Eeeeeeverybody loves to rip on Park Slope, especially in the media. Anyone who has lived in NYC is familiar with the vitriol that’s been spewed towards my Brooklyn hood, especially in the last 5 years or so. In case you missed it, you can read the animosity here, here, here and even here. I’d like to offer these haters my condolences. You’re just pissy you’re not my neighbor. Here’s why:
I couldn’t afford to live on Prospect Park West in a gazillion years, but come on… it’s stunning.
Tree-lined, Sesame Street-like blocks. No tourists. No crowds.
Prospect Park kicks Central Park’s ass any day of the week.
It’s just really, really beautiful.
We win. You lose. Hate away.
For this Wordless Wednesday I linked up with the fab mamas at Live and Love… Out Loud, Project Alicia, and Angry Julie Monday.
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Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, granddads, pop pops, stepdads, uncles and special men in our lives.
Happy Father’s Day to my dad, who is probably drinking a glass of chardonnay and listening to Barbra Streisand as I type this (…and no, he’s not gay. Although I would love him just the same if he were. Maybe even more, because then he never would have embarrassed me by wearing all those hideous plaid golf pants when I was younger.).
Most importantly, Happy Father’s Day to my husband, Pete. The greatest dad/sea dragon/dinosaur/tickle monster and knight a little girl could ever ask for. Except for when he takes “dad bites” of sandwiches and swallows half the meal in one bite, making her cry. Other than that, he never ceases to make LJ (and I) squeal with laughter.
Want to know another reason why he’s the best dad/husband/friend/son ever? He writes some funny cartoons. Totally obnoxious and offensive… but funny as shit. My favorite? The Park Slope Douche series. It’s ok: we live here, so we’re granted full permission to rip into our neighborhood.
Click here for more. You know you want to.
Happy Father’s Day, peeps!
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