I love the sound of sledgehammers in the morning

Every morning at exactly 7 a.m. comes a construction wall of sound that'd make Phil Spector's head spin like a hit platter. (Did that make any sense? Maybe I'd know if I got more sleep.) Bits of plaster snow down from my water-damaged ceiling, meaning the extra vibrations are speeding up the process of my building crumbling apart. The latest development (har de har) is that for the past month or two, my bed literally shakes from the construction.

Here is a panoramic tour of the activity from my kitchen window. This building is awesome for anyone who's been nostalgic for college lately. It's dorm time again!



This lil' guy has been slapped up where there used to be a single-story garage. The workers got tiny cement splatters on my beloved car, and therefore are my enemies, but that's just one of the perils of parking in Brooklyn, I guess.



Then there's this thing, complete with view of jail.



And then these piledrivers (is that what they're called?) which were making quite a ruckus this morning. Reilly says some sort of artist/low-income housing tower is going up there? Whomever ends up there will have prime jail view [left].



Not shown, since you can't see it from the window: mystery construction project in the lot directly to the right of my building.

But hey, you know what's going to totally rule? When that Ratner monstrosity comes in! Traffic, parking, litter, and noise level, all of which are already bad, are going to get exponentially worse! I'm not sticking around for that, but good luck to the suckers who bought real estate here...though I guess luck isn't a big factor if you can afford local real estate.

Ahh, but let's all breathe and look at something more pleasant to conclude. The only bit of view left that I enjoy, my favorite nearby tree, is especially nice at this time of year. Weird, though, how it matches that banner...

Specialty items for the littlest consumers

So I noticed a new direction for the local Clipper coupon magazine cover. Usually the flyer contains mostly promotions for kitchen redecoration and some restaurants down on the waterfront.



This part of the cover was of extra interest.



Because you know who really appreciates the blond wood and vaguely Scandinavian design of high-end baby furniture?



Babies.
That hand-me-down dresser and passed-along crib will simply not do for BoCoCa's demanding baby, although it may have done so in all previous generations ever. It really is best to start ’em in on materialism before they can even form thoughts.

when you play with fire...expect to be burned

I have finally moved on from what became a nightmarish living situation. I am trying to forget, but some images just stay burned on the retinas for a while. And I don't have my deposit check in hand yet, but I am planning on crashing the open house next Sunday, and causing a scene if I dont have it by then.
Wait, what have I learned about playing with fire?

A couple of weeks ago, I thought I would be really clever and leave some pieces of cat poop on the ledge I know was being painted the next day (IN my apartment BEFORE I moved out). A little irritation in return for my own, you know, but nothing that could be traced to me. And I giggled all day to myself, and I giggled when I got home and saw the ledge painted, and then I went up to my room, and I stopped giggling.
There was a huge pile of dog poop in the middle of my bedroom floor.
Bigger than my own.
BTW This dog is groos, dumb, weighs about 80lbs, and looks like it has scabies.

I cleaned it up, and then went downstairs to see Mr Landlord. He laughed, and told me it was impossible it was his dog. I then had to have the conversation I never thought I would ever have to have, explaining various animal sizes and the comparison to the waste they produce. I told him it could not have been my cat, I knew it wasn't me, I really doubted it was my roommate, so if he was really saying that it wasn't his dog, then was it him?

He joked that if his dog was in my room, it was probably only because he was trying to eat my cat! GRRRR!
I mumbled something about only two weeks left, can we just make this as easy as it can be and respect each other's space, and started back up to my apartment defeated.
He yelled after me that I should pick up the toxic caulk mixture he left on the living room floor in case my cat accidentally drank it and died.
The one silver lining in the conversation was that he didn't call me Moonchild for probably the first time in six months.

Stooperbowl Sunday

Stoop sale totals are in:
ECS: $90
Colleen: $60
Reilly: $30
Hannah: $10
After food and beer.

Not too great if you are counting by the hour, but fun to sneak in a little stooping.

