Bill Murray Is Our New BFF

Dear Bill Murray,

It has come to our attention that you have recently been hitting up some random house part-ay's in Billyburg and maybe even playing peek-a-boo with some unsuspecting strangers in Union Square, all in an effort, I presume, to amuse your poor, rich, self.

Rad.

I'm not rich...or famous...and I get bored with shit a lot, so I *totally* applaud your efforts to mix-it up a bit and have some fun with your celebrity status.

Only here's the thing, Bill (canIcalluBill? OK, cuil): If you want to start exposing yourself to the real dark underbelly of the NYC party scene, you've gotta get your shit as far away from Williamsburg as possible. I mean, aren't you too old for all that hipster BS?

I guess if U wanna start smokin crystal meth...or learn how to DJ...or join a sketch comedy troupe, WBurg might be the place for you.

But the flipside (isn't there *always* a flipside, Bill?) to hanging out with these young, self-important hiptards is that you're always gonna be judged. I mean, that dude who told you he thought you were "making some bad life choices!?" Fuck that cocksucker!

Come to Park Slope, Bill.

We have house parties too! AND all sorts of other celebrations like kids birthdays, puppet shows, Bris's, bake sales, and Lovocore backyard B-B-Q's. You could seriously keep ur ass busy e-v-e-r-y day of the week.

Shit, if you are super bored, join the Park Slope Food Coop and work a couple of shifts. Adrian Grenier did it and that dude gets more ass than he knows what to do with.

It's cool cause you'll still be in Brooklyn, so you've got that hip factor you're obvs on a constant quest for, but no judgment whatsoever! You see, there's just way less judgment here in Park Slope. For realz. It's almost like you're in a "judge free zone"...or "Lost in Translation" (lulz). Don't hate the playa, hate the game, yo.

Anyway.

Hope to see you this weekend (judgment free) in da Slope.

xo,
me

My No-Cruelty Mouse Control Solution Involves Smashing Them to Death With Gigantic Fucking Cinderblocks.

Do you have mice?

Our apartment is fucking infested with mice. It's seasonal. Kind of.

It freaks the shit out of my wife, and though I'm more content to sit with my laptop while the mice run around me and mind their own business, I have to admit that it is extremely disturbing to watch them run into my daughter's room while she's sleeping.

We have tried:

• poison
• traps
• walking around like spelunkers and filling up every goddamn hole in our ancient brownstone with brillo and some kind of cement paste
• a sound machine

Ha - funny story about the useless fucking sound machine - there are these settings on it, and one of them says "inaudilble" - the instructions say something like:

The inaudible setting should be sufficient for standard household operation. While sound emitted at this setting should not be audible to most humans, it is possible that those with extremely attuned hearing may still be able to sense the unit's frequency while it is operating at this level.

And then you turn it on - and I swear to god this is true - it's like this loud fucking emergency broadcast system tone that makes you want to move out of your apartment. IT's POSSIBLE that those with extremely attuned hearing might hear it?!? They make it sound like some shit only dogs and superman can hear, and then it's so goddamn loud my grandma can hear it from the living room and she's dead.

Fucking sales copy.

And forget about the other setting - I think it's called "LOUD" - it just sounds like Chernobyl. It must be like a party-gag setting or for use in a barn.

Anyway, we've tried all of these solutions and none of them work. We leave glue traps out, because they sometimes catch mice in them, but then here's our problem: getting rid of the mice once they are stuck in the traps.

I don't like watching them suffer, because in the end they are little living creatures even if they're mice. It feels wrong. You can't peel them off of the glue traps because once caught in that shit, their feet are fucked for life. A friend of mine just puts them into the garbage on 7th avenue, but this is about the most fucked up thing i can think of - they just sit there stuck to the glue trap and starve in the dark??? Horrible.

Typical fuckin hippie - he thinks he's being kind because he doesn't have to SEE them suffer or kill them himself. This beef is organic so the cow had no antibiotics in it when they held it upside down and slit it's throat with an hatchet the size of an airplane wing.

Anyway, I gotta take responsibility for them then and there - the way I see it, as soon as they're stuck in one of those things, they're frightened and in a horrible non-medicated panic attack situation. So, I lift the traps into a black plastic bag, (bare hands! tough guy! dad was wrong!) take it downstairs and outside, set it on the sidewalk, and I drop a truly gigantic 40-pound cinderblock onto the bag that causes them to disintigrate. They die instantly. It's the most humane thing I can think to do once their lives are fucked by being caught in toxic glue-cement.

Still sucks, but I wish they would listen to the hundreds of warnings I've posted for them in their holes and in their comments sections so that it didn't always have to come to this.

What do you do?

Who Gives A Shit: Do You Hate Your Job?

Another simple question: Do you hate your job (if you have one).

How old are you?
What do you do?
Do you hate your job?

That's it.

Again, answer in the comments (and feel free to go stealth anon if you want some prive).

FIPS ToDo's

*Screw the MTA's Report Cards...it won't be long before the G Train is Twittering (NY Shitty)

*Rent Now, Buy Later (NYT)

*Check out the new "Tasks" feature in Gmail (Official Gmail Blog)

*Krump on over to Rahmblr: a Tumblog documenting all things Rahm Emanuel-related (Public School Intelligentsia).

*Behold! A new Shiba Inu Puppy Cam (Gawker).

*Order your copy of "Yes We Can," a new book from Park Slope photographer Scout Tufankjian in which she documents her two year journey following Barack Obama as he campaigned for the White House (NY Daily News).

La Bagel Delight: Another Inspirational Park Slope Tale

Once upon a time there was a woman...and this woman couldn't smell anything at all. But, wait! Then all the sudden she could. (Hooray!) What was one of the first things she sniffed after her long dreaded smell-cation?: Bagels at La Bagel Delight.

I have long maintained that La Bagel Delight has one of the best bagel's in the city (and yes, I've tried Ess-a-Bagel and yes I've tried H&H). When your bagels are *literally* (almost? probably?) responsible for the return of someone's olfactory abilities, I'm pretty sure this entitles you to a bump up on your street cred.

Please take note.

(via New York Times)