Monday, June 29, 2009
Cara:Brooklyn
Posted by
Cara
Saturday night we went to a party in downtown Brooklyn. This is a place that is again, definitely fodder for blogging. Brooklyn is a place unto itself. They live in a bubble. I am a Long Island girl. I was born in the city but really have no recollection of it. I have been going to Brooklyn since I was about 16 after I met my future husband. Although, we don’t get there as much these days I still love to go.
Men sit out on the sidewalk at an Italian (duh) restaurant drinking cappuccino using the hand that bears the pinkie ring. They have gold chains and hair that is gelled within an inch of its life. They really do say “how you doing?” when they see someone they know. The women are of one of three types. Either they are the “no speaka the English too good”, wear house dresses with gold earrings out in public, cook dinner every single night, and can cut you at the knees with a “look” type. My daughter asked last night, “Why do they all look mad?” “They are not mad” I told her, “it’s just their face.” Or they are the seriously high heeled wearing, lots (I mean lots) of jewelry, gum chewing “what the f*%$ are you looking at?” type. Or they are the no nonsense; I still get my nails done every week, “whatta you mean I tawk loud?” type. You gotta love them all. I do.
You can get pizza at 11:00 pm on a Tuesday night…of course the pizzeria is open! You can buy the best bread in the world. Or cookies that are to die for. You can double park your car on a very busy street to run into the store (you can that doesn’t mean it’s legal) for a minute. And if someone has a problem to can tell them to f-off. You can sit out on the stoop ‘til the wee hours of the morning with your neighbors just shooting the breeze.
It’s like no other place in the world. I realized what a Long Island girl my daughter is too.
When the DJ said “Ok all yous ladies, the dessert tables open and they got that there, uh chawcolate fountain thingie there to dip fruit and other stuff in, along with candy and utha good stuff like dat dere..” She thought he was fooling around. Nope just letting everyone know the dessert table was open.
Gotta love dat! Ooops! I mean that.
Men sit out on the sidewalk at an Italian (duh) restaurant drinking cappuccino using the hand that bears the pinkie ring. They have gold chains and hair that is gelled within an inch of its life. They really do say “how you doing?” when they see someone they know. The women are of one of three types. Either they are the “no speaka the English too good”, wear house dresses with gold earrings out in public, cook dinner every single night, and can cut you at the knees with a “look” type. My daughter asked last night, “Why do they all look mad?” “They are not mad” I told her, “it’s just their face.” Or they are the seriously high heeled wearing, lots (I mean lots) of jewelry, gum chewing “what the f*%$ are you looking at?” type. Or they are the no nonsense; I still get my nails done every week, “whatta you mean I tawk loud?” type. You gotta love them all. I do.
You can get pizza at 11:00 pm on a Tuesday night…of course the pizzeria is open! You can buy the best bread in the world. Or cookies that are to die for. You can double park your car on a very busy street to run into the store (you can that doesn’t mean it’s legal) for a minute. And if someone has a problem to can tell them to f-off. You can sit out on the stoop ‘til the wee hours of the morning with your neighbors just shooting the breeze.
It’s like no other place in the world. I realized what a Long Island girl my daughter is too.
When the DJ said “Ok all yous ladies, the dessert tables open and they got that there, uh chawcolate fountain thingie there to dip fruit and other stuff in, along with candy and utha good stuff like dat dere..” She thought he was fooling around. Nope just letting everyone know the dessert table was open.
Gotta love dat! Ooops! I mean that.
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