Like yah, can I like have, like, food stamps?

This Megan – an admitted child of an upper class family who now of course made the voyage to zany and quirky North Brooklyn – applied for food stamps and got rejected. She basically wanted our tax dollars to pay for her Mast Bros chocolate bars, free range Lower Middle West Bushwick saffron infused rabbit meat, $8.00 hand-crafted pickles, cruelty-free water, and freshly Converse-stomped Williamsburg grape juice. Now at the same time, I believe there are thousands of other wastes of life that are unjustly receiving food stamps in this city while never looking for work, abusing drugs, etc. But that’s for another type of blog. I have no doubts that this Megan (who applied for food stamps yet owns an iPhone) can dial up Mummsy and Daddsy for any amount of money she needs but this was her chance to broadcast her urban food stamp application and rejection for a typical hipster LOOOOOOK AT MEEEEE moment. In the comments section of that article, all the comments are about defending her weight and the burden of student loans. I could give two shits about her weight. What drives me nuts is that UNIQUE short bangs, thick framed glasses, granny dress hipster look and knowing she is nowhere near needing to be on public assistance. Instead of taking any 9-5 job, she insists on slumming it in her hipster playground hoping to be a famous writer. How many fucking talentless nobody freelancers can this city withstand?

Link: – I got rejected from food stamps!

179 thoughts on “Like yah, can I like have, like, food stamps?

  1. Read her blog,she is out doing something “coool” every night of the week,especially eating good.She is constantly at restaurants and bars…what a cunthole

  2. Fuck her (if you dare) ! But how will the poor thing be able to pay for her locally hand crafted artisinal Empire brand mayonnaise at $6 to $8 a jar on Vanderbilt Avenue (see today’s Daily News) without public assistance ? Should she defile herself with Hellman’s or , dog help her, Miracle Whip? Besides, Empire’s handsome hipster devil entrepreneur looks like he might curate a little bit of himself into each and every jar. Would you deny a girl this simple pleasure? Would she not give you her bacon cupcakes with creme filling infused with her own breast milk? Have a heart people !

  3. I made $7 an hour in my first “gig” right out of college – reporter and photographer for a weekly newspaper, wrote 25-30 stories each week and chased firetrucks and ambulances to go take wreck photos. 60 hours a week, one day off. Standing in the rain, interviewing farmers. Ate ramen, deferred my loans (but paid the freakin’ interest). I left my hometown for this job but not on some “creative” quest – I wanted job experience as a writer! Writing about real people and issues that affected that community. Not some “down and out” self-inflicted poverty trip. It was the only “real” way to gain experience. Now 15+ years later, after numerous jobs in cubicle hell, I have the experience and skill that finally landed me a corporate copywriting gig that pays real well. Now this drip complains while writing for a half-ass blog, in a style that is so pretentious and about worthless subjects. Hate to pull the Gen X thing, but I went into the job market during another damn recession in the early 90′s and didn’t bitch this much. Get a fucking life already!

  4. I don’t know if any of you guys ever watched the UK TV series “Spaced”, but all but one episode of the series are favorites with hipsters. That one episode features our main character, Daisy, being told that she either gets a job or she gets cut off the dole. After getting fired from several, and going out of her way to be fired (such as directly telling customers at a bar “Fuck you”), she’s given one last chance by working in the kitchen at a restaurant. She rebels, not because the kitchen manager is an insane control freak, but because she doesn’t feel that she belongs there. “I’m creative. I have things to say. I’m being cooped up here, and I don’t deserve it.”

    The punchline, and the reasons why so many hipsters hate that episode, is that the manager demonstrates to Daisy that everybody there is “creative. One guy has several books out. Another is working on a screenplay. The crazy guy in the dishroom has a new collection of poetry coming out. Daisy’s big plan at revolution falls apart when she learns that everyone else is just like her, but they buck down and get the work done, and then go home and create.

    With Canklestein here, I want to ask her if she’s seen this episode. Probably not, and she probably gets butthurt over “Nathan Barley”, too.

  5. Let this bitch sell her body on Pennsylvania Ave. instead of mooching off the government. It’s the perfect job for her – no brain needed and walking the street will burn off all that fat. She will quickly learn the value of a dollar.

    • Won’t work. Obama has better taste in women than Clinton.

      • Pennsylvania Ave. in Brooklyn is a well-known spot for ghetto prostitutes to congregate. The perfect destination for this greedy whore to get to know a whole other side of Brooklyn.

  6. Ummmmmmm……check it out you shithead mooch bitch….if you can’t afford to live in NYC….

    MOVE!!! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HEREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Why leech of the state? You moved here to be a grub and collect food stamps??? Waitress like every other struggling artist or writer did for the past century!

