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Wednesday
Mar312010

Not Eating Out in Park Slope

The blessing and curse of Park Slope is that we can't walk two feet without running into a restaurant of some sort.  The blessing, obviously, is that we don't have to cook—like, ever.  The curse, of course, is that eating out all of the time is e-x-p-e-n-s-i-v-e.  Just look at the FIPS Throwdowns if you want proof—$17 for some noodles and breaded chicken? COME ON, SZECHUAN DELIGHT, SOME OF US HAVE FAMILIES TO SUPPORT.  And since we spend all of our money on rent, it's difficult to justify shelling out $20 for a single meal, especially since $20 can buy a week's worth of groceries.  

Cue The Art of Eating In, the blog-turned-book of Brooklyn's own Cathy Erway.  The book details Erway's two-year jaunt not eating out (the experiment was also documented in her blog, Not Eating Out in New York).  

Click to read more ...

Wednesday
Mar312010

Open Post [GO CRAZY, Y'ALL]

If you think this open thread bullshit has ANYTHING to do with the fact that I have nothing else to post today...you know, cause I got home late last night from seder number two, spent the past 48 hours plane-ing, train-ing and automobile-ing my ass all the fuck all over the LIRR and the NJ Transit so that I could go eat matzoh and in a "leaning position," have piles of laundry that need landering, a dog that needs his ass taken to the park and a floor that needs vacuuming, well then yeah: YOU ARE TOTALLY WRONG. I don't use open threads as a crutch like that!

Sheesh.

So, WTF is on your minds? Tell us e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g...

Wednesday
Mar312010

FIPS CARES: Pull Up Your Pants, Dumbass!  

My Homie!!!!  My Homey??!!!! 

Whatever…you are my personal hero, State Senator Eric Adams of Brooklyn.

Senator Adams, we at FIPS applaud your noble, maybe even tireless campaign to STOP THE SAG with your purchase of six billboards to combat this ridonculously enduring fashion trend. 

We join you in calling out to the youth and plumbers of Brooklyn to pull up your goddamned pants!

Click to read more ...

Wednesday
Mar312010

OPEN LETTER: STAY OFF MY SIDEWALKS

If you can find the fucking sidewalk, stay off it or else.

Dear Delivery Men of Park Slope,

First, let me start this off by saying I'm very grateful for you.  You do a job that I don't want to, and for a mere few extra bucks, indulge my sloth and gluttony right to my front doorstep.  I'd give you all one massive hug, but I'm usually too busy stuffing my face with Thai food that I make you deliver during the ninth blizzard in this month that's probably going on outside right now.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the deal.  Just because you are bringing some equally fat and lazy Slope resident delicious treats doesn't mean that you are allowed to ride your bike on the fucking sidewalk.  It does not mean you are allowed to put my health and life in danger.  And it definitely does not grant you the permission to keep going on a fucking straight trajectory while you expect me to dive into the bushes to avoid you, ostensibly testing my athletic ability to play human Frogger.

I'm sure you'll all tell me to get off my own ass and get my own food.  But that's beside the point.  And as long as I have this forum to bitch - and as long as you riding on the sidewalks is illegal, because I'm preeeety sure it is - I will continue to shout obscenities at you as you ride by.

Listen, I have sympathy - I was almost engaged to a man who delivered pizza throughout his teen years, so I not only understand how much your job blows, but also commiserate with your girlfriends who have to hear your whining about how undertipped you were.  But for fuck's sake, keep it off the sidewalks.

Compassion through bitching, 

Meredith

Tuesday
Mar302010

WHO GIVES A SHIT: WHAT'S YOUR LIVING SITCH?

A couple of recent Times pieces about housing in New York have me curious: what's your living situation?  Is anyone voluntarily destroying his/her sex life by living with parents on the cheap, or doing the (apparently illegal) apartment-as-sardine tin with a bunch of others?  Or are you all real live grown-ups with your own places?  (Related: Nothing charms a single New Yorker as much as a dishwasher and in-house laundry.)

Personally, I share my place with a couple of actors.  While I'm obviously jetting the hell out of there to my own space the second I can afford it, I have a decent apartment and I've never had it interfere with, um, personal matters.  And, even though I suppose I could, I don't live with my folks.  (Also related: This is probably the only reason they still love me.)

BALLERS, DINKS, BREEDERS with 2.3 perfect children, tell me in the comments!  And feel free to go stealth anon if you don't want that Coop chick you've been courting on OKCupid to know that your mama's still washing your skivvies.  You just haven't told her yet, I'm sure.