Our New Neighborhod Menace: Casting Directors

No, they're not, really. Did you just think for a moment you might be picked to hug Robert Pattinson, or that the casting notes for Star Wars Episode VII included 'pasty individual with master's degree who knows if kale is past its sell-by date?' Bah. You don't have a chance of being discovered as big Hollywood talent, because you're not married and living in Prospect Heights.

There is a listserv for Prospect Heights Parents, and among other things, it helps parents find babysitters and nannies, lets them know about upcoming stoop sales, and is apparently a target for top-rank reality TV recruiting. This week, a very odd message was mailed to the 2,000 plus strong group looking for "outgoing, fun, successful single men and women based in New York City for an exciting new dating show concept!" Yes, I have bile in my mouth too. It gets worse: "This will be a comic but warm-hearted show that will feature a team of matchmakers who help men and women of any age or sexual orientation overcome their dating challenges in the pursuit of love." At no point is the "award winning television production company's" name mentioned, which begs the question as to why they are more interested in bragging about awards than actually telling us what they were and who, exactly, won them.

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Cool or Not Cool: Leaving Your Human Baby Alone in the Other Room at Starbucks While You Wait for Your Iced Double-Shot

A while back, FIPS asked this same question about a laptop and an open purse. I would place an unattended laptop and purse in the other room at Starbucks in a category like “Idiotic or Really Idiotic,” whereas for a BABY, the question might be “Today’s Parents Are Too Overprotective or Call Child Services?”

Walking from the coffee-making room to the coffee-drinking room in the Starbucks on 7^th recently, I was startled (like, cartoon-startled; I think I reared back) to notice a very young baby in its car seat under an empty table close to the door.  My head started swiveling looking for a caretaker of some kind. A woman across the room and I made eye contact, launching into that pantomime where we both signal to the other, “Uh, is that … yours?” and of course, it’s neither of ours, and then she’s standing up, and I’m looking into the other room, and we both have our eyebrows up and our eyes bulging, when finally a woman casually glances into the room, and I pounce: “Is that yours??” Affirmative.

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[What You Should Order At...] Bella Gioia

See that picture above? It’s a salad. A scrumptious, orgasmic salad. Prosciutto-wrapped Romaine with cheese, figs, and thick balsamic goodness. I could have licked the plate, and for me that is the best lagniappe from a chef.

Bella Gioia enters the Park Slope food competition with a newly built space at 4th and Union, a corner that has recently been getting attention by foodies for the new options in dining (Dino BBQ, Taco Santo, Wangs). The menu is Sicilian with a modern twist, with a seasonal menu that will soon feature fresh ingredients grown next door at the new community garden. Chef Nico is the brains behind the menu. Schooled in Manhattan with an apprenticeship and training in Italy, he is doing a wicked job of taking traditional comfort food built on locally sourced ingredients, incorporating some molecular gastronomy, and handing it over to our eager blabber mouths for pleasure and enjoyment. Arugula Pesto Gemelli? Gorgeous.  Ravioli in Tomato Fondue Sauce? Melts your cold-heart. Seriously good eats, people.

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[FIPS WAS THERE…] MORBID ANATOMY MUSEUM

I was equally giddy with anticipation and awash in the heebie-fucking-jeebies upon arriving at the newly opened Morbid Anatomy Museum at 424 Third Avenue in Brooklyn. 

The Morbid Anatomy Museum is a new 4,200 square foot non-profit institution dedicated to the celebration and exhibition of artifacts, histories and ideas which fall between the cracks of high and low culture, death and beauty, and disciplinary divides.

I’m not particularly squeamish, nor am I into gory horror movies. I suppose I was anticipating some kind of unflinching look at death, à la HBO’s Six Feet Under. I imagined it was going to be full of brooding sexy types reveling in the painful fact that life is fleeting, making it the new Gowanus dating hotspot---cable television has taught me that existential crises can be a real panty dropper. Everything dies, so Carpe Diem in my drawers, Nathanial Fisher, Jr!

The entry through the first floor bookstore/café feels promising. It’s spacious but otherwise has a typical independent Brooklyn coffee shop vibe, with the added bonus of a substantial collection of books on death, diseases and mourning. I try to mask my enthusiasm for the impending horrors that surely await me on the other side while paying my $10 admission fee to a woman who is apathetically restocking books on the Bubonic Plague or possibly excruciating Syphilitic deaths. Everyone there is completely blasé and I’m just trying to act normal while half expecting that I’m about to see the Elephant Man’s bones.

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Rumorsville: New Tenant In Sweet Melissa's Space Is A Total Head-Scratcher

Late last week, we heard through the grapevine that the former Sweet Melissa's location across from PS321 was finally going to reopen as...Lice Busters. [Cue deflating balloon sound] A friend of FIPS apparently ran into the Lice Busters owner's son, who said they would be opening a storefront location "next to the pizza place across from 321" within a couple of weeks. 

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