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During that huge heat wave in early August, I succombed to that bizarre formal shorts fashion trend. I went out in my tweed formal shorts and black pumps. Around 9pm on a Tuesday night, I’m walking east on Astor Pl and a man in an MTA uniform (wearing the ugly uniform shorts) says to me “Hey baby! Who do you think looks better in shorts? Me or you?” At first I just rolled my eyes, and kept walking.
Then I remembered your site, got motivated to shut this fucker up and walked back to him. He greeted me with “oh…well then, you like shorts don’t you?” I noticed the creep had on a ring of sorts and so I said to him. “How about you call your wife with that cell phone sticking out of your pocket and tell her how you feel about my shorts, huh?” He looked all confused and said “What?” I just responded with a “You heard me… And you look terrible in shorts. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.”
He started to mumble something in his defense and I just decided he wasn’t worth my time anymore, so I flipped him off and walked away.
Too bad I forgot to take a picture. His uniform did have some sort of MTA ID number on it after all. But thank you thank you thank you HollaBack NYC for teaching me to defend my body! Maybe my story will inspire some others to do the same.
Submitted by Julie.
Like most unemployed people with art degrees, I have a hobby. This hobby is documenting the dog shit problem in my community: Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I even have a blog about it: www.newyorkshitty.com. Perhaps you have heard of it.
ANYWAY— for reasons you can well imagine, this endeavor requires that I hit the streets (camera and notepad in hand) to follow-up shit tips from readers. And just over a week ago, I did just this. The area in question was Norman Avenue between Guernsey and Banker St. I was not disappointed. In fact, I got a little something extra, which I am sending to you. // <![CDATA[
These four assholes saw fit to stop loading materials onto a\ntruck to wolf-call me. I paused for a moment, pulled out my camera and took a\nphoto of them. Being the crack-journalist that I am, I even made a notation of\nthe address on my notepad: 34\n Norman Avenue. This act worried one of the workers;\nhe peered around the corner as I continued my rounds and yelled something back\nto his cohorts (en Espanol). Maybe one (or all) of them were undocumented,\nmaybe not, who knows?
\nWhat I *do* know is that if I were\nin such a position, I’d keep my mouth (and fly shut)--- ESPECIALLY if a\nbroad carrying a notepad and camera was snooping around my place of employment.\nNot very bright.
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These four assholes saw fit to stop loading materials onto a truck to wolf-call me. I paused for a moment, pulled out my camera and took a photo of them. Being the crack-journalist that I am, I even made a notation of the address on my notepad: 34 Norman Avenue. This act worried one of the workers; he peered around the corner as I continued my rounds and yelled something back to his cohorts (en Espanol).
If I were him, I’d keep my mouth (and fly shut)— ESPECIALLY if a broad carrying a notepad and camera was snooping around my place of employment. Not very bright.
Submitted by Miss H
This morning circa 9:50 am, I rode the 4/5 train to 86th St. Leaving 59th St., I saw a creepy guy in the doorway with his dick hanging all the way out! His bag was pulled to the side & he was looking confidentally casual, not like he was even prepared to adjust his bag quickly should he be caught. He had briefly stood opposite me back at Union Sq. & I wondered if he had it out when he was standing right in front of me!!! I calmly got off at 86th St. & easily reached the conductor. I simply pointed through the window to the next car.
“That man was exposing himself to me.” He looked surprised, pointed to him and said “That man?”
He simply walked over to him between the cars, and the asshole was standing there w/his bag positioned in front of him and not even looking nervous. He probably even still had it out, covering it w/the shoulder bag.
The conductor returns with this look on his face that said: “Well, sorry but I don’t see anything unusual…” And then, Mr. Dickhand ran out of the car because the genius conductor had left the doors open the whole time! I went to chase him, but said: “Wait, can you just call upstairs and tell the token booth person?!” And he says…”Well, he just ran off, and there’s nothing I can do since he’s already left the train…”
I never was able to find the slimy weasel again, but saw an NYPD van parked right there. They took my description and phone no., & asked me if I wanted to press charges if they found him. (Hell yeah!) The cops were actually really nice. The female officer actually said: “I’m sorry this happened to you…” The male officer was more aloof but still seemed vaguely concerned. And then they drove off to look for him! I went back downstairs thinking maybe he was somehow still lurking around the station, instead of running to street level. I told the token booth clerk: “A guy was exposing himself to me on the train…I told the police but thought maybe you want a description?”
She said: “Well did they call it in?”
I looked at her blankly because I didn’t see them make any phone calls. Though they did seem on it.
“Well they’re handling it, something, something, blah..”
It was time to tune out and go to work.
Let me start by saying that I am a native of both Dublin and London. I am used to the leers and hoots of random perverted jackasses from pubs as they glug beer and watch the footie game on the television. But since I moved to New York City in July 2005, at the age of seventeen, I can honestly say I’ve encountered more lewd fuckwits in one thirteen mile long city in one year than you can shake a stick at.
My favourite has to be the asshole who phoned me the other day. I do not have caller ID (but you can be damn sure I’m having it installed ASAP, after this incident). Our conversation goes a bit like this:
*panting and crashing from other end*
Random fuckwit: Hey, sexy.
Me: Who is this?
Random fuckwit: Your stallion. Rawr (I wish I could say I was joking)
Me: Stallions don’t rawr. Who are you, and why are you phoning me?
Random fuckwit: *in ridiculous, downright embarassing attempt of a proper English accent: Are you British, mate?
Me: Yes, *mate*, and I’m about to hang up. Bye now.
Random fuckwit: Do you mind if I jack off?
Me: Be my guest. *slam phone down*
As much as I love being accosted by some asshat on the phone, I think I’d be an idiot if I didn’t share this with the rest of the world. Enjoy, ladies, and keep yourselves safe. And Mr. Fuckwit, wherever you are: get a new hobby.
Submitted by Rory
He walked past as I was entering my building and said slimily, “Hey Gorgeous.” Fuck you. Don’t you think it scares me that you know where I live? Go fuck yourself.
Submitted by Julie
These ladies are armed with more than just cameras.
So it’s lunchtime and I thought I would take advantage of the beautiful day to eat lunch in Union Square Park. I was walking around, looking for a bench when I see a homeless man ahead of me, turning around in circles like he’s confused. I walked by and he definitely turned, xfollowing me awkwardly. I kept moving, figuring he’s just asking people for change, until I heard some disgusting, waste of space yelling “Grab her ass! Grab her ass!” I looked over and there was a huge group of teenagers, guys and girls, apparently ENCOURAGING THE TRANSIENT TO SEXUALLY ASSAULT WOMEN PASSING BY. They saw me looking at them and knew I had heard, which made them all laugh hysterically. Needless to say, my lunch was spoiled and I felt too disgusted to sit anywhere near these people, much less fish through my bag for my camera phone. Now I’m back in my office, eating lunch at my desk. I am so grossed out and furious about the whole thing that I can’t even think straight. The guy didn’t touch me, but I can’t help but think the next girl in a skirt who walked by wasn’t so lucky…
Submitted by Elizabeth
From our friends at New York Hack:
“This was when I really started to get scared as I thought he might be reaching for a gun. I already had the camera out and managed to take a shaky picture, thinking, “Fuck. Okay, I guess this is really it,” but then I saw that, instead of a gun, he pulled out his dick. Unfortunately, my camera didn’t capture it in all its shriveled glory.”
To read the rest of the story, click here.
Two days later, my friend Anna says, “Nice legs,” to which I responded, “Hey, thanks!”
Funny how the same words feel so different.
Submitted by Emily