…that started the whole city… LARPing
…but I didn’t see
…that the joke was on meeeeeeeeeee
That was 2.5 ridiculous years, y’all. Thank the moped gods (Lester, Chad, Sambo’s man tits) it’s over.
RIP Orphanage Mopeds 2009 - 1979

…that started the whole city… LARPing
…but I didn’t see
…that the joke was on meeeeeeeeeee
That was 2.5 ridiculous years, y’all. Thank the moped gods (Lester, Chad, Sambo’s man tits) it’s over.
RIP Orphanage Mopeds 2009 - 1979

It’s goddamned snowing again and all we’ve got to show for it is a sludge river ironically flowing down Thames Street. Shocking to none, we’re relatively winter-bluesy here at the shop:
Joey has been diminished to watching Love Actually and eating cinnamon-coated Pretzel Crips; Bradley has rescheduled all his court dates and flown off to California to stretch out; Ryan is leaving the country for the first time in his life and will soon experience a whole new world of things to complain about; Gabriel got married and there’s nothing funny about that; Liz got fat; Alex bought in to the corporate world and is a shell of his former self; Andrew did things that Andrew does; Richmond is still south of here, both directionally and in terms of dignity; Handsome Dan whittled himself a backbone and moved (downstairs); Cliff fell in love with a Swede because she’s cheap, modern, and easy to take apart; Noah still kind of looks like a neutered Tony Hawk; the enthusiasts want to reach death-speed on their motor toys, and we’re obliging; and I’m reducing the blog, only in it’s 3rd season, to a Fresh Princean clip show episode.
So. When’s Bikini Season start?
Sorry, no joke today. Only that we’re having a sale. Come to the store, bring us cookies, buy some parts at discounted prices. 20% Off okay?
Post stuffed-meat blues have already got the gang at the Orphanage Moped Shop down. How are you, Arthritis Remedy spammer? You have a good ThanksG? No?
Hey, in an attempt to liven everyone’s spirits, I’ve taken the liberty of providing the blog a short list of what the shop lollygaggers are thankful for:
-Me, I’m thankful for a good moped shop season. And for young, impressionable women (and her low standards).
-Bradley’s also on board with the women thing. He’s also thankful that people are bored or thick enough to watch terrible reality television, thus keeping him employed and sending the NYC court systems’ kids to college.
-Ryan is thankful for little. Well, maybe Pesto.
-New boy Joey is thankful we’re patient enough to listen to mundane stories about California and Texas without driving us to steer Enthusiast Apparati into goddamn brick walls.
-Dan is thankful that he’s allowed to come to the shop sometimes.
-Gabriel is obviously thankful for the bun in the oven, Giggles Jr. He’s especially thankful that he will soon have an outlet to pass down such fatherly wisdoms as “I have candy at home.”
-Cliff thanks gawd.
-You are thankful for an honest to goodness moped shop that offers you honest to goodness moped parts, honest to goodness advice, honest to goodness prices, and honest to goodness smarm.

So as not to get overwhelmed by the constant mental health breaks from fixing frenchy mopeds and huffing peach Air Wick, we’ve adopted some new drinking regulations! 24′s of Corona for everyone! So festive! Unrelated picture follows:

