Walking The Plank

Here’s some of what all your stimulus money is going toward:

Newly rebuilt chunks of the famed Coney Island Boardwalk are already starting to fall apart, advocates said.

On the stretch of the Boardwalk fronting Coney’s amusement area, where the Parks Department finished installing new planks last spring, there are now screws popping out of their holes and planks coming loose and protruding.

“It’s not even a year old, and we’re right back to square one,” said Todd Dobrin, chairperson of Friends of the Boardwalk.

The new planks are part of a $30 million project to rebuild 15 blocks of the fabled 42-block stretch.

Location Scout: Coney Island Beach & Boardwalk.

Now You Tell Us?

31 years later the thing is there, and folks are puzzling over exactly what to sue for, though that is a nice way to close a huge budget deficit:

[Lower Manhattan’s Verizon] building is actually one-third larger than allowed, a city agency claims — but no one noticed for 31 years.

The city’s Educational Construction Fund filed a suit alleging it sold Verizon construction rights for a 771,003-square-foot building in 1972.

. . .

The fund is suing Verizon and the developers for fraud, breach of contract and unjust enrichment, seeking $53 million plus interest and a court declaration that the proposed renovation would be illegal.

Sounds Cool Now, But Let’s Talk Again Around Epiphany

Maybe you love your own child’s heartwarming refrains, but remember that it’s only December 10:

Sunset Park students are serenading Fifth Ave. pedestrians with holiday songs recorded at their schools and piped over the street on lamppost-mounted speakers.

. . .

The Sunset Park Business Improvement District recorded student musical groups’ holiday songs at seven local schools over two months, collecting about 50 songs that reflect the diverse neighborhood with songs in English, Spanish and Mandarin.

The results will play on the Fifth Ave. shopping district between 38th and 64th Sts. from 1 p.m. to 7 p.m. until Jan. 10.

Location Scout: 5th Avenue in Sunset Park.

There’s “Extended Adolescence,” “Adultescence,” “Emerging Adulthood,” That Execrable “Grup” Tag New York Magazine Tried To Use And Something Called The “Odyssey Years,” Which David Brooks Probably Came Up With While He Was Sitting On The Dunny

A variation on the David Wooderson character in Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused — “That’s what I love about these high school teachers, man . . . I get older, they stay the same age”:

The Brooklyn high school janitor who caught two female language teachers in a state of conjugating bliss first thought the hot and heavy pair were students — and that’s why he alerted school officials, sources told The Post yesterday.

Earlier: “Language teachers . . . caught by janitor having naked romp in HS classroom”.

175 Square Feet, Adjustable Pantry/Armoire, Pets OK

First there was the 250-square-foot studio and baby nest. Then we had the 175-square-foot apartment, which was a bizarre enough story when it first appeared, but got even stranger now that it is occupied by two human beings and two cats:

Zaarath and Christopher Prokop — and their two cats — live in the smallest apartment in the city, a 175-square-foot “microstudio” in Morningside Heights the couple bought three months ago for $150,000.

At 14.9 feet long and 10 feet wide, it’s about as narrow as a subway car and as claustrophobic as a jail cell. But to the Prokops, it’s a castle.

. . .

The couple wakes up every morning in their queen-size bed, which takes up one-third of the living space.

They then walk five feet toward the tiny kitchen, where they pull out their workout clothes, which are folded neatly in two cabinets above the sink. A third cabinet holds several containers of espresso for their only kitchen appliance, a cappuccino maker.

They turn off their hotplate, and use the space on the counter as a feeding area for their cats, Esmeralda and Beauregard.

“We don’t cook,” Zaarath said, adding that their fridge never has any food in it. “So when you don’t cook, you don’t need plates or pots or pans. So we use that space for our clothes.”

Once in their running attire, the two change the cat litter box (stored under the sink) and start their small Rumba vacuum — which operates automatically while they’re out, picking up cat hair.

They then jog to their jobs in Midtown, picking up along the way their work clothes, which are “strategically stashed at various dry cleaners.”