25 year old girl in NYC.

I'm not sure what it is about me.
The tattoos? Small stature?
Young/innocent/impressionable face?

But for some reason, creepy men think they can TOUCH me as I roam the streets of this city both at night and in broad daylight.

Not just jeering. Not just whistling.
But also touching. Even attempted caressing.

Thus the birth of this blog.


Content will contain:

- Unbelievable, yet true stories of sketchy things men have said/done to me.
- Priceless quotes from aforementioned sketchy men.
- Photos of people being assholes.


Disclaimer to ALL MEN --- if you say or do something ridiculous or creepy, (to me or in my presence) I will publicly shame you by telling everyone I know what you did. And it will not just be my friends. I also tell clients and random strangers, and we laugh at you.


P.S. I also welcome material from the general public.

- Eloquently written short stories of being groped on the subway.
- AWESOME pick up lines that have been used on you in real life.
- And of course PHOTOS of people making dick moves.

I hope to shame the world into minding their manners.
Or at least some people in my borough anyway.

30th August 2010

Post

Dog fucks moose in…doctor’s office?

Here’s a fun creep-tastic journal entry that I came across when I was perusing through my blog that I’ve had FOREVER.   It’s fairly old, but I thought it was worth sharing.

NOTE:  In case anyone is wondering why the heck I would throw personal info out about my mentally unstable history for the general public to see,  It’s already way out there.  I’m pretty heavily involved in mental health activism.  I have no shame.  (At least not regarding this!)

So I had an appointment with my psychiatrist tonight.

Whenever I go there, I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe and check for signs to see if I’m dreaming. You know like…I look at the calender to see if it’s the right date…see if I can read something…pinch myself.

I really believe that everyone in the mental health industry is a bit mentally ill themselves. She’s just so bizarre. Every time I see her, she looks at me like a sleep-walker who just woke up in the middle of a highway. In her office, there are literally fourteen photographs of her dog [a little white shitzu whatever thing]. That is all. No friends, family, children, or lovers. Oh except for this one picture of HERSELF that is facing her on her desk. Just herself in a myspace style photo.

The dog [Shanie] is always there. The fun thing about him is that he likes to pee on random things…and occasionally more than just that. I’ve had to avoid a pile of love here and there.
Today, Shanie was on a roll. Our appointment began with me sitting on the couch and answering some questions. He was spraying a table leg…a desk chair’s wheel…and so forth.

On previous visits, I’ve seen a ratty old torn up stuffed moose lying on the floor. Its fur is rubbed off in places and stained dark with drool.

Or I thought it was drool.

About 5 minutes into the appointment, the dog started to play with the moose. Very quickly, the play turned into mounting.

Me - “Uhhh…your dog is…uhh…”
Dr. - “Oh he’s humping.”

She continues to ask questions as Shanie’s humping gets more intense.
Intense humping with pauses here and there to give himself a little blowjob action and bury his face in the moose’s plush ass.
I try to pay attention to her and not to the masturbating shitzu.
Then he starts making noises. Grunting and panting and slurping.
Intense humping turns faster and ferocious and then into FUCKING THE SHIT OUT OF IT.
Grabs it with his teeth…flips it over into different positions.

For a good while. I was actually impressed with his stamina.

He was still going at it when I left.



This has been the culmination of weird things that have happened there.

Why do I still go to her?

Laziness. I just go there and she gives me drugs. She’s fairly good at that part. It’s just her professional people skills that could use a bit of work.

Well ultimately even that last part wasn’t true.  She was pretty lame overall.  I “fired” her.

Share your stories. 

Mail to aikorulz@gmail.com

Tagged: my personal trauma