A Note on Park Slope

When I'm asked what neighborhood I'm living, I usually flash gang signs and finish the sentence with "Fo' LYFE!"

I live in Park Slope, perhaps the last neighborhood you'd think of when you think of New York (which may be one of the reasons I like it here). It is a ridiculously family friendly neighborhood. In fact, my stock joke when telling people where I live is: "That's what you do right? You have a kid, you move to Park Slope?" What do you want? I'm not gonna use A-material on you jerks.

We're all pretty alright here. I'm ready to be done with the city, but the Slope is in-and-of itself fine. If I worked here, or at any rate not in the South Bronx, I may have a different perspective. However, there is one thing in this neighborhood that just makes me want to commit savage hipster-based hate crimes: complaining about "the mommies."

This phenomenon pops up in reviews on Yelp*  **, the Times, and even on one of the Best Blogs On The Planet, which lovingly refers to us baby-having types as "breeders." OF COURSE I MADE A BABY! Have you seen the tens of millions of worthless assholes living in this country? Without my seed on this rock, things are going to get EVEN WORSE! You want me on that wall. You NEED me on that wall. 

Look, coming to Park Slope and complaining about the strollers, screaming kids in the restaurants, and the shabby, exhausted way we all end up dressing is like going to Borough Park on a Saturday and complaining about all the hats***.  One thing the boroughs offer better than almost anyplace on the planet is a nice little enclave of like-minded souls for almost every taste, fetish, lifestyle, religion or iced-coffee preference. Park Slope happens to belong to parents who don't want to have deal with their kids growing up in Manhattan, but need to be close (either by choice or by job-based necessity). And if you bitches be comin' up in mah hood again, talkin' all that shit about my CitiMini stroller and mah beagle, I'ma hafta introduce you to my good friends Smith and Wesson. BLAOW! BLAOW!



* See, I can use footnotes in my silly little rantings, too!
** I can even do more than one!
*** I can even use them to congratulate myself on a nice Brooklyn joke!!!