What the World Needs Now is Another Magazine Stand

Take a look at this steel monstrosity that has cropped up on 9th Street in between 6th and 5th Avenues.  Since we're not real journalists up in here, I've never actually seen this thing when it's open, so it could be a fruit stand, custard truck, or (what I'm putting my money on) a magazine stand. 

Anyone actually walked by this thing when it's been open?  If it IS a magazine stand, GREAT.  Because God knows that we need somewhere to buy our magazines that isn't the CVS or the Steve's C-Town directly in front of this thing. 

What is this, Midtown?

FIPS (kind of) Cares: PARROT ON THE LOOSE

Usually, FIPS Cares puts us on orange terror alert for missing dogs, but when I was walking along 12th street yesterday afternoon, I came across this little gem:

That's right—we've got a PARROT on the loose.  His name is Tango, and he says things like "Come on" and "Hello."  So if you're walking down the street and you come across a bird that says hello to you, call 917-364-8768.

Why Doesn't This Man Move to Park Slope?

Okay, I know this is a stretch but I love this man.

I think we should invite winnebago dude to the next FIPS event.

Park Slope Moms Are Disgusting Slobs

Don't shoot the messenger, ppl. I'm just dropping some truth bombs on your faces straight from my #1 fave Park Slope blog: Fabulous in Park Slope (faux FIPS).

As you'll recall, Courtney from Faux FIPS is on a quest to rediscover where in the HAYLL all the fabulous is hiding out in our fine ass neighborhood. And newsflash: for those of you keeping track, you should note that there ain't no fabulous whatsoever atop the poorly dyed, probably unbrushed heads of all the moms here in Park Slob:

"I have noticed that my neighborhood mamas have not taken responsibility for their stray grays. Having darker hair like I do, it's is more difficult to cover those wiry strands but not impossible! It's a simple wash, you can even do it yourself (although I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to have Eduardo give you a head massage). I think that it's the honorable thing to do."

Uhm, could I have said it any better myself? Not in a million billion years.

Also, let's be honest: it really IS the honorable thing to do ladiez. TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!!!!!!!! Cause I for one don't want to spend another red hot minute looking at your granny fly aways as you breeze by me with your Bugaboos on your way to Kidville. Ugh!

Anyway, why would you not color your hair? Coloring your hair *might* even give you crunchy, square-rimmed glasses wearing four-eyed moms some teeny tiny hope of actually getting noticed! But probably not, so don't get your hopes up!

"Mamas, this can turn back years; brighten your skin tone and make those blue eyes seen through the square rimmed glasses!"

Not to worry, though! Cause just in case you do find yourself in this granny haired Park Slob club, Courtney offers up a helpful hint: you can probably pick up some non-toxic, vegan, organic hair dye during your next Coop shift!

I'm sure that the Food Coop must sell some version of a hair color? Maybe 'Go-Go Green Grays'? 'Henna the Heck outta those Grays'?"

I-n-d-e-e-d.

So, THANK YOU, thank you, a thousand times thank you Faux FIPS, for bringing this very important issue to light!

ATTACK OF THE RACCOONS

Are you afraid of burglars? Rapists? Roving gang members? Well, save it, cause what allll your asses REALLY should be worrying about is A MOTHERFUCKING RACOON BREAKING INTO YOUR MOTHERFUCKING APARTMENT AND HAVING A BURNING MAN STYLE RAVE IN YOUR MOTHERFUCKING KITCHEN.

T-R-U-T-H.

I thought this shit was fake too, ppl, it was so hard to believe. But after several emails back-and-forth with FIPS reader Jon and his friend Toby (who lives right smack in downtown Park Slope), I too am a believer.

Here's what went down (according to Toby):

I live on the 3rd and 4th floors of a duplex brownstone. The kitchen is on the 3rd floor and 
my cousin sleeps on that floor. My daughter and I sleep upstairs.

 My cousin has a small dog and closes her door at night--her air conditioner was on full blast, so 
she didn't hear anything.

 When she woke up and opened the door to the kitchen, she saw our 
silverware drawers out, silverware all over the floor along with oatmeal
 and other detritus. She thought we'd had a regular burglary until she 
spotted the raccoon head sticking out of the back of the silverware 
drawer.

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