Tomorrow I’ll blog about our new baby, Joe. Hopefully we can compile some stories about how weird he kept Austin and how golden his gates were. Can’t wait.
Apparently there are those who miss us, the bloggers, and all that we do. Sadly, Bloggy Blog is 6th or 7th down on the list of priorities – right behind lady jokes and Willie Nelson’s Countryman – now that we are operating Bushwick’s finest Motor-porium (Sorry Pote’s Custom Yarn Harleys). Since I am giving, kind, and all out of in-store innuendo, here’s one of those, sigh, recap rundowns:
- Summer has been in full swing. The Official Orphange Waitin’ List is back and is long. So call next time, unless you want to lock your bike around the corner and run the risk of it getting street-arted by bored youths.
- We sold bikes to suckers in transitionary pre-Real Motorcycle periods of their lives. Thanks suckers!
- 1977 packed up and closed down their San Fran store. Now whose floor is Flynn gonna mop?
- Cliff helps out on Sundays.
- The massive exodus from California continues – Annelise, Erin, Bella, Garvan, couple Treats dudes (evidenced by their top tanks, drug usage, and knowledge of castle sales), Joey, soon Noah, Ross from Cracked.com, Peter Fonda and Snake Plisskin, probably Pat Turner. Isn’t it exciting that you have no idea who these people are? Isn’t it?
- The New York Times put another superfluous nail in print’s coffin by featuring us in an article, complete with picture of awkward standabouts in front of the store and a Ryan Due filth machine.
- Time Out New York followed suit. Next thing you know some local rag you’ve never heard of will be jabbering about our takeover of fixed gear culture’s tiny hatted bandwagoneers.
- Oh wait.
- We sold more bikes.
- There was a rally hosted by Mission 23 and a person from Boston was overheard to say that it was “cool” and “fun.” Also, their new Dave Coulier inspired logo is finally allowing Michael Jordan fans to show their pride in public without fear of being associated with “Those Hot Rod fans.” And they cheated to beat us in softball.
- We postponed a trip to North Carolina via moped to spend our summer talking to people about how we don’t sell scooters.

So. How about you?
Who’s known for her nocturnal endurance. And ol’ girl’s never tried to milk the shop like cereal.

Jus’ sayin.
Anyhoot, see you pooh butts at Bomb McPromb.
Uh.
We might be a little bit bad at this whole bloggin business. But hey: we’ve been steady ebay focused and manning the fishbowl that is the new storefront for the past few months – and that keeps our idle hands busy. Seriously, we get more stop-and-stares and “How much them cost?”s now than we ever did in Greenpoint, Shmeenpoint. And look how happy that makes lil’ Ryan!

So sorry Cali Brad, Cliff, and the other reader. It could be worse. Or even worser. Or the 77 blog.
Please be respectful of our devout religious beliefs and wait until NOT MONDAY to argue with us over the price of a spark plug. I promise I’ll be there, bright and noony, on Tuesday for all your mopeding needs. Now do pardon as I spend the rest of my Funday Monday praying to Goro and watching all the Michael Winslow scenes from Police Academy (1-4, not Miami Beach, 6, or the Russian one) on Youtube.
We love our Irish brethren almost as much as we love public drunkenness and even publicer shame, so of course we’re going to celebrate this March 17 with style.

For more cultural stereotypes, be sure stick around for Thanksgiving when we go OOWOOWOOWOO and scalp Bradley. FOR YOU, THE PUBLIC. Where’s my Jameson?
Phoenix from the ashes! Check out the newest (and first in a long while) Sign of the Day from your recently transplanted Bushwicker Men:

aaaand

Coming soon, your very own virtual tour of the new neighborhood. Plus our salty salute to Greenpoint, possibly entitled: So Wrong and Thanks for All the Fuck.
We promised shop movement, and by-golly The Orphanage Moped Shop delivered. Introducing Shop 2.0:
3D imagineered by dimensional frontiersman, Bradley Carroll.

OHSHITGORO
So somebody out in San Fran thinks he got big enough britches to whup his old man? In an unprovoked act of blog douchery, 1977 mopeds decided to hand over the reigns of it’s typically snore-worthy blog to future New Yorker, current divorcee, Noel, who promptly developed a unique, not at all recognizable style and slanged the mud at your blog’s truly. Since you apparently didn’t learn the lesson of the last guy, I’ll gladly remind you that summers in Brooklyn can get awfully lonely for those who enjoy shitting where they eat. Awfully lonely, indeed. So get back to mopping up the bondage leavins or sniffing Pat‘s farts or fetching coffee for Papa or whatever you counter-jockeys usually do while the men fix the bikes. Leave the blog bombs for the big dogs. Biters get bit. Free DMX.

