Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
New York Shitty Street Art Du Jour: Nick Walker
Filed under: 11237, 11385, Bushwick, Bushwick Brooklyn, Ridgewood, Ridgewood Queens, Street Art
Taken September 20, 2012.
The Word On The Street: Ridgewood Empire
Filed under: 11222, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Ridgewood, Ridgewood Queens
From Guernsey Street.
LAST GASP: #TheSocialGraph
Naturally after I try to call it an “early night” a choice morsel finds its way into my inbox. This one comes courtesy of my friend Luna Park who, it should be mentioned in the interest of full disclosure, is one of the “headliners”! You can get the full rundown here.
#TheSocialGraph
Opening Reception: November 12, 2010 starting at 6:00 p.m.
Closing Reception: November 27, 2010 5:00 – 9:00 p.m.
OUTPOST
1665 Norman Street
Ridgewood, Queens 11385
Miss Heather
From The New York Shitty Inbox: Scheissegeist
Filed under: 11222, Bum Shit, Criminal Activity, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Other Shit
As I have operated this web site over the years I have noticed a great many trends. A collective Internet consciousness, if you will. For example, I have noticed that summer seems to be the season of choice for churlish commenters. As for bat-shit craziness/troll-like activity, one need only peruse emails which are sent after midnight. The wee hours of the night are when the online troglodytes come out to play. Today’s theme— if my inbox is any indication— is this.
Yup.
Queens Crap (who sent me this delightful item) writes (in an email entitled “An early Christmas present for you”):
Happy Holidays!
After I managed, albeit barely, to keep my lunch in my down I asked where this came from. The fine people of Queens will be pleased as punch to know this VERY failed pair of training pants hails from the intersection of Greene and Grandview Avenue in Ridgewood. But merde is not exclusively an affliction of my friends across the creek. It is a five borough affair— and as I learned today no one does it better than Garden Spot of the Universe. Which brings me to another email I received today:
Xris (of Flatbush Gardener) writes (in an email entitled “Great Greenpointers in Current Events”):
Thought you might enjoy this Greenpoint item from the Brooklyn Eagle: Elderly Pickpocket Has No Fingerprints.
What does sporting a set of sticky fingers have to do with a pair of shit-smeared underwear, you ask? Click the above link and find out. I dare you.
Miss Heather
A New York Shitty Love Connection
Filed under: 11211, 11222, Bum Shit, Dog Shit, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Other Shit, Queens, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
Some of you might have gathered from the preponderance of non-Greenpoint content of late that I have been lurking our fair city. This is because my inlaws are in town and they want to see the sights, sounds, and yes, SMELLS of the Big Apple during their brief stay.* Fortunately I have my good friend Rowan and Crappy to keep me in an “outer borough” state of mind.
It all started with a corn stalk (which can be seen at left). My inlaws happen to reside in Iowa. Corn is very common there. Corn is not, however, very common in Greenpoint (which is where this stalk was found). More specifically it was found on Bushwick Inlet between North 14 Street and North 15 Street: an ill-kept, trash ridden sidewalk which sits atop brownfield.
I found this fascinating. Enough so to write a post about it. A week later I walked by only to discover that someone had killed the corn— and the cobs were nowhere to be found.
Rowan (who provided the above photograph) wrote on September 28, 2009:
Saturday evening, around 6:30pm, I decided to check the corn plant. It’s broken in two. Photos to come, but I’m a bit sad that someone destroyed it. Also the Marlboro packet was still there.
To wit I replied:
I noticed that today. Even more frightening is the corn appears to have been taken. Presumably someone ate it. YIKES!
This morning I had the pleasure of moderating Rowan’s rebuttal:
Someone’s going to have very toxic corn poops.
Shortly thereafter I received an ominous email from Queens Crap. It read as follows:
Do you, in your vast annals of dog shit photos, happen to have one that’s laden with corn? If not, you will when I get home from work tonight.
I replied that I did not have such a find in my “vast annals”. Follows is Crappy’s reply:
You won’t be disappointed.
I wasn’t.
This delightful artifact was found at the intersection of DeKalb and Cypress Avenue in Ridgewood. It is proof positive that my buddy across the creek knows blue chip crap when he finds it.
Yummy.
Miss Heather
*And they most, assuredly have. They walked by the Newtown Creek Waste Treatment Plant on Thursday afternoon and partook of a particularly fragrant subway ride today.
Ridgewood Photo Du Jour: Optimo
Filed under: Queens
From Myrtle Avenue.
Miss Heather
From The New York Shitty Inbox: On The Fence
Last week I was interviewed by a reporter. One of the topics we discussed was this web site, why I started it, why I keep doing it and so forth. Something I mentioned during the course of our conversation was how my readership had an uncanny way of perking me up when I am feeling blue. Rarely has a truly shitty day gone by that I haven’t find some choice item in my inbox awaiting my delectation. Yesterday was no exception.
Saturday, May 16, 2009 was a very lively day at Chez Shitty. The day’s events included:
A. Our oldest cat pissing on my leg. In bed. Thus saturating our bedding with pee.
B. Bearing witness to one of the most racist and foul-mouthed old Polish ladies to ever darken the doorstep of the junk shop. If this shrew is reading this (e.g.; taking a break from sucking the breath out of babies) calling the President of our Country the N word is frowned upon in some social circles. Even if and/or especially when it comes from some daft old bat who looks like a cross between Bette Davis in Whatever Happened To Baby Jane? and Don King.
C. Coming home from work to find our bathroom ceiling ripped open again and to learn:
- We have no water whatsoever— zero—zippo—none.
- We have living rats in our bathroom ceiling. And per the plumber one of them is a nasty bugger. He said and I quote:
If that rat bites me and I’m gonna him back.
They grow ’em tough in the Bronx. But I digress.
Somewhere between saying “hi” to my rodent roommates (and then commencing to demand rent from them— LOUDLY— much to the plumber’s amusement) and being urinated upon I checked my email. One was from my good friend Crappy in Queens. The message was entitled “On The Fence” and it read as follows:
This was taken outside Grover Cleveland High School.
Attached were two jpgs. Here they are.
Sure, this feminine hygiene product isn’t used. But remember what your mom always told you when you got some crappy ass present like socks or footie pajamas*:
It’s the thought that counts.
Miss Heather
*Which I once received from my grandmother for Christmas. They had Strawberry Shortcake on them. I was 18 years old.
NYS Flickr Pool
You must be logged in to post a comment.