hat Water
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Yesterday afternoon the Stupor informed me that we would not have any hot water that evening. Then he uttered some shit about the basement being flooded. At least I think that is what he said; his command of spoken English is about as proficient as his writing skills (or his ability to ‘manage’ this building). Shitty.
It is 9:33 a.m. Monday, April 16th. My hair is filthy (it is standing up by itself), my mother is staying here and we still have no hot water.
Good times.
Miss Heather
My neighbor is hilarious
Today I was showing my mother a few blogs I like to read, including one written by my upstairs neighbor HQ. This man has the cutest fucking dog in all of Greenpoint (and perhaps in all the world): Magellan. I wanted my mother to see a photo of him.
Pretty damn cute, huh? Well, apparently under this cute exterior lies the mind of a mischievious little shit.
The above photo is a little taste of the goodness featured in this post. Do read it. It is very, very funny.
Miss Heather
Photo Credit: HQ
106 Green Street Speaks
When I got home last night I found a very interesting message in my flickr mail:
i live down the street from you at 106 green street! i found your blog when a friend of a friend was asking where i lived- i said green street, and then they asked me if i wrote a blog about dog shit… naturally, my curiosity was piqued, so i checked out your blog later that evening. it’s fantastic! anyway, it has been strangely helpful to read someone else rant about the condo development happening at 110. my bedroom is RIGHT FUCKING NEXT TO IT, and as you can imagine, life at home has been utter hell over the past few months. remember that day in february when all the firetrucks and police stopped by? that was because a 2’x2′ hole was poked through the wall of my upstairs neighbors’ apartment (Emphasis mine— Ed. Note). sweet jesus! anyway, just thought i would say hello!
-(name removed)
Sweet Jesus indeed!
For the record, I do remember that day in February. It sucked.
Miss Heather
Doppeldung
I have been crazy busy of late. Not only do I have my Forgotten-NY post to draft, dog shit to document, kitty cats to capture and the endemic insanity that permeates my existence to moderate, but I have also had to do all the previous while entertaining a series of family members who have decided to pay our fine city, the one and only New York Shitty, a visit. Mayor Bloomberg should give me a kickback for all the tourism revenue I have generated. Seriously.
It has long been my desire to erect a shitcam so I can document the gradual deterioration of an errant piece of dog poo. Perhaps this will come to pass someday but in the meantime I have tracked the progress one pile of shit— and its ‘staying power’ is somewhat disquieting.
Exhibit A
69 Second Avenue, Manhattan
March 25, 2007
3:30 p.m.
My sister-in-law was in town from March 22, 2007 to March 26, 2007. When I found the above offering just south of St. Mark’s Place I had to point it out to her. She thought it was as funny as I was. We both bothered my husband to pick up those two pennies up for us. He refused. So I took a picture of them instead. A couple passersby thought this (a 30-something year old broad shooting a photo of a pile of crap while shouting, “Hey Sam, do you want a penny!?!“) was one of the funniest things they had ever seen. Go figure.
Now jump to…
Exhibit B
69 Second Avenue, Manhattan
April 13, 2007
5:30 p.m.
My mother, husband, cousin and I walked by the same spot…
and the poop and (one of) the pennies was still there!
Through rain, sleet or snow, New York Shitty delivers!
To summarize, this discovery has:
- given the phrase “tough shit” a whole new meaning. After almost 3 weeks of exposure to the elements it is still there. Perhaps our government should conduct research on this substance? The way I see it, after we manage to blow each other into oblivion (and apes evolve from man), the charred remains of the Statue of Liberty will not be our civilization’s legacy; it will be an petrified pile of dog shit. I can only hope that when the archeologists find this they interpret it as some kind of burial ritual. After the body is laid to rest, a pile of dog shit and two pennies are left to facilitate his (or her) soul’s journey into the bowels of the underworld. Sort of like Anna Nicole Smith.
- provided prima facie evidence that under the right conditions currency can be rendered so repulsive (READ: encrustated with SHIT) that not even a junkie or derelict will pick it up.
Miss Heather
This is not cool
Filed under: Area 51
I saw this flyer today at the Triangolo Pizzeria as I was headed to Manhattan to meet up with my mother and cousin. This is the kind of thing that makes a person think. Not only was this woman killed at a point in her life when she would otherwise have a long and bright future ahead, but it made me feel really sad to think about the pain her parents (and loved ones) are undoubtedly going through right now. I was alive to see my mother today, she wasn’t: because someone was clearly too drunk or too worried about going to jail to face the consequences of his (or her) actions.
This is not cool. I for one hope this person gets caught. Sure, it won’t bring Ms. Henk back, but at least it will give some kind of closure to the people who loved her enough to trek all the way up to Greenpoint to put up this poster.
Miss Heather
NYS Flickr Pool
