Holler Season Is Here! Which means: you get to be racist now! Wait, what? No, really! "Raging feminist" Kimberly Klinger, a white Washington D.C. resident who chronicled her every catcall for an entire year (whoa! dumb book deal alert!) for a piece in this week's Washington City Paper, says so!

I consider myself noncrazy. So I'm extra-embarrassed that I "hate" the immigrants in my neighborhood. (The neighborhood I'm gentrifying—but, hey, that's another issue.)
Right, back to the important part: how to fight back. Kim suggests loud mock kissy sounds and copious bird-flipping and we kind of think she needs to get laid because hollers not only provide a useful if superficial sense of assuagement of the gentrification guilt we felt in the first place, they occasionally yield such gems as: "Someone call Tyra, there goes America's next top model!" (Target: Jennie. Funnier because: Catholic school uniforms.)
Which is to say, it's what, at most five seconds of discomfort for a lifetime of funny stories? We have fucked dudes to achieve the same result! After the jump, our faves.
  • "Why you walkin so fast? We don't hurt white people in this neighborhood!" Harlem.
  • "Hey mami!" Brooklyn, by a seven year old, which is why it comes to mind. More creepy than funny, perhaps, but still.
  • Man: "Hey light skin!" Man's friend: "She ain't light skinned, she's white!"
  • "Oooh I wanna knock you up so bad, baby..." Philly.
  • White homeless man in Philadelphia to black girl: "I want to eat your chocolate insides, you want my white chocolate?"
  • "I WANT TO SMELL YOUR PANTIES."
  • "Is your hair real?"
  • "Uhhhh....uhhhhh...oh yeah." Midtown. (Anna: "The thing that was uncomfortable about this one was that in the space of two or three seconds it really took you into the experience of what it would be like to fuck him. Which was kind of gross."
  • "You look like Scarlett Johansson." (Very, very false in this case.)
  • And, that's right, we want to hear yours!

Diary of a Catcall Hater [Washington City Paper]