Go back to Park Avenue
Once when our pal Joanna was reviewing restaurants for TimeOut, we went up to Harlem for dinner. It was one of those classic, awesome/unusual dinners.
We show up at the restaurant and it's closed.

There are people in there and we tap on the glass and a woman comes out to tell us that someone in the family had died and they had spent all day feeding people at the wake. But then she looked at us and like the mother/grandmother she was invited us in anyway. She was out of a lot of the food, but she made us all full plates and it was all very good and homemade and delicious and left us feeling warm and loved and all that.

On the way back to the train, we passed this little group of teens and one of them yelled, "Go back to Park Avenue".

Which was ironic since we were all living paycheck to paycheck in Brooklyn or the lower east side (before both of those areas became stupid expensive and cool). I wanted to ask him if he could assist us getting a place on Park Avenue. Maybe he knew someone? Someone who had a cheap place to rent?
With a doorman? Huh? Any help?

That was the last time someone told me to go back to where I came from (or wanted to come from).

Mannequins: Freaking me out

Go home white people!
Saturday night we are walking through our neighborhood, the ever attractive and tasty Carroll Gardens. It was a lovely evening. We had a bottle of wine and were headed to a late dinner at the crazy-good pizza place over on Henry.
We approach three (white) people chatting on their stoop. Two men and a woman.
A young boy had just walked by and said hello to them. He was arab-esque.
The young boy continues on his way.

Right as we pass by them we hear the man say to the other two: "You know, the arabs are good people. That kid's family lives next to my father and always checks in on him and takes care of him".

And then louder and towards us: "Not like these white people moving in!"

Holy shit! We were zinged for being white! By a fat-ass white man!

Because we were starving and on our way to dinner (and when they give you a table there, you take it) we didn't stop. Not that we normally would. I don't think.
But all through dinner it bugged me.

I understand this guy's frustration with the changing of his neighborhood. All the Italian folks are disappearing and being replaced by these pesky white kids. Ironic shirts and clever dogs. Fancy baby stollers.
These stupid restaurants and cafes and coffee shops are going up charging stupid money for things. Boutiques for children's clothing on every corner.
Asian fusion everywhere!

I wonder if he's a landlord. If so, I assume he's charging stupid rent. Stupid douchebag rent.
Stupid douchebag rent that drives the old school residents further out and brings in more stupid douchebag messenger bag carrying iPod holding white kids.

Speaking of
Can someone recommend a new bag that isn't a messenger bag so that I can carry my toys to work and not look like every other guy on the train?

When my mom-in-law and her posse were visiting a few weeks back, they went to a church service one morning and hung around afterwards and chatted up the staff and got a tour and all that.
Apparently, all the churches in our neighborhood are losing their congregations. The young kids aren't going to church.

Granted, the neighborhood was (from what I can tell) traditionally catholic and it could just be something with the catholic population decreasing. Nonetheless, the smirking masses don't go to church and so some of the churches are combining to stay afloat - and then the empty churches get turned into apartments with douchebag rents.

So far
White kids don't:
- go to church
- help out that douchebag's father

Change makes things all different I guess.

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