[Trying to Get Fucked] In Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

Yet again, here's our own Jew-cy, randy, "can I get some action up in herrre, plz!," Park Slope hetero: "Mark*" (*names have been changed to protect the soon-to-be-fucked).

All women who want to get laid in Brooklyn are prostitutes.

Seriously...like real prostitutes.

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[Gawked] in Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

This installment comes from Jill, a run-of-the-mill Park Slope resident who was gawked at NYM.

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[Trying To Ge Fucked] In Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

Yet again, here's our own Jew-cy, randy, "can I get some action up in herrre, plz!," Park Slope hetero: "Mark*" (*names have been changed to protect the soon-to-be-fucked).

I can’t hold my liquor. Well, I can…but this hold dissipates when I’m ten deep and it’s 3 in the morning. I know it’s gone when dreams of chicken-and-something pizza from Joe's sound better and less complicated than going through the motions of getting this girl in front of me home.

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[Trying to Get Fucked] In Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

This week's column is special cause its gonna go down all regular-n-shit, once-a-week style: meet our own Jew-cy, randy, "can I get some action up in herrre, plz!," Park Slope hetero: "Mark*" (*names have been changed to protect the soon-to-be-fucked).

I've been fucked in Park Slope, and I wouldn't mind it happening again. Soon, preferably.

I've lived here for five years; through long-term relationships, long-distance flings (read: Williamsburg), and long-lasting dry spells. I've been dry for months now. The longest since I awkwardly convinced my first girlfriend a decade ago that having sex with me was a good idea (it wasn't). I'm ashamed to say that the last time I saw a girl naked was September.

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[Captive] in Park Slope; Bikram is Sandskrit for Torture.

A New York Native is Held Captive By The Passive-Aggressive Energies of a Nouveau Yoga Community

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

So everyone is going to the Bikram place on Flatbush these days. People you would NEVER think were into yoga go there - Not just relaxed, looking-for-spiritual-growth -and-enlightenment hippie-types, but yuppies who are in a hurry and want "results" yesterday.

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[New Girl] In Park Slope: My First Week

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

Remember the randy, SF ex-pat, former Billyburger, future literary wunderkind wannabe: Caitlin? Well, she's back.

So two days after Christmas my dad and I packed up an unmarked white van and drove down from Boston to Paaaarrrkkk Slooooppe. Dads had never been here before, and honestly, we still could have been in Connecticut when he was all, "I think we're here!" because I don't know Park Slope from New Haven. I am new. So screw me. I mean sue me!

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[Good Ole Boy/Starfucker Wannabe] In Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

This week: meet a drawlin, ballin, LOLing, kentucky fried funny man: Kary.

I done seen a celeb.

I took up permanent residence in The Slope on October the twentieth in the year of our lord two double naught eight. My wife and I moved here after living our entire lives in the deep, fried south. We moved eleven hundred miles north for two distinct reasons:

1) to circumvent an early death by continual weight gain; and
2) ZOMG, the celebs!

You can imagine my disappointment when, after I had been in the god-forsaken north for two solid months, I had not yet seen hide nor hair of even one grade A, B, or C celeb. My depression spiraled out of control such that I was eating like I did back in The South. If I'm still eating poorly and not seeing any ZOMG celebs, then why the hell did I move here? Sure, I enjoy looking down on people as much as the next Sloper (and it is so much easier in NYC than Mississippi). I mean, I work on the 17th floor--all I can see are heads down there.

To top off the greatest disappointment of my life, some friends from back home came to visit for a few days, and they saw Steven Fucking Spielberg. Now that just plain pissed me off.

Well, all that has changed as of last Sunday afternoon. I am so very pleased to announce my first ZOMG celeb sighting and right here in The Slope even!

See, I was headed over to the Pavillion to see Mr. Benjamin Buttons when my wife spied a man and his family exiting their domicile. I, of course, was busy tweeting about the bicycle gang that was installing a memorial to a lost friend at the corner of Prez and 8th so I did not see this man. She excitedly whispers to me "I think that's John Turturro." I was immediately skeptical as I had long since given up on my dreams of celeb schmoozing and had now gorged my way to what will surely be a premature death of lo mein and french fries. After walking ten yards further, we both stopped dead in our tracks, swiveled our heads inwards towards each other all the way around back the way we had come. We were extremely conspicuous in our humble gawking. But lo and behold, mine eyes did see a real life ZOMG celeb. It WAS John Turturro!

