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Design Blahg: Can You Dig It?

Ok, so ta da! I started another blog!

It's right here and it's called Design Blahg. I'm trying to bring the FIPS snark and attitude to the world of Interior Design. Will it work? Who the fuck knows, but I'm tryin.

If you bitches felt like hopping on over there and throwing down a comment or two so it doesn't look like a ghost town, that would rock.

Of course, I still love you long time and FIPS isn't going anywhere (duh).

(Also, follow @designblahg on Twitter)


My Walk On The Wild Side: The Three Little Bears and Me

Not sure I've mentioned that I am pretty much a city girl. I love nature as long as it comes without the bugs and wildlife. No likey insects and snakes espesh. Not that I would call in Woody Allen to exterminate a bedbug in the bathroom, but you get where I'm coming from here.

So, the little one and I escaped our perpetual weekend abandonment (little league season) to head out to the wilds of Pennsylvania with friends over the weekend. Hammock? Check. Pretty trees? Check. Cedar smell? Check. Trampoline? Oh yeah! Check (even did a spreadeagle). Bears in the backyard??? CHECKKKKKKKK!

Click to read more ...


I Want My Craft Services

Okay, I can deal with the fact that we are picturesque and film crews like to take over our paltry number of parking spots for their perpetual location shoots. Yes, I can put up with Martin Scorsese or even, marginally, Bored to Death.

But Banana Republic?


Shouldn't the residents of Park Slope be getting SOMETHING in return for all this inconvenience? Like, oh I don' t know, MONEY for OUR neighborhood?

Or in the absence of monetary benefits, how about you feed our hungry. I say, let us walk brazenly up to your food tables and forage for whatever the fuck we want. 

It's the least you can do.


Ridin' the STF-Train

Click to enlarge, buds.

I don't have to tell you twice that I fucking love sitting on Missed Connections.  (Which, as I remain single becomes increasingly sadder, but we won't really deal with that right now, k?)  Trolling last night--for you guys, of course--I landed on this (unsanitary) shit:

"After a bumpy ride from Bed Bath and Beyond, I sat down in front of you. You got a little too close, but I figured it was because the train was getting crowded.  The crowd eased up a bit, and so did you.  You grabbed yourself once.  You grabbed yourself twice.  I figured you were sweaty.  You grabbed yourself a third, fourth, a fifth time. I figured you were REALLY sweaty.  You grabbed yourself a sixth and seventh time.  I thought you had a STD.  You grabbed yourself an eighth, ninth and finally tenth time - all between Smith and Ninth Street and Fourth Avenue.  I know you have an STD.  I know you are a creep. You got off at 7th Avenue, or maybe earlier."

I also know I don't have to tell you twice how much the F train causes me intense pain, though, apparently, not as much pain as this dude is going through.  I would like to add that ladies as a whole are not staring at your shit, but if you stick it in our faces, you leave us with no choice.

So, which one of you is the STD-infested creepy crotch grabber?  And, who of you have gotten an STD from him?  Not this chick, with her AP-style honed omission of the Oxford Comma, that's for sure.

Remember kids, use a condom. 


Coming-2-TheSlope: Restaurant Update

Fornino and Thistle Hill are almost here!  We are le stoked.  Here's some gossip from yer newest local gluttony points o' interest:

THISTLE HILL: Menu's posted on the door, and ladies and gents, food looks amazing.  I pass it nearly every day and have to concentrate on not wetting myself when I think about the ricotta gnocci.  Thinking about it right now, actually, but I'm wearing my good jeans.  Anyway, just in case you're curious what happens when you mix one yuppie neighborhood with one old punk dude, I have the answer: the Fat Mike Burger.  House-ground, grass-fed beef, potato roll and salt & pepper fries.  Snippet of the menu in the photo up top.

FORNINO: Grub Street says that the new Fornino locay on Fifth Ave is getting a little risky: Chef Ayoub is forgoing traditional brick oven pizza for grilled pies. The news is rocking the pizza world (which, incidentally, is like, me and a couple of other dudes who squat outside Di Fara, no biggie).  The best part?  Let out your pants, friends: they'll be in delivery-ready perfect circles and nothing will be more than $20.  Yes, please. Full menu here.

I'm pretty excited to erase all of the calorie-burning work I've done over the last three months in one fell swoop.  So, who's with me?