In My Garage (I don't feel safe)

A few months ago, Galen and I rose to extreme levels of luxury when we got a parking space in our Greenpoint apartment building. The spot has helped us avoid getting the car encased by the terrors of the Snowpocalype, and today's Snowpocalypse Jr.

I'm not trying to be a snob or nothin', but the garage could be a bit more aesthetically pleasing. Let's just say that our landlord appears to have picked up some decorating tips from either a zombie or a Grabage Pail Kid. Shall we take a virtual tour?

This is the entry way. You'll notice that instead of a welcome mat, there's a broken down van and charming pile of rubbish.


Then to your left, there's a pile of old refrigerators labeled "keep" with sharpie and masking tape. They have a certain "old-world charm" about them, don't they? Maybe I'll be lucky enough to receive one someday. Thank God they'll be waiting safely in the garage until then.



I believe this is a piece by Marcel Duchamp.


And the finishing touch, probably added for the purposes of Feng Shui, is this vehicle of doom. If Skeletor drove a golf cart, this would be it. I'm not certain what this automobile is used for, but I'm sure it's very important.

What I've Learned This Week

When blizzards happen in Greenpoint, no one plows the streets and buses get stuck. This looks like a job for Mr. Plow.Also? It snows inside my lobby.

Some cats like to wear costumes.

Conroy and Wilcox makes the coolest rings ever.

I've got a great idea for my Halloween costume next year. All I have to do is get red contacts and lose about 40 pounds.

Blizzards: Not just for Dairy Queen

Hey! Turns out sometimes there are blizzards in NYC. It was blizzarding when I left for work this morning and somehow the snowflakes didn't defeat me.



Even this evening when I was walking home and those jerks were pelting me in the face, even when bikes were being buried, I held my head up high. Greenpoint has been covered by a freezing white sheet, but I'm still hangin' in there.



Better luck next time, blizzard.

Greenpoint Shopping Love

Lately I've been really broke, and when I'm broke, I feel the urge to spend money I don't have. I've been trying REALLY hard not to spend (eating PB&J or rice for every meal) but sometimes I just can't help myself.

A few weeks ago when searching online for a spy camera with which to take secret subway photos, I came across this totally awesome "Secret Book Camera."

This thing looks so totally cool, and Fred Flare, the store that sells it, is in my very own neighborhood! (On Meserole @ Leonard St.) Today I just had to make the trip to see what other neat things they had in store. When I saw that everything in the store was majorly cute and relatively cheap, my head nearly blew off. I started sweating and getting dizzy, moving around the store and drooling on all the things I want there, like this winter jacket that is only $35 (!!)

and this amazing LED Motherboad Menorah

But I pretty much shit my pants when I saw this wall of little mini cameras:

These little guys, called Ikimono cameras, are the most fabulous thing ever. Here is why:
- they come in cute assorted colors
- there is a tiny animal on the top of each camera. you get your choice between a lady bug, a bee, a whale, a hedgehog, a dog or a squirrel. You can view them all here.
-they're SO tiny! The camera without the film in it is like 1/4 the size of my cellphone.

As you may have predicted, I couldn't resist. At $22, the thing was a steal. Here's me with my exciting new camera after I figured out how to put the film in it:It was hard to choose between the whale and the hedgehog, but I think I made the right pick. I can't wait to test it out and get the film developed. Because of my little Ikimono, you can look forward to some new subway fashion shots soon.

Basically, Fred Flare is awesome and as soon as I get paid, I'm gonna buy out the whole store. If you don't live in Greenpoint and can't make it to the store, fear not! You can shop at the online store.

As I'm typing this, MTV's True Life: I'm Addicted To Shopping is playing. I find my story of shopping weakness to be strikingly similar to the plight of these girls... perhaps I should check myself into therapy.

Renegade Craft Fair!

This weekend is the Renegade Craft Fair at McCarren Park Pool. I am so excited and am preparing to blow my entire paycheck on awesome crafts. If you don't know about this craft fair, you should.
It is only the most fantastic thing ever to exist. The empty pool fills up with hundreds of booths featuring DIY crafts. The coolest handmade clothes, jewlery, art and homeware can be found at this place. On Saturday I'm going with Lina, and I will probably go again on Sunday because one day just isn't enough. Some of my favorite Etsy craftsters will be there including
Ruffeo hearts lil' Snoty:

Berkley Illustration:

and Imogene and Annie:


Yay!