The landlord did stop by and hang out for an awkward twenty minutes, taking me aside briefly to ask me if I have been putting "inappropriate" things down the toilet. I said no, but what would be inappropriate, since I do sometimes put dental floss in there, but he said that was fine. I assured him that my BMs were pretty consistent throughout the year, and that I couldn't vouch for the roomie, but I hadn't heard anything different from her. Curious? Wipes, apparently, are the big danger to the plumbing system.

We then moved on to how we set off the alarm system all the time. I explained politely that we have never once used the alarm system (that they got to protect us against their now deceased, but then violent and alcoholic friend, who tried to break into the house) because they never gave us the code.
Their response was simply to assume that if it wasn't me, it must be one of my friends playing a joke. Don't know about you, but all my friends thing the funniest thing is setting off people's alarms.
Hahaha...remember that time I set off your alarm?

Enough with the ranting. I know.

But then I saw this???

So back to the sale. Very fun way to spend an afternoon. We had tons of stuff. And we sold a good amount.



Here's two very Brooklyn looking ladies.


I though all would be overlooked in the stoop sale, but there was no forgiveness for my sleeping bag skirt. I didn't even get a "I could maybe see in the winter" or "It could have looked good in the store" Nothing. Even my explanation of having gotten it myself at the Salvation Army didn't help. Even modelling it didn't help.
It didn't even get taken overnight in the free pile.


Colleen looking cute with the sleeping bag skirt over her right shoulder.


Hmm...then this happened.


Yep.


Nobody actually bought any of the vibrators (all unused), but after we decided everything was free, and were kind of too drunk to be paying any attention, a little old lady asked me if I had a black plastic bag. After she left, I noticed that the box was empty. Damn lady, that's like eight vibrators.

And we had a celebrity soop by: Emily Mortimer shopped our sale. But she didn't buy anything becasue our stuff's not fancy enough for her. Nice and bitter.

Come stoop with us: Situation Critical

The sad news is this will be our last opportunity to hang out on this stoop. My landlord has decided to renovate the building, and then sell it, so he gave us the choice to raise our rent 50% or move out.
His fabulous renovations included painting the stoop, so of course his "slovenly" (oh that's me by the way) tenant was asked not to hang out on the stoop after that. So we are not hanging out on the stoop, we are having a stoop sale.
The last few weeks have been ugly ones, and after I get my deposit back, I will fill you in more, but for now, check out the landlord's fabulous band website...the band I have been "completely unsupportive of" and indeed "completely unsupportive of his entire lifestyle". Thus his failure is directly my fault. We are a "forced family" after all.

Band

Come by and hang out.

Sunday Sunday Sundayyyyy!

scar(r)ed from the stoop

If some of you have been wondering why there hasn't been much stoop action lately, its not just the rain. Let me share a little something...



This guy, Mark, has been hanging out downstairs on the stoop.

And I got a little talking to from the landlord who lives downstairs about how I am so "slovenly" for leaving a cigarette butt on the stoop.

On Saturday, as I am leaving to go camping with Colleen, I discovered my landlord and Mark are painting the stoop without warning so I had to jump over a couple of steps carrying all my stuff. Instead of helping me, Mark commented that I could hop on his back, (the hairy sweaty back oozing out from that same green tank top) unless I was too worried about what people think. I quickly told him the best help he could be was to shut the door behind me, hopped into the camper and saved my puking till I was around the block.

Riddle me this!

It has come to my attention that we have at least one local bestselling author among our fairly silent (but I assume totally supportive, loving, and massive) readership. So in the literary spirit, I bring you a famous-author-inspired riddle.

James Joyce once said, "A good puzzle is to walk across Dublin without running into a pub." Meaning, just try to walk any route through Dublin without encountering a pub. The wiseacre response to this would be, "Right, so I'll walk into all the pubs on the way." Which is what I did while living there. (I wrote down the best bits, dare I say shenanigans, from those days and if blogs had existed back then, oh the blogging hilarity that would have ensued!)



My version of Joyce's puzzle is, "You cannot walk from the pet food store to my apartment without sidewalks being blocked off almost the whole way because there is so much construction going on. Where do I live?"

The answer is, "everywhere in Boerum Hill." Another answer could be to walk into all the pubs on the way. But my personal answer now is to try to become a successful writer, so that I can scram-o out of here and visit Dublin soon while Auntie Nell is still around.