I’ve decided to stop using Instagram. It only just occurred to me that maybe I don’t want people to see where I am and who I’m with at that exact moment. There are lots of other things you can use Instagram for, of course, and I can always take those photos and ‘gram ‘em later, but that loses the whole “Insta” part of it.
Why am I giving it up? I’ve gone through my feed and I see some friends and acquaintances who are not only taking a photo of where they are but have also “checked in,” and described their exact place within that location (like, “Partying at [cool club here] in the back room, like rockstars!”) One day I thought, “Wow, this has the potential to be really dangerous.” Then I thought about how when I’ve gone on vacation I’ve posted my vacation pics on Instagram, too. It’s almost like I’m saying, “I’m not home right now, I am clearly across the country at the moment, feel free to rob my apartment and steal my car.” Keep reading »
Meet Angel Barta: she’s a pretty young Hungarian woman living in Paris who writes a blog called Style Angelique. This is the introductory paragraph of her blog:
I am Angel Barta, writer and fashion designer. Marc Jacobs has been stalking me and using my ideas without my permission for 5 years.
Say what now?
Keep reading »
There’s nothing ladies find more hilarious than being creepily stalked by a dude with crazy penmanship, am I right? At least, that’s what New York-based media site Gawker might have you believe, based on their post over the weekend about “Joe,” a guy who lives Queens who is hilariously stalking a woman named Kelly. Joe has been posting up handwritten notes around Kelly’s Jamaica, Queens, neighborhood. And here’s the really fun part: He’s apparently been going to Kelly’s last known address, and leaving notes that read: Keep reading »
A few years ago, I posted a roommate request on Craigslist. I received a handful of responses, and after weeding out the crazies, I invited a few people to come see the apartment. One afternoon, a girl I had contacted stopped by with her boyfriend. She seemed nice, respectful and she really liked the place. I remember her boyfriend walked around the whole time with a look of delight on his face, as if to say, “Wow, you could actually live here!” Shortly after meeting them, I told the girl she could have the place. This is how Tam and Fred* came into my life.
At first things went really well. Tam was a very sweet person and a considerate roommate. Fred spent a lot of time at our apartment, but he was so friendly I didn’t mind his presence. He would go out of his way to talk to me when he was over and to see how I was doing. If Tam was busy, he would watch TV with me and talk. During these conversations, I learned something important about Fred: he was an idiot. Keep reading »