Faces

Today I went for a walk in my neighborhood and found a bunch of faces. Here are some of my favorites:

This Morning's Subway Fashion

People on the G train this morning were being very protective of their hands and feet. I think we can all learn some important fashion tips from these stylish Greenpoint commuters.

Nothing is more fashion-forward than protecting your bright white shoes from the rain with plastic grocery bags!

Don't want to get those dirty magazine germs all over your gorgeous digits? Get your self a pair of classic latex gloves. So timeless, they never go out of fashion.

Kitten Digging Aftermath

It's been 24 hours and the workers have stopped digging for the kitten. Hopefully they found her. They did not, however, bother to clean up all the pavement chunks they dug out of the ground. They're just piled in bags on the side of the street. My guess is that they will be left there for the next several months.

The new "flare" on India St.:

There Will Be Kittens

Happy New Year everyone! To bring the year in with cheer, I will share with you a delightful story about my fun neighborhood in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. This morning when I was walking my dog on India St., I noticed that there were some screaming sounds coming from under the pavement. A bunch of workers from the nearby construction site were standing around baffled. Obviously the screaming was coming from a little kitten that they cemented in the road after installing all the new pipelines for the new apartment complex they're building. Poor little kitty, freezing in 30 degree weather, left to die. They started to draw lines on the street and then used their tools to drill into the ground in an attempt to rescue said kitty.

Diggin' for Kitten:

Whoops. Hopefully the poor dear gets rescued and finds a new home above-ground.

Porish

Some of you may be hip to the term "Engrish"-- the faulty yet cute Japanese attempt at English. Here's a fun example:

My buddy Aaron lives in Japan and wrote a pretty funny blog about his recent Engrish encounters.

Well today I got a little dose of Porish. Those of you familiar with Greenpoint probably know that all the landlords are Polish and relatively crazy. After several weeks of freezing cold apartment dwelling (it got down to 59 degrees in my place last week) my landlord finally decided it was time to turn on the heat. Don't get me wrong, that was great, but what was NOT great was the leak in the radiator that caused water to pour onto all of our electronics. Luckily, the landlord was kind enough to have the problem fixed while I was at work. He decided to let Galen know that the problem was solved by leaving this note:
We thought this note was pretty interesting, mostly because English is Robert's first language. His mother was Polish, but he was born and raised in New York, and grew up speaking English. Therefore, the above grammatical errors are slightly troubling, but still cute.

Ratatouille in Greenpoint

I was excited for my morning stroll today. Last night was this year's first snowfall in New York City. It was funny to see my dog react to what was undoubtably her first experience with snow. As we walked out the door, she looked up at me with a confused expression as if to say, "What the hell is all this white stuff?" We enjoyed our walk down India St. and I took some pictures on my shitty camera phone. Here is some official Greenpoint snow on a rose bush.










Our walk in the winter wonderland continued as I passed a dead rat frozen to the street:

A bunch of people were standing around the area having conversations, but nobody seemed to be too worried about the rat carcass.

This little guy could make the perfect side dish to the Three Piece Chicken Dinner
New York Shitty's Miss Heather found in Williamsburg. Grab your forks everybody!

Diplo & The Greenpoint Ass Goblin

On Friday night/Sat. morning, I went to see Diplo at Studio B. While I'm not huge into DJ's and dance music, Diplo is sort of on another level. If you have never heard him before, check this out his pitchfork mix to hear what I'm talking about. When I found out Diplo was playing in NYC I was really happy, but I was even happier when I realized the show was a few blocks away from my apartment! I never even realized there was a club in my very own Greenpoint before. Studio B is a cool place-- big enough for a good party but not so big that you feel lost. Anyway, I was a little nervous about Fri. night's "party" for a few reasons:

A. It was from 10PM-4AM
B. I had been drinking all afternoon (thanks open bar company lunch) and was hung over by 6PM
C. I'm 26 years old
D. I don't do drugs.

I have only been to one rave before and that was when I was 17. Now, almost 10 years later, I was very uncertain about how I would handle an all-night dance-athon. I mean sure, in LA I went dancing at clubs plenty of times but they all closed at 2AM. I decided I had to give it a shot anyway, and after several more beers, I headed out for Studio B with my friend Craig.

When we got in, we were greeted by a dude with a balloon for a head. Surkin was spinning and the party was already in full-effect. I downed a couple of redbull/vodka beverages and was ready to hit the dance floor.

