Our Block Sux

I am sitting here nursing my 5 day old son to the booming bass of the 7th Street block party. Let me tell you, those folks on 7th Street know how to get down. Their block party makes Park Slope actually look like a cool place to live--it's intergenerational, multicultural, and fully hosted by a DJ in a Coney Island Cyclones tshirt with a Brooklyn accent that rivals Marty Markowitz's (the Brooklyn Borough President).

I have not had the privilege of seeing the 7th Street block party this year, as the birth fatigue hit me hard today and I napped/nursed with Nico while Adam took Alexandra over to see what was poppin'. He caught a water balloon toss using those grenade balloons that are hard to pop. Then the DJ calls for only kids 13 and over--put in a dollar and winner takes all. Gambling water balloon toss. Love it.

The street is strewn with Christmas lights and strobe lights, and you can hear the folks on their block screaming along with music ranging from all genres. We are envisioning our 2 year old raving in her crib right now, as her room her room is in the backyard backing to 7th Street.

Let me put this in contrast to our block party: moonwalk with cranky teen managing it, cotton candy machine you had to beg another cranky teen to use and make you some cotton candy, yuppies with bad jazz on and pink wine out of a box sitting in their lawn chairs, a 6 foot sub with no condiments on it, and a showing of "Ratatouille" at 8pm. But that's not even the lame part of the equation. The super lame part is that we have lived in this block SEVEN AND A HALF YEARS and there are these douchebags who are like, "Do you live here?" Seriously?

But the highlight of our block party was the 50 year old lady who demanded her ball back from Alexandra, who had found it in the gutter. Classy.

Next year we are staging a block party coup. I am gathering forces. We are taking back the block and you are all invited.