Alex Casey is a human adult woman who reads the news. Every week she’ll report back on what she sees. This week, the last before she goes the hell away from our news-sites for a few weeks: tennis brides, the pro-heckling movement and endless ‘everything makes you fat and dead’ stories about food. Read previous editions of this uplifting column here.
There have been some absolute stinker stories over the weekend that I thought were far too terrible to not drag into Monday and inflict upon all ye who enter here. Here’s the first, essential BIG READ that I enjoyed over a gentle tear and a scream-laugh:
“Women live in their hearts. Within the dark chambers and pulsing valves dwells our essential nurturing and emotive self.
Men, on the other hand, live in their heads. Simple, matter-of-fact men – with their straight-to-the-point strategies and one-dimensional methods of communication – often find it hard to connect with women’s heart-based colourfully complex natures.”
Let me crawl out of the cramped aorta in which I reside for one moment here: this is horse shit! Actually, not even horse shit because that makes for good fertiliser and can at least foster new life. It’s cat shit. It’s the cat shit that killed my parsley at home, as well as all my hopes and dreams. The tosser brainiac behind this made his big breakthrough when he realised the following one day:
“All my earlier strategies went out the window and I talked to them [women] like they were friends. By the end of the photo shoot they were all interested and engaged… It was a life-changing moment.“
For just $47 you too can come to the realisation that women are human beings, and that talking to them as such might be quite a good idea. [NZ Herald]
This column from Verity Johnson asserts that catcalling is essentially fine because she sees it as an opportunity to practice comebacks and sass her aggressors. That’s all well and good, but what about all the women whose hearts skip a beat when they hear a raised male voice? The ones who would rather scowl, jump in an Uber or phone their best friend for support? We can’t all be ‘the cool girl’ all the time. But what we can do is… hold some beetroot sexily:
Here’s some women-in-sport coverage (kind of) courtesy of the gossip pages, featuring an adult woman who is also a wee dainty delicate glamour girl with many many gifts:
This is enough to give me a headache, so it’s great to see Nurofen coming through with special painkillers for women that are about $300 more expensive. No wonder we all want to reside in the dark chambers of the heart, there is clearly nothing for us out here.
A great start to the day:
This harrowing, completely backwards story would be enough to drive any woman to drink. That is at least until they reach that pivotal age when they should hang up the goon bag, put on a muumuu and mail themselves straight to jail. Nobody wants your blobby alcohol body:
I mean, I know we like getting told what exactly we should eat all the time, but this feels a little excessive:
Kate Middleton also made the front page of the Daily Mail this week for being snapped looking a bit tired, also known as being 100% normal. “Feeling the Christmas strain?” Trust me, this bloody angst has nothing to do with Christmas at all.
Yesterday I got told about eating placenta, BUT WAIT – THERE’S MORE!
Ah for fuck’s sake. This morning I got a green smoothie at Tank because I haven’t eaten a vegetable since October. As I ordered, I noticed a rough as guts sign that yelled “EAT WITHOUT REGRET”. But now it’s not even healthy and I should have a million regrets?!?! This is the worst trolling of all time.
I see your question and I raise you: Is this too much for a Prime Minister?
I Just Don’t Know How She Does It. Please note: the only coverage of women in tennis we’ve had this week have been via “glamour girl” and “tennis bride.”
It’s Christmastime, the year to forgive the mistakes of the past and look forward to the future. Move over violent repeated domestic abuse offender Chris Brown: WE’VE GOT SOMETHING FAR MORE IMPORTANT TO DEAL WITH THIS HOLIDAY SEASON:
Throw open all ye doors to Chris Brown, shut ye windows to all ye grans.
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