Clare’s story makes me want to rage, but the fact that we’ve got 17-year-old young women like her gives me hope for the future.
(It’s getting a lot of traffic, as well it should, so it’s pretty slow to load at the moment.)
Eleven mentions does not a trending hashtag make. If you’re not going to spread the word, you can all at least contribute a minimum of $250 each, but preferably $1000 or more, so that I can take out a full-page ad in the New York Times.
You had to do ONE THING.
Bye, Buddy. Hope you find your dad.
This is the now-completed Freedom Tower in lower Manhattan. I live just across the river from it. I see it many times per day, and I have an important proposition regarding it.
Let me preface this by saying: I love freedom.
Hey, gym? How long would it take you to redecorate if you hung a dick pic and a single bodybuilder complained?
This is an actual email I had to send to my gym. I don’t want to be driven back into the grasping arms of New York Sports Club or, god forbid, Crunch, but I will if it means I get to lift weights without having to stare at porn.
Also: AAARGH.
This thing that I edited is in an actual printed magazine. You probably don’t have a subscription to the Harvard Business Review so you can’t read the whole thing, but you can trust me: it’s really good, and packed to the very brim with correctly-deployed semicolons.
(via ma.tt)
I even snuck in an em-dash; so there.
New York: The City That Never Shuts the Hell Up
I travel a lot. I get stared at a lot because I am tall, and, oh yeah, fat. I’ve been stared at in a variety of foreign countries on several different continents.
Once, in Vietnam, I attracted an entire class of high school students who lined up to have their photos taken with me one at a time.
What did cake ever do to deserve this? Oh, right, only bring joy, happiness, and chocolate ganache to millions of people every day.
And this is how we repay it. Go to therapy like the rest of us, and leave the cake to people who know how to treat cake right.
This is even worse than that time we left the cake out in the rain.
I’m more of what you’d call an “indoorsy” person, but this list of lovely nature-type things ably showcases the many parts of New Jersey that are not the Turnpike or Newark Airport.
(For what it’s worth, the Turnpike also has its unique charms.)
Women in Tech: A PSA
Finally, a man willing to speak truth to matriarchal power candidly answers the question: why are there fewer older women in tech?
(PSA for the PSA: you might want to make sure you’re not near any breakables before reading. If you’ve recently eaten, please wait at least half an hour.)
And forgive the Bearded Lady, Amen.
Did you know? The patron saint of carneys is also the patron saint of murderers. His name is Saint Julian the Hospitaller, and he once hallucinated that a deer told him he was going to kill his parents. (FYI, he did kill his parents. Don’t worry, though: he was really sorry, and did penance by building a hospital by a river to care for sick travelers. He also “rowed travelers across the river,” which sounds like another famous ferryman, not that I am suggesting anything untoward.)
The carney/murderer thing can’t be a coincidence is all I’m saying, and I thought you should know. I love a goddamn saint.
