It was a nail biter but I know my neighbors will be relieved to hear that the hot pink electric guitar and amp have arrived in time!
I'm feeling distinctly Grinch-like at the moment but am hoping that looking at my butt-naked wii boxer of last Christmas will put me in a more festive mood. The bigger is singing me the Chanukah Song, which he's memorized in honor of the season.
As it turns out, I'm not the only cranky BREEDER. While you kid-frees are still ruminating over at the Clay Pot and Loom, we're in crisis.
My old friend Nicole, "It may be Christmas time, but one more 3 a.m. wake-up and it's gonna seem like Halloween around here..."
My friend K is even worse. Her status update yesterday was succinct and to the point: "Fucking hate Christmas."
My other friend K is even worse off than K-1. She's running a 102 fever and had to cancel Christmas Eve.
So, according to the USPS, the continuing inclement economic tidings have possibly cured today's generation of little people of their natural acquisitiveness if letters to Santa are any indication. What their "chief elf" told NPR:
"This year, the letters are single moms, three kids, no winter coats, no shoes, blankets, can't pay the bills, not enough food in the pantry. So the need has changed tremendously."
What do you think? Have you been successful in keeping it simple this year?
Show us your letters to Santa. Gimmes not yet cured over at my place but littlest tyrant did apologize politely for the obscene number of requests.
While the Al Di La garbage debate rages on in (almost) S. Slope, FIPS reader Linda has been facing another challenge right here in N. Slope: recurring vomit (or something!) on 6th Ave and St. Marks.
"On our way to the 2/3 train early each morning, my husband and I pass the newish and cutest little Cuban restaurant on the corner of 6th Avenue and St Marks Place. Sadly for them and unfortunately for us, we have frequently maneuvered past a nasty, gelatinous, sludge-ridden puddle of what appears to be vomit on that very corner 2 to 3 times per month. We've noticed this since moving to Park Slope in August (but who's counting?).
At first, we were quite disgusted and prudish about the whole thing and slammed our ghettolicious neighborhood and it's mayhap bender-prone inhabitants (often). Then we began to take bets on whether we'd find our sludge on just Mondays only (no). Then we noticed different stain spots spreading across a 3 foot diameter (poor aim, but good for a drunk) It could never be the poor restaurant's doing. They're trying to attract customers! Then (lightbulb!) we thought it might just be some asswipe who lives in the walk-up above the restaurant throwing his or her nasty-ass leftovers out the window rather than dealing with garbage. What. The. Fuck?? Have we have no fucking life?!! Is this what happens to educated people who move to Park Slope? We OVER-FUCKING-THINK EVERYTHING! Good God. And then we write about it! It's VOMIT. Step over it and move on. (Pssst....ssshhh...someone..anyone...have you noticed this? What could it be? Please. Before I vomit)."
My guess: BEBE VOMIT! Or maybe a bullemic apartment dweller.
This year, Park Slope has kinda felt like a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, tucked into a a bizarro taco.
Between the ghost stroller, the missing unicorn, the potential glory hole at the Tea Lounge, the hand drawn penis at the tot lot, the strange smell of cinammon toast...and like a billion other things that I could go on about except that I don't want to confuse you ppl even more, we NOW have the inexplicable "You Would" graffiti to puzzle through!
As NY Mag & The Brooklyn Paper rightly pointed out already: THIS SHIT IS B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
"With no name or artistic flourishes, the slogan doesn’t fall under the category of traditional graffiti — except that it’s everywhere: in the F train at Seventh Avenue, on a construction fence on Eighth Avenue and 14th Street, on a traffic control box on Seventh Avenue and 12th street, and painted on a rock on 14th street near Seventh Avenue.
It’s not the most eye-catching thing, but there is something about the phrase — “You would” — that has Brooklynites scratching their heads."
Personally, I'm so confused by this graffiti I couldn't even hazard a guess as to what it might mean!? BUT, if someone was holding a gun to my head and said: "you must make a guess as to what this graffiti means or innocent Basset Hound puppies will be murdered and then you will be forced to drink their blood," I would probably guess that the "You Would" means:
- You would bring your baby to a bar
But again, ppl that's JUST a guess.
ATTN BREEDERS: if you've got a little boy and he doesn't have long hair and kinda look like a girl, he's probs getting made fun of at school and considered totally not cool. The NYT just thought you should know:
"In certain New York City neighborhoods (Park Slope, TriBeCa, Williamsburg, to name a few), you may have noticed a surge of little boys with long hair, contemporary Little Lord Fauntleroys or mini Mick Jaggers or tiny surfer/skater dudes, depending on the cultural reference of the adult observing them. (Two mothers interviewed for this article independently cited a Florence-Henderson-as-Carol-Brady shag when searching for a way to describe a particular cut sported by little boys they know)."
Here are the names of the little boys cited as examples in the article:
Anyone wanna come over and do some puke shooters with me??
So basically, if your kid has a(n) stupid unusual name, seems like you should just let him embrace his own fate and let his hair grow out to at least ponytail length...it's only right.