    Everyone basically nailed it spot on, but I just wanted to add that LOL

  7. This is what all those flyover transplant “creative types” fear the most: REALITY. So far they’ve been able to afford the 6-figure private liberal arts college tuition with student loans, $3000 rent for a closet in the most expensive city, $300 vintage granny dresses, artisinal pickles, kickball tournaments, toxic quriky arty rooftop parties with craft beers, Macbook Pros, iPhones and $30 scrambled eggs because SOMEONE ELSE WAS PAYING FOR IT. i.e. their parents. All that vile Masturbation Bros. chocolate wasn’t so expensive when mom and dad were sending the monthly allowance checks, was it?

    Now it’s her turn for the rude awakening. This is the oh-shit moment. This is when all the blogging about crying in the streets starts. The “you’re not a ‘New Yorker’ until you’ve cried in the street and didn’t care if anyone sees you” type of shit. I hope this happens to more and more of them.

    That fridge is way fuller than mine ever is. 2 dozen eggs? Artisinal pickles and cheeses? “Local” honey? I’ll bet that rooftop local honey cost about $20 at the Smorgasburg, or the Fakelyn Grange in Queens. Megan, PLEASE, go back to your upper middle class parents. You’re the people who’ve done the damage here with your smug gentrification, and now YOU want public assistance? HELL NO. GTFOH.

    BTW, there are soup kitchens around if she’s that hungry. But they’re probably not artisinal enough for her, and she’d have to mingle with people who are really hungry and really homeless. You know, the people who aren’t wearing the $300 overpriced vintage granny dresses and yapping away on iPhones about their $30 scrambled eggs at Egg. Oh the HORROR!

    Back to Cul-De-Sac-Ville in 3…2…1…

    • I wonder if she’s whining because daddy lost his job at the meatpacking plant and mommy wasn’t able to hack it as a stockbroker in Iowa, so the checks stopped. Oh wait, that’s Occupy. I know – Occupt the Welfare Office! Gotta post that quick…

    • I looked at that broad’s fridge and laughed. I’m living on a fraction of what I was used to since I’ve left the service and went back to school for a career change. She needs to do what I do in order save money on food: Shop at Aldi’s!

  8. You may want to go back and read those comments. Out of 550 or so comments, about 425 of them are crucifying her for being a pain in the ass spoiled brat who doesn’t “deserve” shit. And rightfully so.

  9. Looks like Dr. Tina from Bachelor Party.

  10. Butthurt Entitlement Overload.

  11. I made three comments and they were all deleted in less than five minutes afterwords…

    all I alluded to was that she should try finding another job to supplement her lollygagging…

    this was cryptonite.

    • I saw that. That means the previous posts which either criticized her or tore her a new one, are getting to her.

  12. Another fucking leech trying to suck the public tit. Get a real job.

  13. These hipsters can’t seem to get enough… now they’re invading the church! WHY?!!!

    “…One of the most common types of Christian hipsters, the Artistic Searcher is the person whose deep spirituality manifests itself in the dark room and on GarageBand. They are poets, painters, writers, musicians, designers and creators who see themselves as image bearers of the Creator and thus charged with the task of incarnationally concocting and enjoying culture.”

    This is just… really.. I can’t even… x_____X

    • This is full of shit if you ask me. Christianity is Christianity form of fashion is not included, or any of that Bullshit theyre talking about. Next thing you know it they want to make a Hipster Islam culture.

  14. (I just posted the following on her page. Let’s see how long this stays up for)

    I don’t understand this. Carrie Bradshaw came to New York City, writes a weekly column for a magazine and lives in a rent-controlled apartment on the Upper East Side. Why can’t you do the same. If Carrie can do it, you can do it too. Don’t give up hope honey.

    Carrie writes about the most important things in her life, like men, men and men. You also write about men, men and men so you should be rolling in dough by now. How many pairs of Manolos have you bought in the last week? You must be doing something wrong if you’re not.

    Here’s a suggestion, make a list of all the fruits and vegetables you stuck in your twat in the last week. You know, the ones you need the food stamps for. I know the list must be long but write it all down and publish it in an article. Girls everywhere will read it and follow your advice, xoJane will make millions and you’ll get a promotion. Hell, you’ll even be able to eat organic breast-milk cupcakes again.

    Hang in there honey. Don’t give up. Mister Big is just waiting for you down in Wall Street somewhere. If you give up now, you’ll never find him and you’ll end up married to the Mast Brothers instead. Don’t let that happen.

  15. If she is only paying 600 a month in rent she must be living in a gross apartment with about 6 roommates. This chick is a pompous, arrogant twit. Go home to your parents house in Connecticut or Vermont or wherever.

  16. Without exaggeration, she could unquestionably survive off her own body fat for well over a month. Tap water’s still free most places, isn’t it?

  17. Here’s a list of just some of the other articles on that site. Gee, I wonder how she doesn’t have any saleable skills with such profound writing.

