The Com-POST

See what I did in the post title?  See it?  A famous blogger am I.

Compost: A seven letter word I associate with my housemates from college, who decided they'd store their banana peels in open, cardboard boxes indoors for weeks at a time, making the house so wreak so badly that I retched each time I walked through the door.  True story.

Obviously, this isn't actually what composting is like.  In reality, it's a wonderful thing that doesn't need to be associated with weirdos or hippies or people living in vegan communes.  So, now that I'm moving into my own place, I figured there was no better time to start doing it the right way--and no better place than the Slope, where all of my favorite flaming liberals reside.

Turns out it's not so friggin' easy to compost here.  Well, not the throwing-the-carrots-into-the-fancy-bamboo-vessel part, but once that thing's full, where do I throw that shit?  Here's where I turn to you, you Coop-belonging, tree-hugging FIPS readers: Where's a gal to throw her compost (without having to pay a nine billion dollar membership fee to save the earth)?

'I Joined The Park Slope Food Coop, And All I Got Was This Stinkin Shirt'

Inspired by the recent NYT article lamenting about how verry verry hawd it is to keep up with one's required Coop work shift schdule, our new blog bff Definitive Ink was called to action: behold, the Coop status shirts! You can choose between: "on alert," "suspended," "grace period," or "suspended."

[Yes, people...we a-r-e serious].

Buy the t-shirts here.

TOTALLY. FUCKING. BRILLIANT

The *Real* Park Slope Co-Op

photo: Hannah Whitaker for NY Mag

NY Mag has this long-ass article about the much talked about co-housing group, who may in fact be moving their asses to the outskirts of our leafy nabe.

Here's how this shit is gonna work:

• The group gets together $16 millies and buys some old mattress factory.
• Then they renovate the place.
• Then the co-op members get a 660sf apt for around $500k (which, depending where you are in Park Slope these days, is still slightly overpriced), along with 11,000sf of shared space including a great room, a kitchen, a playroom, an "adults only lounge" (kinky!), a courtyard and a wine cellar.
• Then they mostly gotta leave their door open, be chatty all the time, and try not to get annoyed by everyone else there. But gardening is totally optional!

[NOTE: how is this gonna affect their Food Coop shifts!? Cause if your "roommates" are eating communal food, then you all gotta work. And in a co-housing project, everyone is your roommate. That shit better be in the fine print].

It's likely no surprise to anyone that this sounds like the closest aproximation to hell on Earth I've ever heard of...but I'm the whiny bitch who gets home from work and doesn't want to talk to anyone except for Greg, the judges on SYTYCD, and the dude who handles take-out deliveries for Istanbul.

The NYT Likes to Make Fun Of Coopretards Too!

Daym. If making fun of the Park Slope Food Coop is now sooo mainstream even the NYT is getting in on the action, its clearly time for us to move on. What's next? Any suggestions?

Eh, who are we kidding--we loved every fucking second of this article: Flunking Out At The Food Coop.

(And for the record, we are *still* on the hunt for a new Coop Spy).

Pass The Dutchie on the Left Hand Side

If you think that the teens of Park Slope are the only bitches sneaking into Prospect Park to toke up, think again. Introducing: Marijuana Mamas!

According to MomLogic.com:

A new wave of reefer madness is sweeping suburbia -- but it's not just teenagers who are lighting up. Middle-aged, middle-class soccer moms are smoking pot ... a lot. These women aren't stoners: they're teachers, lawyers, and, perhaps, even your neighbor who prefers puffing a joint to sipping chardonnay.

I don't know...I sort of don't believe it. Unless, of course you can get weed at the Food Coop [OMG, can you?????]