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R.I.P. Bob

William Levin, from lowercaseL sent along word that Bob Schindler, the panhandler who often sat on a milk crate in front of the Starbucks on 7th Ave had recently passed away. He got to know Bob over the years and became friends with him...he wrote a beautiful tribute on his site:

Fellow Park Slope residents might remember Robert Schindler, known to most as Bob, the bespectacled old coot and occasional panhandler ("Pardon me, can you spare some change?") who could often be found sitting on a milk crate in front of the Starbucks on 7th Ave, entertaining passersby with his Mae West impressions and musings on the human condition as he chain smoked Maverick Menthol Box 100's. He died in a hospital last week, 12/23/10 of congestive heart failure. He was 76 years old.

You can read more about Bob over on lowercaseL.


Who Gives A Shit: Do You Have A Washer/Dryer In Your Apt?

Here's what you should know: every night when I walk my furry dog's ass around the neighborhood, and you ppl leave your lights on and your windows uncovered, I'm looking into your apartments and I'm looking in HARD.

I notice who has a fireplace (jealz), and who has nice furniture (practically no one), and who has crazy paint jobs (most ppl), and I ESPECIALLY notice who has a washer/dryer (if I can see it, which I usually can't, but still...). Honestly, that's the perk that would mean the most to me. I'd rather have a washer/dryer than a pool.

The NYT was talking about this shit too: Manhattan Status Symbols: Washers and Dryers.

If you have a washer/dryer in your apt, I HATE YOU.

So do you?


The Pavilion Movie Theater Has Officially Been Nominated As the Nastiest & Most Disgusting Theater in Brooklyn...And Won

Honestly, who the hell cares if the Pavilion has bedbugs anymore. I'd be more concerned about picking up some flesh eating virus...or THE MOTHERFUCKING PLAGUE.

These fine photos were taken by Brooklynian member SlipperySlope in Theater 5, and I think we can all agree that they are hardcore vom inducing.

ATTN ALL MOVIE THEATER OWNERS EVERYWHERE: if you have ever, even for one hot minute, considered NOT getting black seats in your movie theater, please look at these photos immediately and then go punch yourself in the face.

Click to read more ...


The Year in FIPS: Don't Let the Annum Hit You On the Way Out...

[ed note: It's been a long, hot, wet, snowy, tornado filled year up in this piece, and we wanted to send you out in style. i.e. by linking to virtually every fucking thing we've ever posted in the hopes that you'd maybe click on it again and read all this crap a second time around. But rully, rully, rully, truly from the bottom of my cold, dead, crusty heart: thanks for reading all this shit, thanks for commenting on all this shit, thanks for loving us, hating us, loving to hate us and everything in between. You all rule...HARD].

This time last year, we made unreasonable resolutions, shared our best-kept secrets, made fun of Jennifer Connelly, fought fracking, and almost got our asses kicked by marauding Park Slope-hating teenagers (who made a special trip from soon-to-be best new hood: HARLEM!!!)

In January, we cut the cord (Ollie's at off-leash hours), railed against evil, poopy coop boards, broke the Novo dog run egging story, held ass-offs, made fun of weary commuters, and bad subway advertisements and breeders, wrote paeans to our pooch and the food coop, discussed world's worst drivers, wondered where the fuck our mail was, got scared of chainsaw-wielding cyclists and more.  

In February, Sarah Silverman liked us (well, Union Hall anyway), we told Fresh Direct trucks to STFU, told breeders to piss off, tried to find a nice jewish boy for a nice jewish girl, marveled at the hood's priciest fixer-upper, got robbed of credit for our dog mugging story, debated the meaning of fabulous and giant snow dick sculptures, had snow days, searched for Sugar, and met up while still staying sexless in the slope.

In March, we became an official toxic waste dump, Erica hated the shit out of Beastly Bites, Jonathan Safran Foer, garbage men, and breeders who drink (in bars with their bebes), we craved Girl Scout cookies, stepped in ONE dog shit too many, broke up with Park Slope Parents, missed Manhattan (doormen), and produced how-tos for surviving a trip to La Bagel Delight and Spring Break.

In April, we made fun of dudes whose pants are falling down and/or who are sporting ironic mustaches and/or who wear inconsiderate big-ass backpacks on the subway, supported gay rights and free love at off-leash hours, railed against intolerance and Time Warner, got deflowered and invited to join the Chamber of Commerce, won a Pulitzer for our grounds-breaking coverage of the Gorilla Coffee brewhaha and demanded a retraction from New York Mag for naming us the city's best nabe (SCIENTIFICALLY and with Gorilla on the cover). 

