[Oh, look! Jessica Simpson (before she got fat), rockin the sweats!]
As a former Park Slope inhabitant for two years, and then a "Park Slope" (Prospect Heights) inhabitant for another two years, I now find myself living in Tribeca.
Okay, don't hate me just yet.
The truth? My rent and entire living situation is cheaper than it was in the Brooklyn digs, because of strange but fortunate circumstances. Legal and NOT shady ones at that. Okay, you probably hate me. The short of it is that I live in the combination living and work space of...wait for it...the family I used to nanny for...in...wait for it again...Park Slope! Except that they don't really live here. It's a long story.
I love it when I get new takeout menus in the mail—the creepy, cryptic return addresses written in scary handwriting. I think, this is it—the mob has finally tracked me down and is sending me this letter to let me know that they’re going to kill me for my indiscretions (read: my big, fat mouth). My adrenaline kicks in as I rip open the envelope to see yet another take-out menu. Ah, safe for another day.
The latest sucka to join our FIPS fold = Alicia.
In her v. own words: I'm a "writer" and maker of whimsical crochet creatures...and a pool-hustler when I have to be. I have a kick-ass vintage apron collection and a knack for fixing VCRs. I've read 86 out of the 100 Best Novels of the 20th Century according to the Modern Library and I love sports bars.
(ed note: WAIT, people still have VCR's??).
Anyway, be nice to her...at least for the first day.
I know there will be some of you that complain over the MTA's decision on this, (breeders with strollers as usual) but I couldn't possibly support it more.