Except that’s not what happens? Stalking is defined as the willful and repeated following, watching and/or harassing of another person. Unlike other crimes, which usually involve one act, stalking is a series of actions that occur over a period of time.

send your husband my deepest regards and let him know this phrase is going to go viral.

My husband calls them “Y’all-Qaeda.”

Even if you don’t work for one anymore, you’re awesome. I triply love and support PP staff after finally visiting one last week. In all my years going to doctor’s appointments, I’ve never felt more at ease than last week. So all y’all -current or former- are A++ eggs in my book.

When I worked at PP this was my biggest fear. When you can’t wear your name tag outside of the building, you know you’re in a “scary” place.

My dad, who is partial to women with teeny tiny frames, used to sort of whack my awkward pubescent shoulders and ask “When did you get such broad shoulders?” As if he thought patting them hard enough would magically shrink them down. I felt ashamed that I apparently had a body no man would like.

Personally, I was most scared by the idea of the “Idiot’s Ball”

I wonder if it was even your mom. I had a similar experience when I was in kindergarten and it’s never left my mind. My mom worked crazy shifts when I was little and we lived with my grandma, my dad and my sister. Sometimes my mom or grandma would get me up and ready for school depending on who was available.

I have a very gentle ghost story. I volunteer at the Merchant’s House Museum in the East Village. It’s known as the most haunted house in NYC and weird things happen there all the time. I truly adore the other volunteers and the museum itself—it’s the city’s only original brownstone and has all of the contents of the…

Not mine, but here’s an old family story that comes by way of my late Great-Grandmother, a hardy rural Yugoslavian woman if there ever was one.

My family lived in this house in NJ once. My father thought it looked evil, with Amnityville Horror windows. The backyard faced an empty field and beyond that was an old graveyard from around the time the town was founded in the last 1600s. Really pretty headstones.

Cool story, bro

When Hippiechick was a wee lass of two (ish), and we were living in Austin, my father insisted on taking us out to Blanco to see the Christ of the Hills Monastery with its icon that wept tears of myrrh. It was considered a miracle that drew visitors from all over. The Icon of Our Lady of New Sarov allegedly leaked…

My father was a real prick. He immigrated to America from Hungary after the revolution failed and Russia got a little uhhhhhh shall we say heavy handed in their approach. Because of this he was kinda looked down on as “that weird immigrant kid”, didn’t date, didn’t have a TON of friends, etc. . When I was in high…

Not that this was at a sacred place, but I feel like it still fits.

Out of habit more than anything, my family would put out a miniature Nativity set decorated by my Grandpa. Usually on a side table or the piano. I made my own addition one year, a certain spring-loaded suction cup novelty held back from Halloween. My parents woke up the next morning to see the Holy Ghost bobbing…

I got my butt groped multiple times at the Vatican ON Easter Sunday at mass. I was 14.

I wrote a parody of Passion of the Christ (as a kind of performance art piece) that was so sacrilegious that my friends who performed in it had their kid taken away in a custody dispute when the Catholic judge was shown pics of it. Took years to straighten out. Worst thing I ever accidentally did.

Lol. I danced by my real name - Amber. When clients would hound me for my real name, I'd tell them it was Lisa. My favorite was some sleazy frat boy looking me in the eyes and saying "I don't want to know Amber, I want to know Lisa."

Learning my real name was so important for guys when I worked as a stripper. I was creeped out by it at first, but eventually accepted that it was part of the game. They wanted to feel like they knew you better than the other guys you gave dances too, as though they were somehow more special. So I told any guy who…