Diplo came on and really tuned it up a notch. We danced our asses off for 2 straight hours. It was great because there were small snippets of Daft Punk and MIA, but the mix was pretty different from Diplo's pitchfork mix (linked above.) My brother saw this show in Seattle and complained that Diplo pretty much played the pitchfork mix exactly-- perhaps because he was burnt out in the middle of his tour. But this show was a lot different. Everyone seemed really into it and was dancing non stop. By the end of the second hour we were both dripping with sweat and feeling claustrophobic. The dance floor was getting more packed by the minute, and when Diplo asked that all the girls to get on the stage and dance, I knew this was my chance to run away. After catching a breather and getting our dance on on the outskirts of the dance floor, we started to feel a little fatigued. It was after 3AM, and at this point I had a double hangover-- oops! Even though Diplo was still playing and I felt a second wind coming on, Craig and I decided to be "responsible" adults and head out. When we got outside, the blast of 30 degree air was met with appreciation.

Craig jumped in a cab and I continued to walk home by myself down Manhattan Ave. It seemed a little unsafe but I felt ok about it because there was a hipster guy walking in front of me. Not that I expected the tight pants-wearing fellow to come to my rescue if I were attacked, but I expected that his presence alone would discourage any sort of foul play. After walking for a couple blocks, the guy pulled his pants down, squatted over and mooned me!!

"Certainly that must have been some sort of mistake," I thought to myself. I was convinced that the guy was just pulling up his pants that- despite their extreme tightness- were somehow falling down.

I turned down India St. and was just half a block away from home when I heard the sound of someone running up behind me. Low and behold, the hipster returned to run in front of me and dropped trow once again!! He pulled his pants back up and started to run away but I grabbed his arm.

"Hey! What the fuck! Why do you keep doing that!" I yelled.

The hipster shook himself free from my grip and whimpered a sad, "I don't know" before running away. While I was mostly disgusted, I was also sort of depressed by this guy. Maybe he is just addicted to pulling down his pants. Like- it's to a point where he just can't help it anymore. I have hereby deemed him the Greenpoint Ass Goblin. If anyone has more information on his whereabouts, please let me know.

Welcome back Turkey Breath

Oh Hello. I hope you all had a lovely T-giving and that you stuffed yourselves full of Turkey carcasses. I know I did. I am back from my Thanksgiving blogging hiatus. And I'd like to take this opportunity now that Thanksgiving weekend is over to tell you what I'm NOT thankful for.

Even though it's now 45 degrees outside, my landlord doesn't feel the need to turn on the heat, nor does he find it necessary to provide hot water. Taking a shower this morning in my freezing-cold bathroom, being pelted by cold water was a less than desirable experience. It was also pretty unpleasant 2 nights ago when by boyfriend and I woke up at 5AM because it was freezing. In the apartment. I mean- have you ever woken up from being freezing cold? I hope unless you are a homeless person that the answer is no. But unfortunately, I think this situation is a little too common in Greenpoint, Brooklyn where I live. Landlords all over the neighborhood seem to have united in a plan to keep their residents shivering at night. Most people in the hood who I talk to say that their heat is not on regularly, but instead is switched on and off when the landlord feels like it. On the particular night in question, my boyfriend went to the kitchen to look at the digital thermometer. Yes- we have a thermometer to tell us the temperature of the inside and outside. Yes, we are dorks. Anyway, upon looking at the reading, my boyfriend yelled, "62 degrees (inside) ! You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

I guess it was at that point that the landlord, who lives upstairs and hears everything we say, decided to turn the heat on. But not ON on, just on for like 3 hours. And then off again.

So while I am thankful for many things, you can be certain that I'm not thankful for the stingy Polish Greenpoint landlords, who think that saving a few cents is more important than human decency.

I mean, I know Poland is cold. I get it. I watched part one of the Decalogue last night. But it doesn't have to be freezing inside. Give me a fucking break.

The G Train Strikes Again

Last night on our way home from Manhattan, my boyfriend and I found ourselves stuck in the Metropolitan G train stop. As we waited patiently among a crowd of at least 200 people on the platform, I began to question the insanity of our situation. We waited on the platform for 40 minutes! From 11:10PM to 11:50PM there was no train in sight. Some people started to get antsy. One guy made himself a hero by going upstairs to yell at an MTA Employee.

