I love them, thanks.

Stuck in stupid traffic in Allston today, I've got my car windows down because my AC is busted and no money in sight to fix it. I'm chilling at a red light when some guy who I didn't even bother to look at screams from his truck into my car, "DO YOU LIKE THOSE BOOBS?!" 1. Uh, yes, they're mine, and lucky for me, I don't hate my body. 2. Why, do you? Cause it doesn't matter, fuckface. 3. There are better ways to engage me. Screaming from your car is never. going. to. work.

Walking on green

I was walking on Friday with a good friend from around the Chinatown/Boylston T stop area to Kenmore. We wanted to walk and talk after dinner downtown so made our way along the T path, above ground, and we would eventually go our separate train lines home from Kenmore. Multiple times, particularly along Boylston street parallel to Newbury, we were accosted. Once, a man with a cup asking for money literally cornered my friend while I scooted out of the way. She got away, but not before having him get in her face and physically block her path. We also ran into a variety of male post-game Sox celebrants who thought that because we didn't move off the sidewalk that they were completely taking over, we were worth all sorts of demeaning names. My favorite was the simple but loud "WHORE!" we got after passing an enormous group of guys who practically bumped us into the busy street. Maybe I should be used to it by now, but I never quite get over how unwelcome men make me feel in my own town.