Appalachian Ohio, Athens GA, Atlanta, Berkeley, Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Columbia MO, Des Moines, Durham & Chapel Hill, Fredericksburgh VA, Houston, Los Angeles, Muncie IN, New York City, NYU, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Richmond VA, San Francisco, Tucson, Twin Cities
I was on a first date. We went to a hip Asian fusion
restaurant. After lots of conversation and stuffing
ourselves with yummy spicy food, we went to leave. I
saw a man behind us chatting on his cell phone,
presumably stepping outside so as not to bother his
companions with his personal conversation, but I was
wrong. Just as The Date and I opened to door to leave,
the man asked the person he was on the phone with to
hold on and said “Excuse me” to get our attention. We
turned around and the conversation went a little
something like this:
Man: Hi. Are you all with each other?
Me: Um, what do you mean?
Man: Like, are you all…together?
Me: Do you mean together with a capital T?
Me: Well…we are on a date. Why do you ask?
Man: Oh. Well, I was going to ask if I could stare at
your breasts. [FOLKS, I AM NOT FUCKING KIDDING HERE.
THIS IS VERBATIM FROM DUDE'S MOUTH.]
Me: [covering my cleavage with my hands] Well, you
wouldn’t have been able to anyway.
Dude literally chased me out of the restaurant to ask
if we were together. And then proceeded to admit that
he wanted to ogle my tits! Mister Man felt the need to
inform me that he had plans to eye my rack.
Well, sir, I have something to say to you:
I hadnt stolen a parking spot
hadn’t voiced more than a
“damn”, “traffic”, “san francisco”, “I should have known better”
I had wanted to have ice cream,
to park my damn car,
to have a fun night
Yeah you, CUNT.
CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT
he yelled it from his expensive car
like it was a recorded message.
I wore a sweater and jeans,
a sweater and jeans.
I look at him in awe, then, in a beg to stop
then as a “Why?” a kind, gentle “why”
that night, I was his victim
someone to make feel like nothing when he had no idea
I already did
San Fransisco, CA
Um, ew. “Can I take your picture instead?”
today while sitting beside the arch in washington square park, i happened upon this individual, who apparently had a lot to offer…
this included plenty of money, weeds (specifically in the blunt form), and the desire to lick me…or more accurately “to lick me thru without chemicals”…he was emphatic about this oral form of intimacy…proposing said “tongue bath” in a bakers dozen of scenarios…i should add that he was also no scrooge when it comes to the compliments…apparently i am fucking beautiful/sexy…in addition to the aforementioned, lickable…
that said, i am relatively certain that i would not be the sole muse for these attentions…so if any of this sounds particularly appealing (how could it not?) I suggest making your way down to good old nyu town… and waiting for the moola, cannabis, and saliva sesh to commence.
This is a photo of the building across the street from my office that has been under construction for the past year. The men working there love to whistle, clap, and holler and it just reinforces the negative stereotype of construction workers. Sometimes it’s almost funny, but really it’s not at all. Considering this monster looms over the office parking lot, it’s pretty difficult to avoid. I’m always self-conscious when I’m within their view; I feel like I’m on display. I’m the most uncomfortable when it’s early in the morning and I’m walking back from yoga. Luckily, they’re negativity can’t penetrate the peaceful bubble I just spent the previous hour and a half developing. Nonetheless, I felt it was time to holla back!
From Maggie (in Toronto):
My ex is a photographer. I was coaching the talent for him: getting them to relax in front of the camera, stand up strait, breathe etc. While my ex was taking a shot of an up and coming sports news anchor for a national Sportsnet billboard he turned to her and said, “Come on, show me the girls.” I almost kicked him in the groin for every woman who’s ever made it big on her big brains not bazoombas.
This is another patron at Vintage on his way out. “Oh no Sir, no, um you aren’t allowed to pee at the bar” are words I never knew I would have to say. I turned to get a drink for this customer and when I turned back, his penis was out of his pants and he was attempting to straight shoot with his urine into the trash can behind the bar. The manager said it is very hard for guys to stop the stream once they’ve begun. So it was very impressive how quickly this streamliner got his pee pee back into his pants and got escorted onto 9th avenue He marked his territory and he’s out roaming around. Carefull you could be in his stream. And this pisser proves when you gotta go you gots to go.
“I am not a lesbian! Why are gay people always trying to befriend me. Get away from me”, and then she attempted to physically assault him, at which point she was removed from the bar and began harassing people on the street. She will harass you so be careful.
It was 2 a.m. and I was fast asleep on the Greyhound, en route to a wedding in Canada. I woke up to someone rubbing my right side and the side of my breast. It was pitch black and I could only barely see the outline of a man’s hand reaching between the seats. I thought it must be a mistake – maybe he was doing it in his sleep – so I put my red jacket on top of his hand and slid closer to the window. He didn’t skip a beat and started burrowing his way through the jacket back to me. I freaked out, sat up straight, and threw the seat into the upright position as quickly as I could, slamming his hand hard between the seats.
After he got off the bus I stuck one of our new stickers on the seat in front of me (pictured). Keep your hands to yourself next time dude, cause THIS GIRL HOLLA’S BACK!