Who Gives A Shit: Help Me, Help You

Because I have an eighteen-stop completely local commute from South Slope to my nine to five in the mornings, I wake up like, twenty minutes before I have to leave, drag my ass up to the F train in a half-conscious stupor (but immaculately put together, of course), and then spend the next forty-five minutes staring into space (which explains why I’ve been on page four of Crime and Punishment for the last two weeks).

Staring into space often turns into me inventorying everything that everyone is reading, thus assuming I know everything about their lives solely based on their book selection.  Yes, I assume everyone with a Kindle is reading erotica.  Especially you.

But over the last week, I’ve noticed a disproportionate number of self-help books, including shit like How To Find Your Inner Goddess, How To Make Money With Your Ass Still on the Couch, You Will Lose Weight Just By Reading This, etc. 

I want my trashy romance novel readers back…so I can read over their shoulders.  I’ve already found my inner goddess, dammit.

Anyone else notice this self-help phenomenon recently? [ed note: And follow-up: do you think any of that shit actually work?]

How To Happy New Years?

So, for my first fully-employed-look-Ma-Imma-big-girl-now Park Slope New Year's Eve, I figured I'd take a hint from the habits of my Brownstone Slope neighbors and go big: throw a dinner party. 

A super fucking classy eight person invite-only dinner party, Slope style.  You know, locavore shit, and doing the Maggie thing by purchasing some dirty whore cheese at the Larder.

Let me tell you, my non-Brownstone-owning, non-nanny-having friends: throwing a dinner party in your tiny apartment with about four days to plan is not among the smarter things you can do. 

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My Shoemaker is More Awesome Than Your Labradoodle

photo: via Brooklynometry (they sell this shit there!)

At FIPS, we like to mock shit. 

I mean, whatever, it's Slope, so it's kinda easy, y'know?  But just because we hate you and your stroller in our favorite bar, doesn't mean we don't totes love our unsung neighborhood heroes.

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COOP SHAME TSHIRTS, THE REDUX

Fuck being out of town for a wedding, cause I end up spending a million dollars and then end up missing shit like this: COOP SHAME TEES.

FIPS set the trend by featuring this shit, but now everyone is jumping on board...and quite deservedly. Cause it looks like my holiday shopping is all done for the year (Grandma, I apologize in advance, but this is really better than those bath salts).

Take your pick among the best, because you know you missed your damn shift and liked it: 

-Suspended at the Coop

-Grace Period at the Coop

-On Alert at the Coop

Oh yeah, and end hunger in Brooklyn while you're at it: a percentage of the proceeds goes to a Brooklyn hunger-relief charity.  Seriously.  Making fun of people while feeding the needy?  It doesn't get better than that.

Park Slope is fucking famous, guys.

Ring ring, paging Adrian Grenier?  Hit us up and we'll buy you one so you can wear it loud and proud, you cheat.

Now, next order of business: one of you single Slope boys (yes, all of five of you) has to knock me up so I can make brilliant use of that hot pink Got Kombucha? onesie.

Get em while they're hot here.

Meredith is a freelance writer who can often be found yelling at her computer in the Tea Lounge while editing her first novel.  She lives on the border of Park Slope and Windsor Terrace, depending on who you ask (but defends Terrace Bagels to the death, regardless).  She self-indulgently writes about  all of these things on her personal blog, Meredithturits.tumblr.com.

HOLY WAFFLES, PARK SLOPE, IT’S NUMBER 5 RECYCLING DAY!

Many of my Sundays are spent at the Tea Lounge pretending I’m advancing my career as a writer (come say s'up, friends!).  Usually, I make my grand entrance onto Union street from Seventh--this is so the coopretards and I stay clear out of each other’s paths. 

Yesterday, I made the mistake of approaching the Tea Lounge from Fifth (foreshadowing: BIG MISTAKE). As a result, I had to walk through the most insane Coop madness I’ve ever seen: NUMBER FIVE RECYCLING DAY!!!! 

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