In May, we bitched about ubiquitous film production crews, people who eat fucking watermelon on the F train and the Pavilion; launched new blahgs, almost got eaten by bears at country houses, welcomed the Rock Shop, hated the F train some more, missed mom, lamented the death of the city bus and exorbitant rents, held a mani/pedi smackdown, and shared our expertise on the topic of reality TV.

In June, we had a winning team of our very own, cared about gays in the military, held virtual stoop sales, admired Ollie's ears some more while shilling for Spike Lee Absolut, embraced downward mobility, were scared to even squat in the Tea Lounge bathroom, got gassy about off-shore drilling, bought vuvuzuela apps, voted for Hope, gave a shit about mean C-town cashiers and nice Trader Joe's ones, and survived the 7th Avenue Heaven (or Hell) Street Fair.

In July, we discovered that the Meier building is the new Hamptons and uncovered cave dwellers on Carroll, Erica loved the shit out of the Gate for declaring itself a stroller-free zone, penned the insta-classic I Love My Life, I Hate Your Children, we aired dirty little secrets of the work at home crowd, cursed the MTA some more, ran the best raccoon invasion story in the history of the universe, did some more fear-mongering about bedbugs at the Pavilion and everywhere else, mourned the wholesale slaughter of Prospect Park geese and got flipped the bird by our beloved GoGo Gowanus.

In August, we found you roommates, went on vacation, demanded Apple Stores, covered local politics (fine, Hope Reichbach's makeover) and the coming of Zooey Deschanel, were scared of Rockaway sharks and bedbugs (again), held bad breeder contests, sang virtues of cupcakes (again), broke the news of Purity Diner's DOH'ing, the mysterious ghost stroller and the Rite Aid car crash, we bid tootaloo to Smartmom, and swapped notes on public restroomsdoggie daycare and Methodist's labor pains. Oh, and made fun of JSF (again). 

In September, we went back to school, stalked In Treatment, loved Gary Shteyngart and Neal Block, gave a shit about rogue balloon blowers, found parking spots on Labor Day, welcomed Hurricane Earl and the great Tornado of 2010, prepared for future disasters, survived school potlucks,  loved punks, impugned the Pavilion (again), voted, made fun of breeders (again), lamented bad drivers (again), couldn't believe how much money the Food Coop makes and that cops are issuing summonses for loitering on your own stoop, and then, of course, we declared war on Mama Rosa.

In October, we gossiped about Taylor and Jake, couldn't believe that Gorilla is suing former staffers AND the NY Times, or that people at the food coop hire hookers, or have yoga rooms, we loved Park Slope better than Manhattan, ranted about home-invading mosquitoes and homicidal chefs, broke the news that the Tea Lounge couches are all (probably?) smeared in baby crap, marveled at $18,000/month rentals, survived freakish hail storms, waved buh-bye to neighbors, said hello to the bike lane controversh, loved my white rapper brother Epick's new video, made fun of teachersprepared for Halloween, and raged some more about Mama Rosa.

Oh, and we got taken over by a porn site too.

In November, we made fun of whiny BALLERS (for once) and the Food Coop (what else is new), found your polling place for you, bitched about creepy subway flashers and stood up to them, got dissed by L Magazine and the Village Voice, got ranty about Landmarks, became Bored to Death plotlines, punched Pandas, hated Brooklynian, stalked Adrian Grenier and Jake/Taylor, got imugged, beat up a robber with a garbage can, shilled for FiOS (no, i did not, says she), were stressed out, had sex in Prospect Park, introduced wing woman, were mean to weary commuters, killed our mothers with samurai swords, and live blogged jury duty.

In December, we survived and/or celebrated various holidays, learned about glory holes, loved Thistle Hill Tavern hated Bruce Ratner, put the bike lane debate to bed, taught small children about their bodies and wondered why boys look like girls, were almost voted the best neighborhood blog by the Village Voice, dressed as giant bagels to protest World Aids Day, missed seeing Jim Carrey at the Mr. Popper's Penguins shoot, tried to get laid, made fun of the Food Coop and Amy Sohnvoted early and often but still didn't steal Curbed's Best Neighborhood of 2010 trophy, made it inside the Googles' new manse (yeah, i said it!), debated subway leaners, and played yenta at the Naughty Office Party. Oh yeah, and got snowed in.

See you in 2011!


OPEN POST: Happy New Year

Is it me, or has this year mostly sucked a dizzle? I don't know about you btchz, but I'm pretty over 2010. That big sparkly ball drop can't come soon enough as far as I'm concerned.

I'm ready to dive deep into this new decade head first--OH, and also: 11 is my lucky number!

So yeah, I'm ready to get this New Year's party s-t-a-r-t-e-d.

So what is everyone doing?

Any New Year's resolutions?

Any one still have an unplowed street? (KIDDING!) (NOT REALLY!)