Here is where I have decided not to embellish the tale and spin a yarn about how I approached the royal Turturros on a lovely Sunday afternoon, and they were so taken by my southern charm and grace that they invited us to spend the afternoon frolicking in the park with them and their children. We then retired to their brownstone, ordered Hunan Delight takeout, and watched The Big Lebowski, Cradle Will Rock, and O Brother, Where Art Thou eighteen times each.

Alas, no. Eye contact we did not make and quickly was our lively pace up the sidewalk resumed. We hurriedly made our way to the theater, and all the while talked of our first celeb sighting (of course, while we talked we called, texted, and twittered everyone we knew).

See? Dreams really do come true.

Follow Kary on Twitter here (we do).
Read his blaahhg, Karyhead too.

Join our ongoing series and write for us. Who are YOU? We want everyone repped, so whoever you are, we wanna hear from you. Black in Park Slope? Lez in Park Slope? Puerto Rican in Park Slope? Bitter Mom in Park Slope? Email us

[New Girl] In Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

This week: meet a randy, non lez, SF ex-pat, former Billyburger, future literary wunderkind wannabe: Caitlin.

I am new in town. Fresh off a plane from sunny, beautiful, familiar SF.

It's scary here! Maybe!

I have no tour guide, and Park Slope, (unlike my old Brooklyn stomping ground of Williamsburg), is actually more than one street long. Will I get lost? Will I fumble? Will I fall and scrape my knees? What is the best block to do that on? Stay tuned as I foolishly man-handle Park Slope like a drunk with an heirloom tomato at a Slow Food Farmer's Market on a Sunday. Am I speaking your language yet? Am I?

So I've heard a lot about this little navel of Brooklyn. Some dumb shit that is totally not true and some dumb shit that probably is. I've come up with 5 major things I keep hearing about Park Slope (which I'm sure you've heard too) and I responded with my honest opinions. Clearly I have no idea what I am talking about, which is sort of why I am writing for this blog in the first place.

5 Rumors I've heard about Park Slope:

1. "There are lots of babies. Babies and strollers and breastfeeding in public. You will be a mommy or hate mommys in no time. Also you will see a lot of exposed nursing boobs."
You know what, I've actually never been a mommy before but I sort of think the whole "Park Slope is where pregnant ladies and their professor husbands go to do the parent thing" makes perfect sense. I mean, Park Slope seems suburban-y enough, but it still has all the perks and charms of living in a city. Like rats. And fancy salads with organic shit in them. And botanical gardens. And bars you can go to instead of sleeping on the couch. If (when???) I have human puppies, I will probably still live in a city. Probably Atlantic City though. Better bar scene.

2. "I've heard there's also lots of lesbians. The educated, kinda cute, sneaker wearing...oh, I'm sorry, wait....are you a lesbian?"
I'm glad you asked. No, I am not a lesbian (sorry ladies!) but if I was I would totally live in Park Slope...for all the same reasons I am living in Park Slope as someone who digs dudes. I like expensive coffee, cheap alcohol, gourmet sandwiches, Tegan and Sarah, books by old men and transsexuals, watching movies with friends, eating out (at restaurants! grow up!) and PSlopey seems to pander to all those things. But I also like boys and men. More men than boys these days, just FYI. I am looking for a man who is something between a Sugar Daddy and Henry Littleboots (my cat) and preferably lives in the city so I can stay over after class. I don't know why I just said that. Okay, anyways, lesbians! Yes! Let me remind you, I just moved from San Francisco, so being shocked by the dense population of lesbians would be like someone moving from Naples to Rome and being like, "Giuseppe, there sure are a lot of Italians here! How come nobody told me?!"

