South by Southwest, the annual music/film/tech/excuse to eat tacos festival, began last week. It’s a great way to see a bunch of bands and network, we suppose, but it’s also an opportunity to make new friends, in exchange for “services.” At least according to one Craigslist poster, who offered perhaps one of the creepier SXSW living arrangements.
So says the ad from user “Daniel,” “This is a simple deal: A free place to stay with many extras in exchange for your services.” Oh, services? What a quaint way of demanding sex! Check out the full add after the jump. Keep reading »
On Thursday night, I had what seemed like a pretty good first date. By Friday lunchtime, any chance of a romance between that guy and I had fallen spectacularly to pieces.
I wrote about what went down in a post called “An Open Letter To The Guy Who Called Me ‘Crazy.’” I’ve been pretty thrilled by its reception, particularly all the messages from women who’ve said they totally relate to what happened with Mean Crazy Bitch Guy. However, something in the comment thread has caught my eye: a (new) commenter penned a lengthy comment insinuating Mean Crazy Bitch Guy was actually the victim in the entire scenario and that he lashed out and called me horrible names because he “[felt] creep shamed.”
“Creep shamed”? I thought. I know that term from somewhere. Where is it …? Oh, right, it’s a “men’s rights activist” term. But I wanted to know more. Keep reading »
Your man’s not giving you what you need? Throw on some way over-sized silk pajamas and get yours. At least, that’s what Chilli, T-Boz, and Left Eye recommend. [YouTube
] Keep reading »
Working out sounds good in theory: tighten up your bod, wear comfy, colorful spandex clothes in public guilt -free, and get your endorphins going. But it’s ads like this one for David Barton Gym that reaffirm my commitment to my flabby physique. It makes working out seem like more of a spectator sport than a personal challenge. The creepy tagline, “I’d pay to see you sweat,” sends a chill up my spine even without some pervy lurker staring at me, breathing harder than me trying to work a Stairmaster. Seriously, this gym sounds like the Creepmaster 2000. The ad makes me want to keep my clothes on, save the membership fees and turn the lights off when I get naked. Problem solved! Gee, who would have thought a gym ad would make me feel a strong sense of body acceptance. [Ad Week] Keep reading »