Tag Archives: Gender

Bitchin about the body

On Tuesday night, with the sister in tow, I headed to Irene’s Warehouse in Brunswick to become, for the very first time, a Real Hot Bitch.

It was an organised and synchronised dance class with the realest, hottest, bitches from the Brunswick region and it was a helluva piece o’fun.

To the rock pop stylings of not really anyone’s favourite bleached and spiked blonde (Roxette) we learned a choreographed dance that was low on technique and high on dance passion.

Dressed in lycra, g-tards (gee-string leotards), with some dancers donning mullet wigs, we stepped our way through a routine to She’s Got The Look.  Continue reading

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Big and bushy: just the way he likes it

Imagine two types of women and two types of men, divided by dress.

In the one corner we’d have the women who dress for men (short, tight and tits) sizing up against the women dressed for women: jump suits, maxi dresses, boyfriend jeans, high-waisted anything, geometric-cut dresses, platform brogues). Then in opposite corners would be the men who dress for women: wearing clothes, who would be scoffing at the men who dress for men: bearded, big and bushy. Continue reading

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George Clooney and leading ladies

There are a lot of things to enjoy about George Clooney, not least he’s begun dating a former pro-wrestler.

He recently made some comments which made me like him even more.

“There’s this strange thing that’s happened over the last 25 or 30 years where there’s this decision being made that women aren’t able to carry the box office,” George told Entertainment Weekly.

“Now, Bridesmaids has proved that to be bullsh*t, and ‘The Help’ has proven it to be bullsh*t. But it’s much harder to get a film with a woman lead made. When a man hits 40 is when roles just begin to happen. And for women it doesn’t happen. I find that to be a very concerning issue.”

He backs up his comments with a nod to the bottom line: both films mentioned reaped huge returns at the box office.

It’s really nice to hear these thoughts which team his disbelief at blatant sexism, with the defence of clear financial incentive. Well said.

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Over-sharing Real Estate

I don’t know who Margaret Cho is. I know I like her though.

M. Cho: “I’m very inappropriate, which makes me a problem dinner guest, because at some point during the evening someone inevitably says, ‘Okay, heh heh heh, okay, too much information! Heh heh heh. Don’t go there!’ I live there. I bought a house there.”

This could have been said of me at some point during most book clubs. Actually, most days really.

Oh well, a mouthful of Crown Royale to over-sharing!

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Wise words from a Simpson Sister

Younger Simpson was offered $4 million to pose for Playboy. Mostly likely more than she ever made during her fledgling music career (spanning both the pop rock and folk days).

Her response to the offer: “I can make $4 million somewhere else.”

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The Melbourne Cup Kitchen Sweep

Melbourne Cup public holiday, my friend put on lunch. Roast something-or-other, veg and the television. We watched the horses race, there was a poorly organised sweep, we ate, chit-chatted and ate. It was nice.

Post-lunch, I sat, aware of a messy kitchen, dripping with roast fat, squished pumpkin and benches thick with grease. I watched my friends for movement. We were three women, four men. We were rather restful. Slowly, eventually, one rose – female – and we heard the sounds of running water and the clink of moving dishes. I resisted the urge to assist. For a while. It didn’t last.

The host – male – and I went into the kitchen. We grabbed well-damp tea towels and began to dry. No one else arrived. I decided this was ridiculous and called my boyfriend. He could help.

It was he who commented, had this been an all-male event, no one would have bothered with cleaning up. It would have been left to the host at a later time, when everyone had left, to begin the laborious task of restoring order and dishes to cupboards. We on the other hand – the dishwasher and I – felt an obligation. We didn’t want to clean, we just felt we should.

At any dinner I hold, admittedly these are few, help is always ready at hand, from mostly female hands.

Why  didn’t our male guests feel any obligation to clean? Probably because it’s never expected. While they may be asked to sort an empty gas bottle, rarely would they traverse a room, tray of food in clumsy hands, offering food to nibbling guests.

Me, a girl, on the other hand, well I can’t remember a party or Christmas dinner, or any other event, my parents held, at which I wouldn’t be sent on my way with tray and hesitancy hand-in-hand, offering food up as quick as I could to return as fast as I could to whatever it was I’d rather be doing. I never wanted this job. Ever. I was given it and told it must be done. So I did it.

And what has come of it? I’ve learnt a lesson in party politics and obligations – if I’m fed, I help to clean. It’s simple and I’m sharing it with my boyfriend. He’s learning later in life than I did, sure, but he’s learning. And I’m not going to spend party time, stuck in a kitchen, cleaning someone’s else’s mess. He can help.

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