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!
Who shot yee? Hint: It’s usually someone you already know, Sir Smalls.
* Speaking of… diminutive and bespectacled shop CEO, Ryan, recently brokered a sleaze dipped deal with the fashion porn up-start, Jacque Quarterly; free prop bike rentals for free shop advertising. Oh yes, and complimentary hard copies too. Bald? Yes, more!
* We’ve been… Thunder Horsed! Video DJs, Alex Gvisvtckkschtch and Taran, of the The Incredible Shrinking Moped Gang are in town shopping for Desert Storm T’s, Pomade-resistant white Levis and… apartments. Let the Great Eastern Migration commence.
* Plus-sized Blog Captain, Nathan, has gone off the grid and onto Cuteness Trail II: I Get Intercourse This Time, Right?. The second run of the Bonny & Clyde style road adventure, but in place of robbering banks, Nathan and his lady will antique shop, argue about the rental’s gas light, and ignore each other’s physical needs. It’s truly Mr. Roadmaster’s last ride.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.
Don’t worry, we don’t really “rumble” on the “web” or consider ourselves a “gang” no matter what a “journalist” may blog. Speaking of which, since we’re perpetually bitter and looking for more “jabs” to launch forth, here’s another rundown batch-o-comments direct from the stink itself:
Top 5 greatest Mehs:
5. Chuck Melihercik says:
you wrote an entire blog with research because somebody at wired said somebody else wasn’t concerned with other people’s opinions? weak.
4. Mike says:
The voice hits another low. Nothing more than a rag of gossip and rants. Piece of crap journalism, Im tired of reading about hipsters. That’s why I don’t go to diehipster.com, don’t bring that trash on here.
3. The same guy also says:
Next time, try writing something with integrity, or your career will go nowhere you joke.
2. Chuck Melihercik, apparently unhappy with his initial observation, says:
You wrote an entire blog withe research and links because some “journalist” at wired claimed the group was unconcerned with appearance? There weren’t even any quotes to that effect. WEAK.
1. GustoMusto says:
I still miss Cindy Crawford’s House of Style.
Thanks for visiting! Please leave us comments themed after what the headline would be if the New York Post did an article about us. Bonus points for using the pseudonym “BAM” or punning “A-Rod.”
The shop has gotten more media luv this summer than a celeb death/ nipple slip combo. One’d think we were selling deep fried vibrating pocket vaginas, dipped in nacho cheese, served on a stick with a side of ranch… by the way these journa-bloggist come around here.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 (our fave) With two more in progress.
Yarn has been spun, pictures popped, puns abused. Moped culture has been blandly described to your Aunt Tina, at a 5th grade level. But what has been the readership reaction?
100% positive!
Top 5 greatest hates:
5. Hipsterminator wrote:
OK. Kill Me!!! Kill Me NOW!!!!
These gay fucks call themselves “The Orphans”.
These gay fucks ride FUCKING MOPEDS!!!! WTF???
These other gay fucks call themselves “HELL’S SATANS”!!!! HOW FUCKING ORIGINAL???!!!
These gay fucks look like Little Orphan Annie could kick their asses and send them running back to Wisconsicolatuckyfuckwad!! OH GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS!!!
4. ParkSlopeIsAYuppieToilet wrote: I ride a 1000cc ADULT bike. I can’t even imagine being a grown man tooling around on one of those inbreds’ put-puts. Fucking embarassing.
3. JN wrote: They ruin everything useful… bikes, mopeds, irony, coffee, alcohol… they take things that can be useful in certain cases, and destroy them, make them ridiculous.
2. Bill wrote:
A Coney Island beat down would be nice.
1. Black Twingle wrote: When someone breaks down ’cause they’re too cool for a fuel filter, you should just shoot them dead and ride on – then use the light of their burning moped to pick a new member from the ravening hordes of prospects that line the route of your triumphant progress. You should be led by James Earl Jones in character as the Snake God from that Conan movie that came out in the 80s.
For the record, we did not destroy coffee, it’s always been hot, disgusting dirt water.
See y’all at The New Yorker comments page in September.
A month or so ago, a smart fella named Bryan came by the shop for too long (3 weeks? C’mon Bryan, get a girlfriend) and took some mahogany-inducing pictures for a photo spread commissioned by Wired.com. Do yourself a favor and go there now to awe, mouth agape, at the marvelousness that is/was the salad days of the Orphanage Moped Shop.
Picture reprinted without permission because my name was misspelled without my damn permission. Also, “Rebels Without a Hog” pants-poopingly retarded.
Someone stole the shop’s Tomos Blue Bullet. Looks like this:
If you see it around town, hurt with extreme prejudice. After this debacle we’ve decided to relocate the shop to Scottsdale and sell decorative soaps. Still not hiring hippies.
Promise you that. I wouldn’t get laid without the wonderjuice. Somebody out there must have smelled it on us, because we got offered our own bar night at the fantastically un-candied Pete’s Candy Store. Fuck yeah, Pete.
Drink specials? BBQ? Friction drives? What else you got going on? Waiting for the inevitable death of a celebrity you forgot was alive? Pft. Be at 709 Lorimer with your party hats. I’m djing nothing but no-wave iron curtain era euro pop and good ol’ fashioned American white power standards.
Yep. That’s my only contribution to the first wave of tasteless MJ death jokes. Our first and last, to be exact. Since we’re well aware of the incoming deluge of crying Europeans and animated Thriller-zombie heartattack gifs, I’m confident that the blog’s planning on letting sleeping King of Pops lie. Save a spot for me in the seventh level of hell (for the Space Jam song, not the kid-fingering) and I’ll promise to only karaoke the chorus of Somebody’s Watching Me in remembrance.
