When people wake up on the wrong side of bed, bad things happen. Unfortunately, for a group of tourists visiting San Francisco, their sightseeing tour guide (who happens to be incredibly racist) was one of those people. Apparently, it was this woman’s last day on the job, and she just could not hold in her angst anymore, so she used her emcee powers to drop tonsss of f-bombs about everything in Chinatown that pisses her off, from “preschools and your little preschoolers” to “your markets with your turtles and your frogs.” Naturally, she’s also flailing around a bottle of something that I can only assume would burst into flames if a lit match were to come within four-feet of her. Towards the end of the tour, she starts a “Fuck Chinatown” chant, and people actually start clapping and JOIN IN before she ends on an unexpected note, yelling “GO GIANTS!” Some poor German tourist got the whole thing on video and probably went back to her country vowing to never visit America again. Stay classy, San Francisco. [Gawker]
I ask very little of the New York subway system. I want trains to come when they’re supposed to, I want them to not break down while I’m riding them, and I want to feel safe traveling from Point A to Point B. Sometimes we’re shoved up against some sweaty man’s wet armpit because we have no choice but to pack into the 6 train like sardines in a can, and other times we must endure the drunken mumblings and rants of fellow riders— this is all to be expected. Some disgusting humans even pick their noses and clip their nails on the train, which is almost forgivable knowing that those individuals will never be loved. But if there’s one thing I DESPISE, it’s stinking up the train with your food. Please, for the love of God, stop. Keep reading »
My name is Amelia. I am a feminist. I also have a Pinterest account. If a recent lengthy piece on Buzzfeed (wait, Buzzfeed does “lengthy”?) is to be believed, these two things are antithetical. According to Amy Odell, the editor over at Buzzfeed’s lifestyle vertical, Shift, Pinterest is “killing feminism.” So, as a feminist who uses Pinterest, I’m, like, killing some part of myself, I guess?
Odell’s thesis is based on the fact that Pinterest’s 23 million users are overwhelmingly female (60 percent) and that they use it to curate “retrograde, materialistic content,” like “recipes, home decor, and fitness and fashion tips,” which Odell claims are staples of women’s magazines that the Internet was “supposed to help overcome.” Odell also derides the fact that Pinterest users don’t go there to read articles, which I find kind of hilarious coming from someone employed by a website that is dominated by photos and funny captions, her lengthy screed notwithstanding. Odell says websites like Jezebel, Feministing, and The Hairpin are examples of places on the internet where women “can find smarter, meatier reads just for them,” but is clearly disappointed (and even surprised) that their existence hasn’t done away with the female desire to “scrapbook every imaginable physical aspect of their dream lives.”
Call me crazy, but I don’t see what the fucking problem is. Keep reading »
As some of you may have noticed, I’m really rather fat. I mention it only because it’s relevant — it has a significant impact on my life; people treat me differently because I am fat.
Or, in some cases, refuse to treat me. Which is what happened recently to Ida Davidson, who was turned away from her new primary care physician. The stated reason? Ida Davidson weighs too much for the doctor’s office to accommodate her. Keep reading »
Maybe you know one — one of those annoying, neo-folk “folks” who insist on telling you how amazing it is to grow your own food and can your own preserves and make your own clothes and live off the land and blah blah blah. Well now there’s a magazine for that particular brand of self-righteous, self-absorbed, neo-Americana living. It’s called Folk. Of course.
Keep reading »
Dear Woman With The Rolling Suitcase Who Stole My Cab This Morning,
Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t see you roll past me, stop no more than eight feet in front of me, and raise your arm just like mine had been raised for 15 minutes? Did you think I was so involved in my text conversation with my friend Steve — about whether it’s possible/weird to poop with a baby in a Bjorn strapped to your chest — that I wouldn’t see you blatantly invading my taxi territory? I can think of no other explanation for the lack of subtlety you displayed in defying the laws of cab hailing. Keep reading »