Oh, and we just signed the lease for our new space. Yeah, whatever. Fuck you, Noah. OUT.
The stink of a good story cannot evade the iron nose of the perpetually determined newshounds of Public Radio. Evidence: Studio 360 and their compelling Design for the Real World segment hunted me down and engaged me in some deep convo. Prepare yourself for the nasally ramblings of a man willing to sell moped culture up the river for his 15 minutes!
Kewt business, indeed!
In lieu of blogging about how it’s (still) winter and we’re (still) hibernating, here’s the submissions for the Orphanage Mopeds T-shirt Corntest that I, uh, abandoned. Sorry, moped friends. 2010 will see some OrphMerch, I swear to gawd, and you won’t be disappoint.
Thanks to all who threw their names into the hat. The corn has been disposed of.






This one’s got man-squeezers on it. Just be warned; not for those uncomfortable with a womyn’s body.


Thanks again!
Hello abandoned blogeteers! December was a cold, cruel month for the official Orphanage Moped Shop Blog. Why? Because it’s fuckin cold, kids. We’ve been approaching ol’ Jack Frost with enthusiasm, though, so here’s a belated Holiday/New Year update from yours-still-mopedish in Greenpoint:
-Had ourselves a non-secular Holiday party on 12/12 (You missed the 12% discount, didn’t you?) that was quite the yule good time of the winter. Even M23 (rival gang) showed up to wish us a snowy one. Enjoy the festive decor:





-Them things we sell have been flying off the shelves. Tough New Yorkers have been braving the inclement weather to jump on the bandwagon. Atari Warfare Moped from Motion Left and a sleek Black Puch Maxi (that didn’t even make it to the sales floor) now have happy owners. Thanks for paying our rent!
-Someone other than us looks stupid in the press. Finally.
-Taco Bell reopened. We are currently wallowing in Grade D Bean Mix and scalding ourselves with Carmel Apple Empanada viscera. GLEEFULLY.
-The infamous neighborhood Greenpoint Hotel has been sadly de-hoteled. Now it is only a gross tenement building housing sad kid-feelers, no criminally misinformed out-of-town travelers.
-The Cincinnati Bengals won the AFC North and are headed to the playoffs. There shall be no jokes associated with football on this blog, people.
-Our Baton Rougean friend, Winston, came in second in the running for Most Downtrodden Orphan 2009. He’s a one-man bolt stripping army. There exists not a Metrakit he cannot seize. Silver Medal, Winny.
-Al Miller, frequently denimed half-asian from posts of yore, MK2 inside joke arteest, moped rally car target, friend and lover has yet again smashed his blue Puch into an unsuspecting automobile. 1st Place, little Al.
-Tiger Woods.
-Thunderhorse, Chicago captains of video jokery, moved to New York. Come to think of it, I don’t even think those guys even like mopeds anymore. Only coitus. Newsworthy?
-The Fact of the Day thing bombed. We admit our mistakes. Speaking of:
-Check out the soon-to-be-forgotten Orphanage Mopeds ongoing Q&A over at Formspring. Bradley’s doing a good job so far of using Wikipedia to alienate. Expect cryptic musings and NC-17 animated gifs.
-We’re half-heartedly selling stuff on eBay now. Go there, buy online, and complain that we didn’t send you a plastic dinosaur and broken Sheena Easton cassette tape in the box with your parts. Our trust funds have limitations, buyers. Sorry.
That brings us up to now! Only 2 more years until all hell breaks loose, so we’re going hard. Thanks for 2009. See you soon.


When gentlemen in medieval Japan wished to seal an agreement, they urinated together, crisscrossing their streams of urine.
We continue “Fact o’ the Day” here at New York’s most yellowest moped emporium.
Facty:
Before 1850, golf balls were made of leather and were stuffed with feathers.

Sweet wind-breaker, Nathan.