The Green Eyed Monster

As I was rifling through the Sunday Times Style supplement I came across a little story that I found very pathetic and a bit weird. The Style supplement rarely has anything worth reading, most of the time pandering to the stereotypical obsessions of women- clothes, ageing, and dieting. It is usually chucked in to the recycling bin, along with the plastic packaging covering the rest of the supplements.

Anne Graham writes about how she finds herself becoming envious of her teenage daughter’s body.

The other evening, I walked in on my 15-year-old daughter as she lay soaking in the bath. Somehow, I held onto the gasp I wanted to emit at the sight of her: that beautiful young body, with its impossibly pert breasts and taut midriff, surely belonged to a woman and not my little girl. “Darling, I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, making to hurry out of the bathroom. “I’ll leave you in peace.” For the first time since she was born, seeing my child naked had left me feeling embarrassed, awkward and, oh dear, rather jealous.

I had to take a double take and reread the paragraph. What did she expect would happen as her daughter grew up? That she would not go through puberty and develop into a woman just as she did? I saw something similar to this on the Daily Mail website, a woman who decided to get plastic surgery so she would look as “youthful” as her daughter.

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Your Pink Button

It seems the stupidity of some women knows no bounds. Not only are they chopping off bits of their genitals, now it seems there is a product to restore the “pinkness” to your nether regions. I really hope this is some sort of joke. For some reason “pinkness” is seen as the ideal colour for vaginas and labias. This does not take into account that some women’s are brown, black and any colour in between.

Does anyone really care that much about the colour of your particulars? I think this belongs in the basket for stupid people along with vaginal freshening mints and re-virginising.

pinkbutton Your Pink Button

(Click the pic to go to the site)

Have a look at some F.A.Q samples. This has to be some sort of pisstake.

pinkbutton2 Your Pink Button

Battle of the Sexes

men versus women Battle of the Sexes

The first installment of this rubbish, hosted by Miriam O’Callaghan, starts with women debating the role of men in the new Irish society. I wasn’t expecting much, but decided to watch it and see the embarrassment unfurl. If anyone was expecting some sort of serious intellectual debate they will be sorely disappointed. For a moment there I thought I was watching a Sex in The City fanclub meeting. The usual moaning about men not pulling their weight in the household chores, how unfashionable they are and how terrible they are at being romantic. This is the type of programme that seeks to provide entertainment by showcasing the weariest stereotypes of both men and women.

Funny how the woman complaining about Irish men’s lack of fashion sense was sporting terribly bleached hair and pancaked makeup (Name: Claire Tully. Occupation: Glamour Model… that makes sense). She later started moaning about how she would never date a man in his late thirties who didn’t have a car and a house. I can hear the faint digging right behind her ears. She didn’t understand what a man like that would have been doing with his life. Another panelist mentioned the possibility that such a man may just have been studying for a PhD, or something else worthwile. Claire didn’t accept this, however. Some people actually do spend time studying or travelling in their twenties, Claire. Not everyone can pause their studies and get paid to pose naked in seedy magazines.

Claire wants a man she can settle down and have kids with, after she has done her ten or so years of getting her tits out for the lads. I don’t think there’s much chance of an intelligent man being interested in her anyway, or at least a man who asks more from life than saving up his money, entering a boring marriage, buying a house and popping out kids, which is what she said she wants. Claire has a good education behind her, apparently. Just shows how meaningless degrees are as a measure of intelligence. Apart from one or two exceptions, the barrister and one or two other women, most of the people involved in this programme were unintelligent and uninformed. And how lame was that spectacled guy at the end who tried to stir things up by mentioning a swimsuit round? You’re not funny, you’re not witty.

Coming next week, a big group of balding farmers and pea-brained rugby players talk about how women are no good at reading directions and spend half the day worrying about the size of their bottoms.

Tennis at Wimbledon

tennis 926x1024 Tennis at Wimbledon