Just call her She-Hulk: a 24-year-old redhead went Marvel Comics on a subway perv who exposed himself to her while riding the Boston T. The anonymous woman said she was listening to music on a crowded B-line when she saw a man hovering over her, exposing himself. She started screaming for help, she told the Boston Herald, but none of the other passengers came to her aid. In fact, one male passenger shrugged, she said. So “She-Hulk” came out: as the perv tried to run away at one stop, she grabbed his sweatshirt and “berated” him as she called the cops — even while the guy was struggling to get away. The 37-year-old perv, Michael Galvin, has been charged with open and gross lewdness. The woman (who, like most superheroes, prefers to hide under a cloak of anonymity to protect her privacy) said she’d just had enough. “I’ve had enough of being harassed on the street. I’m tired of it and I want it to end. It was the last straw,” she said. “He kept saying sorry, but he was just sorry for himself.” Respect, sister. [Boston Herald]
Talk about sexual harassment in the workplace: Bartenders at a pub in the UK say someone in their bar is indiscriminately pinching their butts. But it’s not a patron whose getting grabby … it’s a ghost. Both male and female staff at The Queens Arms in Birmingham report feeling “a very firm pinch” which happens “day and night.” They assume it’s from a “small, bald, smartly-dressed” phantom who haunts the 170-year-old pub, moving chairs, singing and causing mysterious puffs of smoke. Explained the manager, in adorable British parlance, “You turn round, but there’s no one there. It’s most off-putting.” Most off-putting, indeed! And wily, too. At least if a drunken patron was getting fresh there would be some sort of physical entity to slap. [Daily Mail UK]
Dear Man Who Propositioned Me For Sex On The Subway,
Why is it that after I respectfully responded “no, thanks” to your subway sex proposition, you found it necessary to call me a “bitch”? Have you not seen the movie “Shame”? Even an exceptionally fantastic looking guy like Michael Fassbender (who, might I add, was playing a sex addict) found it difficult to come on to a girl while riding the train because he feared rejection.
But you sir, wearing that hideous shirt, those skinny jeans which were obviously washed one time too many because they revealed your ankles, a pair of busted Converse, with a chip-toothed, yellow grin, thought that your offer to leave the train with you on 23rd street “to hang out at your house” should have been received with excitement. Keep reading »