    I Lie to My Gynecologist
    Your Help Needed: How Do I Make Friends and Learn to Be a Good Friend as an Adult?
    The Body Mass Index is Pointless Unscientific Garbage
    It Happened To Me: I Dated a Republican (But That’s Not Why We Broke Up)
    It Happened to Me: I Gave Happy Endings
    I’m Up In Your Instagram, Ruinin’ It
    Most Guys Really Like Their Girlfriends
    It Happened To Me: I Was Gay-Bashed In a Brothel
    7 Months Til My Wedding: Suck My (Vera) Wang
    FIND IT FRIDAY: “The Glamourpuss Version of Pants and Flats” For Our Resident New Mom
    DRINKING AT THE OFFICE: Pharrell Williams Edition!
    I Got Busted at Work for Writing About Sex on the Internet
    ASK A GYNECOLOGIST: “Should I Put This In My Vagina?”

  18. i need not run into this broad in bk… seriously.

  19. Best comment there:
    “The fact that you can even admit in public that you shop (or did until recently) at Trader Joe’s and had organic ketchup and not even hear how ridiculous you sound speaks volumes about how tone deaf and entitlement-minded you are. It was stunning to sit here and read it and realize this was not a satire piece.”


    Couldn’t have said it better myself.

    Get a kick out of all the Mast Bros-bashing here. It’s only a matter of time before Googling their name will draw traffic to the haterade on this site instead of to those pseudo-Pennsylvania Dutch douches…

  20. Sent her a message under the title ”LOVE YOUR BLOG”

    Not at all. I just knew an attention starved hipster cunt like you would gravitate immediately toward a title like that.

    I saw your pathetic, rage inducing whinge about how you were rejected for food stamps. You seriously deserve a savage beating for that.

    Maybe you’d have enough money if you didn’t spend your money on granny dresses and other ”quirky” items from Urban Outfitters, Forever 21 and American Apparel.
    Maybe you’d have enough money if you didn’t spend your money going to shitty indie rock shows.
    Maybe you’d have enough money if you chose a college course that actually had a fucking point to it.
    Maybe you’d have enough money if you stopped writing self-absorbed ”blogs” about how much you love how fat you are and went out and got an actual job.

    Fuck you and your ilk. Seriously.”

    • Seriously. She probably thinks she “made it” because of the thousands of people now shitting on her.

  21. Hey you guys, don’t be so hard on her. Look how starving she really is with her Jabba The Hut fashion line.

    I wrote an article for xoJane. Actually, I write a lot of things besides Broadist. ALL WRITING GIGS WELCOME. Please & thank you.

    Editor’s note: In the article I wrote for xoJane, there have been a lot of comments questioning the integrity of, well, everything.

    For the same reason the anon ask box feature isn’t enabled here, I am not going to get too deep into comments. But, I will mention the cliff notes big point of the article about the “obligation to justify.” No one but myself and maybe a few close friends/family know how or when I’ve accumulated the clothes and makeup and social life and whatever it is that you see on Broadist. How I acquired the last 10 years of wardrobe isn’t exactly public knowledge. Yeah, I can write about having a shirt – but odds are I got that shirt in a specific context. Like, I traded it at a thrift store. Or I swapped it with a friend. Or I purchased it on sale. Or I bought it full price a long time ago. Also, my social life is mostly free because of my line of work.

    Broadist isn’t always about these details. It never was and I don’t imagine it will be. If anything it’s a space for me to share stories and tips and cool broads and talk about body issues and flex my personal narrative muscles on a daily basis. I wrote long before this blog existed and I’ll continue to write long after.


    • I just went to that link and looked at the photos of people’s style she admires. That how a lot of HIGH SCHOOL kids in the 80′s looked when we were tying to look cool.

      • I know the type: doting upon 45-year-old poseurs who can claim they were THERE through all of the Eighties. They’ll believe any amount of bullshit spewed by that little shut-in who swears that he was one of the big shots at CBGB’s, because everyone who was there is too busy having a real life to contradict him. “Ooh, you actually met Adam Ant backstage and then beat the hell out of him? Can I suck your dick?”

  22. that fat farm face doesn’t need food stamps–she needs a good kick in the ass!

  23. I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.


  25. I don’t feel bad for her, she talks in the article about how she let her savings account dwindle from going out to bars and brunch. Food stamps are meant for people that would have to choose between toilet paper and food. This girl needs to get a second job if she can’t support herself. If you don’t have kids you don’t have to worry about daycare and can work as much as you want.

  26. As a native I always love to hear these stories as if they would evoke some kind of feeling of pity but they don’t. If you can’t be resourceful enough to make it here they get the fuck out because this city is way overcrowded as it is, people like her are the reason why houses get thorn down and expensive condo’s go up. The only comfort I get with hipsters lurking about is the fact that I don’t feel the least bit scared walking around in neighborhoods that used to be rough as hell back in the day.

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