3. "Everyone from San Francisco lives in Park Slope. Williamsburg is too judge-y for those kind hippie souls."
Someone at a bar actually told me this last night. He said, "I mean, as an ex-SFer myself, I am saying you are going to meet a lot of other San Franciscans in 'the Slope' (ed note: actually Ditmas Park is the new San Francisco...haven'tcha heard?) It will feel like home. You will do well. I promise" He then winked with his right eye and threw the long end of his scarf over his shoulder and trotted out of the bar like a Psychic Christmas Elf of my dreams. But really, I get it. I actually moved from Williamsburg to San Francisco for all the reasons I moved from San Francisco to Park Slope. Shit was small. I knew everyone. I missed my mom. Whatever. The point is, I am cool with living in an ex-pats of SF enclave. The way I see it, the more ex-San Franciscans I have as neighbors, the better chance I have of scoring cheap weed.

4. "If you are a writer, you will get a book deal. Or at least get to meet some other writers or something."
They said this about San Francisco too, but it turns out you have to have tits and a dick at the same time or some equivalent of that to get a book deal out there. Which is cool, I want to read about that stuff, but I mean, author-heroes say write what you know and so on and blah forth, and well, I lack a weenie. True story. Anyways, I actually do think a book deal is in my future, so I am happy to be part of the Park Slope literary canon. And I will tell people this, every Thursday night at Buttermilk, around 11:30 o'drunk.

5. "You are the Afghanistan of Brooklyn. Nobody can find you on a map."
When I told my friends I were moving back to Brooklyn they were all, "YAY!!!" and then I told them where at and they were all, "oh." One of them even called it "Gowanus". Your mom is a Gowanus! But seriously, fuck you guys. It's close to three trains and I have a back yard. So sit and spin motherfuckers (on my middle finger). Who ya gonna call when you want to get drunk and sunbathe nude in August? Oh, your little friend Caitlin, that's who. So grab some Rolling Rock and bearded man-candy for moi and get your stupid Greenpoint asses over here jerks.

It's Park Slope Time!

Join our ongoing series: [insert ethnicity/religion/sexual orientation/occupation here] "...in Park Slope." We want everyone repped, so whoever you are, we wanna hear from you. Black in Park Slope? Lez in Park Slope? Puerto Rican in Park Slope? Bitter Mom in Park Slope? Email us

[Undercover Indie Hipster] In Park Slope

This is an ongoing series in which we attempt to bring you lots 'o different perspectives on what its like to *actually* live in Park Slope...from readers just like you (or not--that's the whole point).

This week: meet a cashmere sweater wearin, Diet Coke swillin, former Manhattanhite undercover hipster.

"C'mon Slopers...we know we're out there. We're the relative newcomers to the neighborhood, having transported ourselves from Manhattan to seek some quiet and sanity and to be a bit hip, but we are also silently happy to not have to forgo such Manhattan-style conveniences as delivery from Blue Ribbon Sushi and weekly manicures at Seven Nails. I'm one of the ones the oldies love to hate - I have blonde hair, wear Burberry raincoats and work out every day at Slope Health and Fitness (because it's like Equinox but for normal people). I get a muffin every morning from Jose at Conneticut Muffin and gallons of Diet Coke at Met Supermarket on 7th Ave. I know that the cashews taste better from Union Market than the Bodega on Carroll Street.

But there is something that I need to admit to my community on behalf of people like me. I wasn't always like that, and deep down inside, beneath the cashmere, there's a slightly indie, slightly hippie, very laid back person tying to get out. And only Park Slope has managed to capture that part of me, more than anywhere else I have ever lived (and for the record, that's 4 countries and as many continents). I like the fact that there are lesbians checking me out in the changing room at the gym, and that I can have a real, thoughtful conversation with the teller at Community Bookstore, or that my neighbor sits outside on his porch in the summer, pretending to read his paper when I know he's only ogling the 25 year old who lives below. It's the familiarity and family that means "home". It's that I can see people I actually know here.

But even more, the authentic Slopers are those that intrigue me the most. These are the old dudes who actually sit on their doorstoop and listen to the radio in the afternoon and describe the comings and goings of everyone. It's like it's 1956 again and nothing has changed. I can tell those guys a mile away - and they don't care at all. It's all these things that make me realize I could never, ever leave Park Slope. Despite the annyong kids on the corner, and that the post office on 7th and 3rd makes me feel like I'm in prison. Yep, it's my home. Thank you for sharing your hood with me. I promise to keep my yuppiness to myself and let my inner park sloper shine."

Wanna tell us what its like for YOU to live in Park Slope? Email us.