FIPS GETS FUCKED: AN EXPLANATION

Oh hai everybody.

If you happened to reach this site because you were looking for Free Porn, Free Sex Stories or Gay Porn Videos, I'm sorry to say that this url has beeen re-re-directed back to that whiny, know-it-all, annoying blog about all the insufferable people who live here in Park Slope, BK. Sorry to disappoint!

I guess I owe an apology to Enheightened, a Newbie on Brooklynian who had been "eagerly awaiting the news" of our demise. And let's not forget about Former Effed Reader from South Slope who thinks "Ms. Reitman's commentary is as lame as her domain registering skills."...or Dave from Park Slope who had this to say: "actually the new site is a lot more interesting, and the absence of hyper-annoying smugness is a breath of fresh air" in the comments of the Brooklyn Paper post.

Yes, indeedy: I regret to inform all of my frenemies near-n-far that FIPS IS BACK, MOTHERFUCKERZZZZZ!

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Mama Rosa vs. FIPS: The Battle Rages On

Fuck it...the gloves are officially OFF ppl.

So, a few weeks ago I wrote a rather scathing review of the new latin food eatery Mama Rosa. While I didn't hold back, I gave an honest (read: UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE) account of what went down that night. And let's just say shit was very much not pretty.

I thought that would be the end of it, but alas, the internet does NOT disappoint yet again.

Allow me to re-introduce you to Weird Watier and Crystal Necklace dude. I'm not sure how deeply entrenched these fine fellows are in the Mama Rosa empire, but needless to say: they're both pretty damn chatty. And if you think they're leaving notes of apology, think again:

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It Ain't Easy Going Locavore in Park Slope

Gadzooks and concord grapes, Erica isn't fooling when she bitches about how crowded the Grand Army Greenmarket is getting. It was thirty deep to buy eggs on Saturday. The fish line, I get, but I don't know if I have it in me to wait ten minutes on a line for eggs. And where have my dairy dudes gone, by the way? Kid Deux and I were excited to buy some cinnamon toast butter but they were gone.

The Food Coop isn't much better per my exhaustive infipstigation of ideal shopping hours. There aren't any! The lines are so long and some people so persnickety--yes, you get yelled at if you have one too many items on the express line. I had to cover a disciplinary hearing of a coop member getting sanctioned for her many crimes of uncooperative behavior, among them skipping the express line to go straight to a cashier with more than three items. Yes, I AM so serious. 

I've kept this to myself in my failed efforts to get Erica to join the club. But now I find out from the Wall Street Journal (via my google alert), that she can't even join if she wants to unless she gets online at precisely the right moment. Yes, even without you uncooperative people, the food coop is a popular place...

a new policy limits new members to 70 per week and spots are snagged within minutes. "You have to be online at 3 p.m. on Tuesday or Thursday," said Jana Cunningham, a membership coordinator at the Coop. "The window is only like 60 seconds."

What? 

So, I would like to take a moment to praise another Park Slope institution that gets short shrift and has not been given the respect it deserves. Key Food. Yes, bitches, I said it. And I stand by it. I love Key Food.

POOPED IN PARK SLOPE: The Tea Lounge

This just in from FIPS reader Anna (eh, actually it's a month or so old, so multiply all your poopy diaper fantasies by about 1000):

The Tea Lounge has a variety of things that have drawn me in as a writer time and time again: its large seating area, mostly decent coffee, distracting art on the walls, chocolate dipped oreos, etc (just to name a few).  However, The Tea Lounge *also* has many, uhm, "features" that have consistently made me leave before I could do anything close to being productive: deranged regulars-namely, i.e. that guy that refuses to wear shoes and tries to bum cigs from me every 20 minutes, spotty internet and rarely working AC.  I love to hate it; it hates to love me.  I go in; I come out, I come back the next day.

Then finally, I found a reason to dump it for good.

Several days in a row in smelled as though a newborn crawled into the AC vent and shat itself to death.  Day after day the smell built up like aged Camembert.  I let it slide for a while until I found out where the smell was coming from.

Apparently the Tea Lounge is totally fine with letting moms change their people puppies on their couches. Waiting for the bathroom the other day, a shit riddled pre-person was screaming its lungs out while his mom was fidgeting around his diaper bag with shit all over her hands.

Food is served here.  Also, there is a changing fucking table in the bathroom.  How many a couch has invisible baby shit smears on it?  I'm not coming back to find out.

Ok, so look: we haven't actually gone into the Tea Lounge to investigate this shit with a black light, so def consider it heresay. Also, even if this IS true, if you have any illusions that the Tea Lounge would be the only spot in town where this happens, you are probs high right now.

In conclusion: eww.

UPDATE: I RETRACT ANYTHING POSITIVE I SAID ABOUT PROVINI

Last year around this time, Provini was getting a heavy dosage of haterade from Yelp because they reportedly told a baby-toting customer that Provini was "not a kid-friendly restaurant."

Since I hate having a screaming child ruin my meal because their oblivious parents couldn't be bothered to fucking, you know, PARENT their kids, I wrote a praise-filled post on here titled, "Provini Hates Kids?  I Love Provini." 

For those of you who read the blog regularly, you know that the content up in here is about 90% negative and 10% positive, so it was a big deal when I went out on a limb to give kudos to a restaurant that would show such blatant disregard for the neighborhood's baby-friendly, high chair-supplying status quo.  "Fuck yeah," I said.  "I can go to Provini and not have to deal with 10 million crying babies!  Hooray!" 

Well, mark your fucking calendars, because today is the day that I do something I haven't done in a very long time.  That's right.  Here is where I admit I was wrong. 

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