"What the FUCK is going on with the train!" he shouted. "I've been waiting on the goddamn platform for 45 fucking minutes!"

We would have applauded had we not been so tired and worn down by disgust . Finally, the MTA guy made an announcement.

"No more G trains tonight," he informed. "Take the shuttle bus."

It would have been nice for him to let the crowd know a half hour earlier, but I guess he couldn't be bothered. Hundreds of angry people filtered out of the subway station, cursing all the way to the bus stop, where there was no shuttle waiting. After about 10 more minutes of waiting, we decided it was time to stop the insanity and call a cab.

MTA, you owe me $9.

When is this shit going to stop?

Mystery Graffiti in Greenpoint

<-- I snapped a picture of this monstrosity on my walk to the subway this morning. About two weeks ago, some little asshole decided it would be fun to spraypaint this wall on my block on India St. next to my bodega. I keep wondering if he's going to add onto it later, because it seems half finished. I've been having trouble analysing it... perhaps because it's too complex for me. Kind of like Mullholand Drive, but in an ugly, uninteresting way. I have come to accept now that this is it- this is the finished work. So I have done my best to try to assess it:

From what I gather, this is some sort of deformed monster with a megaphone and UFO's or some other questionable object for hair. Behind him is fire, with a burning eye inside of it. What does it all mean!?

Upon closer inspection of the "artwork" I came accross this --->

It's a myspace handle for the tagger. Of course, the proper myspace handle is: www.myspace.com/bader_art

But maybe the elusiveness of the wrong web address is all part of his genius. There weren't many clues on Bader's myspace page into his tortured soul. All I could glean was that he's a Gemini, he spells graffiti wrong, and he's single... hellooooo ladies! I also found his personal myspace page, where he lists his phone number in case you want him to come over and spray paint your wall.

G train gets an F?

Last week when I was entering the Christopher St. 1 station, I was greeted with a sign that made me smile. "Rider Reports- Grade the G Train" urged the sign. I have been waiting the past two years to do exactly that- and here was my golden opportunity. Howard H. Roberts has been so very kind to provide subway riders with report cards so we can grade the trains. Each train has a special time period when it is graded by riders on things such as "Reasonable wait times for trains" and "Adequate room on board at rush hour." Mr. Roberts declares that he will use the results of these reports to improve each of the subway lines. This particular time period is for our sad old friend, the G train.

Anyone who has been on the G train knows that it's pretty much the biggest piece of shit subway in the universe. The level of shittiness of other trains in NYC does not even begin to compare to that of our disgusting aluminum crust factory crested with a putrid green seal. Let's just say if the 6 train is a twix bar, the L train is a pack of raisonettes and the G train is a stale old pretzel you found in the back corner of your pantry.

When looking at the results from some of the other trains surveys, I found that the average NYC Subway line grade is a C-. Which is to say, less than satisfactory. I can only imagine what the results will be for the G train. I would like nothing more than to see the look on Howard H. Roberts' face when he complies all the data. I mean, I know he's not actually going to fix anything, but just the look on his face... knowing that there would be that look of disgust and embarrassment- is enough for me. So if you ride the G, please join me in filling out this glorious report. It's pretty fun actually... like in college at the end of the semester when you got to grade your asshole professors. Grade on riders!

Trashy New York Marathon

I have to be honest- I'm getting really sick of getting 20 emails a day at my office asking me to participate in GREEN events. It seems like everyone is interested in making you turn off your computer, recycle, and go to weird beaches to clean up trash. Look- I'm as into the environment as the next guy. I try to recycle, I use public transportation, and I throw my trash in the garbage can rather than on the ground.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO AN IMPORTANT POINT!

What the fuck is with the trash heap that was left on McGuinness Blvd. in Greenpoint, Brooklyn (my home) after yesterday's New York City Marathon? Everyone is so obsessed with this event- a mother won! Katie Holmes actually ran in it! (without a bra apparently)
But I will tell you what no one seems to care about... the fact that there are literally THOUSANDS of Gatorade cups littering the streets of Greenpoint that were part of the marathon's route yesterday afternoon.

The asshole runners got their fluids and then tossed their garbage all over my neighborhood. Does anyone take notice? Only the poor assholes that have to live in the rubbish of the physically fit. Does anyone give a shit about making Greenpoint green after fancy Manhattan-ites destroyed it? Don't even bother answering that question.

More pictures of this ridiculous litter castle to come...