This will be fun if you’re in the Richmond, VA area. Say hi to Avail for me. Then get back to washing the dishes and jousting on your tallbike.
More press about the shop! This time surprisingly well-written and not prefaced by some weird meta editorial convo. Good job Greenpoint Gazette! You’re totally the NYT of free local papers people peruse when they’re waiting for their bodega sandwich. Mayo and mustard?
How shits been with you? Miss us? I took a small sabbatical from the blog to do the Master Cleanse and blast out the miles of misuse I’ve been subjecting my body to over the years. Have you ever rocketed salt water out of your asshole? Doesn’t really lend to bloggin’ cleverness and posting funny pictures of fat people doing fat people things. But I digress…
So.
In summation, here is what you have missed:
-We got some press from Streetcarnage. You might know them as the Irish who launched that magazine everyone pretends to hate + the familiar looking black indie-rock guy who isn’t in TV on the Radio. We love their site and have a sense of humor. Promise.
-Bomb Prom happened and people did a lot of drugs. At some point we’ll stop pretending we actually go to these rallies to ride mopeds.
-We’re selling a shitload of project bikes to get more speedchairs on the road. Come by and get one before we give up and start riding fixed gears and such.
-40 days and 40 nights. God is angered due to gay people being in love and general lack of misogyny in the modern world. The bible says dominion.
-Bradley blogged about me intercoursing. Apparently my sex life is noteworthy. Also, sorry about all the pron. He’s been fired from the blog.
-The neighborhood threw a fake parade for Rachel from friends. There was much rejoicing at the Greenpoint Hotel.
-The TV has finally been set up in shop. A Mortal Kombat tournament was promptly launched. Kitana is a cheap bitch. Watch your sack.
-Health Inspector paid us an untimely visit due to a complaint of “moped fumes.” Sadly, our keen-nosed neighbor neglected to define what moped fumes were. My guess is that they smell like trust funds.
-We’re up to our fedoras in repairs. Like I can hardly breathe with all the carb cleaner being sprayed.
-I got doored on my bicycle coming to the shop this afternoon. My shoulder fucking hurts. And somebody stole Liz’s bike seat. Bad luck for slowchairs.
That’s about it. There’s a super rad Peugeot TSM at the shop right now taking up space, too. Come sit on it. Kid’s tickets just five bucks!
Pose-orphan Nathan is too busy with sad work and ignoring last-minute Bomb Prom planning to fingert with y’all today.
In other news, an underpants model payed us $300 to squat on our broken Maxi Sport for a few hours.
$5 to sniff the seat. No cuts, no backsies.
Shop owner and hero to all, Ryan, has given me the go ahead to get the ball rolling on our first official Orphanage Moped Shop t-shirt. Exciting, right?
The best part? You get to design it!
We’re too busy here undermining our friends and providing an alternative means of transportation to the masses to spend money invest the time and effort needed to design a t-shirt worthy of New York City’s only moped shop.
But what’s in it for you, you selfish, uncaring bottom-feeder? CREDIT. NOTORIETY. YOUR NAME ON THE BLOG AND THE INEVITABLE RIDICULE THAT SHALL FOLLOW.
Oh, and a free t-shirt – paid for in full by the shop’s part-time lover Daniel J.
And corn. I will mail you corn. It is a corntest, right?
SO. Email your submissions to me. I’m all ears. And I have a corn cob dick. Get it?
Nathan@orphanagemopeds.com
Re: Orphanage Moped Shop T-shirt Corntest!
GET TO IT.
Patty Creature, one of our budz at 1977 Mopeds sent me this sweet shirt. Thanks guy! If anyone else out there deems it necessary to mail us clothing, feel free. I promise to blog about it before I do something weird in it, shaming you and me forever, spectacularly ruining our friendship and somehow making my parents even more disappointed!
GO buy your own today before they aren’t cool anymore.
An honest-to-goodness link to where you can buy the shirt. No, really. Seriously.
Mail Swag to:
Society for Hiding Unfortunate Looking Children
c/o Orphanage Moped Shop
1138 Manhattan Ave
Brooklyn, NY 11222
WHEW. After a busy long-weekend full of hosting visitors, stocking new products, dumping an 8-ball of dirt out of a moped, Lauren giving herself another vagina, and people from Seattle perpetuating stereotypes we’re back to business as usual here at the Orphanage Moped Shop.
Selling out the scene on daddy’s dime! TAKE THAT, DAD!
Remember the other day and that v5 website promise I stole from Simon (aka, the gerbil constantly running on the wheel to keep the Michigan Moped Mafia the Moped Army powered)? Wellsir, we’ve whipped up something special and have completed an entire website based around the success of the blog! GO there now and never come back!
Ya’ll,
Cruel Nathan is moped babysitting in Soho for a hunert dollars cash from the menswear enthusiasts responsible for this:
Very little shame, if any.
They also screen sleeveless rally hoodies. Don’t tell Albo. And Alan, if you do find out, don’t tell Jesse Jamz.
Hearts,
Bradley
Of Montrewho? Gym Class Whoroes? VHS or Bewho? That’s Miley Cyrus’s brother. And his band. Sitting on our bikes. And paying us for it.
All done without Nigel sitting in our shop with his shirt off. We’re taking bows over here.
