You know what's fucked up? Reading this, my first strong reaction was "Kamau, you can't buy something and not get a bag! You know better!!" As a black man, I can't stress how often my parents and older siblings drilled into my head the fact that I could never, ever buy anything without getting a bag and, if possible,…

Heres the thing that I don't understand, how hardwired does racism have to be in your brain for you to not think to look at peoples body language. It's pretty obvious to me when people are talking to someone they don't want to be talking to.

Oh god, I swear I had Coffee Latte's husband the other day. Never in my life have I felt the stupidity ratio in a room rise so rapidly as when this guy opened his mouth.

nah, the most punk rock thing ever was that girl in L7 taking out her tampon and throwing it in the crowd at Reading.

Semi-professional ultimate frisbee player (I wish I was joking). He also wore a backpack all the time filled with some weights to help his "explosiveness"...he was attractive though! He also accused my cats of giving him mono. You read that correctly.

I gotta be honest, I'm kind of embarrassed that you call it a "blowie."

there are WAY better ones on here... but:

I think men should be allowed to spread their legs as wide as they want on the bus as long as women are allowed to change our tampons on the bus and throw the used ones at the most annoying passengers. Because of biology.

Used to work in and manage coffee shops, and I can say from experience that pretty much every customer I ever ran across who ordered a breve latte was unpleasant in some way. There's just something about assholes and that particularly gluttonous drink.

No one in this story came out looking good. No one.

Like I do not understand the entire first paragraph of that story. And I live in Seattle.

No offense, dude, but I would rather have all of my internal organs pulled out with a hook Ancient Egypt-style than spent ten minutes with you in a public space.

I get the fantasy of having sexual relations with an authority figure (for me it was my math teacher, Mr. White, in eighth grade),

No penis cookies? Misandry!

There are too many chip flavors now as it is: