It was better. I have nothing much more to say. Other than that I CANNOT BELIEVE the girl child is still hungry. It boggles the mind.
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Because some things NEVER change, I don’t see why I can’t just put up an annotated version of last year’s FIPS post without ever having to descend to the hell that is Park Slope’s 7th Avenue Heaven…
Last year’s journey:
I’m going with hell this year since it is easily 500 degrees in the center of 7th Ave at this very moment, surely an indicator of hades-like conditions. (Okay, not so hot this year; that’s an improvement)
I’m heading back out now that I’ve dropped off the beast, who is still panting pitifully to the beat of the keyboard clickety clacking. Had to carry him the last two blocks and he’s no lightweight. (NFW am I bringing that poorly-behaved beast this year!)
In defense of our street fair, it’s getting a lot better, which is to say that the ratio of local or cool stuff is way up from the days when it was only tube sock and sheet set purveyors. (I actually could use both; maybe I do have to go)
Love the black skull and cross-bones brooklyn t-shirts from ROCK STAR REVOLUTION. I buy a few every year. You part-time anarchists should appreciate them. (Still going.)
Love the old-school 35 mm dude with the cool pix of vanishing New York, especially because he thinks blogs are for phony-assed pansies.
Love CHRIS OWENS. Go Chris! Somebody, vote for this awesome guy for something, for god’s sakes. Oh crap, is he running against my girl Hope’s boy companion for “MALE” DISTRICT LEADER? Why DO we need gender-based district leaders and is there a tranny category? Wait, no. He’s running for Democratic State Committee. I don’t know what that even is but I’m going to vote for him. (I guess it’s safe to say that Anthony Weiner won’t be out waving this year! I think Chris Owens won, right? And my girl Hope Reichbach died too young this spring.)
My children did, of course, manage to zero in on the crap. I was importuned by the elder to buy the Chucky family boxed set, complete with cute little saws and knives. The younger is complaining at this very moment that we deprived her of some wooden frog she loved. She just left to get her new Ecuadoran wooden recorder, god help us. (Nothing’s changed here.)
And, finally, where else can you enjoy the stylings of old Journey songs in harmonic beatbox and song. That is what they call that spitty hip-hoppy bebop thing, right? Anyway, the Red States kept me more awake than Norah Jones with their awesome cheesefest. I don’t know if I love them or hate them. Both, I think. (I’m sure to find somebody to love for all the wrong reasons.)
Okay, I’m actually kind of stoked. Here we go. Wish me luck.