Category Archives: Uncategorized

For one post only

There’s a guy who leaves comments every now and then, always late at night, that always give me a chuckle. Like this one:

JK is still awaiting for dopey to try to and she can’t of course wipe some of these posts before she is sued for ? Imagine Gillard types trying to even talke the tight lid off a jam jar with puny white sheilas hands let alone toss a grenade where it has to go suckers -Guess we will have to investigate Maams PHD title thesis ? bet its crapp media bolloocky femmo garbage post modern junkette cripper critter collosal creepy anti male garbaological neon marxistfatarsedfemmo shit?

Gotta give him credit, that’s actually a pretty good thesis title. I think I’m gonna use it. And neon as an insult is so on-trend right now. I love wearing bright colours, so who am I to argue with being called neon?

Even his spelling is a work of art:

I believe I will have to speeke personally to Jules the carbonica deeoxxeede PM about this blogg site It is addictive certainly and I can’t leave it go–Holy Cow and thanks to the originators even though they hate my gutts– My buisness is failing -my teeth are falling out I have stopped my martial arts and I have not even moved my bowels for a while –shot to bits its dreadful there must be a law agin it babe PM come on baby Now where is my harp My God I will never get to Heaven what about you Kevin..?? oh turned down the catholic faith and went over to the other side –oh dear oh dear.. jk- nighty bye kidds.

There’s just something so refreshing about the way he uses English. He’s actually put some effort into his insults – unlike some douche called “Frank” who left this comment a while ago:

Eat shit you old fucking bags. Life sucks once you realize you can’t get shit for free any more, and act crazy and get away with it. Be nice, be sweet, be sane, and realize that for all your romantic talk, you’re just as selfish as any man out there. Get to the back of the line where you belong old bitches, go watch your Twilight movies and fantasize about how you were younger. You’re not Bella, I’m banging her tonight.

That’s right, “Frank” is going to be “banging” a teenager who doesn’t even exist because that’s the closest he’ll ever get to a vagina. I think we can all feel a little sorry for “Frank”.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure JK feels that I’m denying him his right to be published on News with Nipples. I’m mean like that. So, come on down JK. For one post only, the floor is all yours. Better make the comments worth it.

The casual misogyny of QandA

Did you see QandA last night? A bunch of supposedly intelligent people gossiping about the private lives and personal characters of women they don’t know. One woman was called a “tart” because of her job. Another was called a “floozy” because she was an ex-girlfriend. And in another charming moment, Barry Humphries referred to Gina Rinehart’s “neverending hole”. Which was applauded. Hoo hoo hee hee, how funny. This is how our “intelligentsia” discusses women and gee, doesn’t it make you proud?

You can see the episode on the ABC website. The transcript will apparently be up from 2pm today.

A lot of the blame for the stupid should be directed at Tony Jones and the QandA team. Firstly, for choosing questions like this:

Emelia Starbright asked via facebook: Why is Gina Rinehart so greedy?

Rinehart is a businesswoman. Her job is to make money. I don’t hear Andrew Forrest or Frank Lowy or Gerry Harvey or Harry Triguboff or James Packer or Ivan Glasenberg (the second richest in the country) being called greedy for doing their jobs. The lack of a culture of philanthropy in Australia is a serious issue, but that’s not what’s being discussed with this question about greed: Rinehart is rich, and she wants to make more money, how much does one woman need, she’s ambitious so clearly she is unhappy and maybe if she was a better mother then she wouldn’t need so much money.

And secondly, for encouraging the panel, one by one, to discuss Rinehart’s character. Like this, from David Marr:

Well, I think it’s a personal question, isn’t it, really? [And then goes on to be very personal] She’s the richest woman in the world and she’s humiliating herself and her family in the courts in order not to have to pay her children the money that is pouring into the estate so that she can control it and dole it out exactly as she wants. This is amazingly perverse behaviour. But as I understand it, behind it all lies this towering ambition to fund in her own right, to get up this immense iron ore mine, and for that she seems to be willing to appear as greedy as all get out, she’s willing to appear brutally cruel to her own family. And so she goes. There is a funny way in which huge amounts of money in some people don’t actually sate the appetite but make them crave more, it’s something about us human beings… There are ways of behaving when you are one of the richest people in the world, with a little more grace than she behaves, particularly vis a vis her own family, and she appears to display a quite remarkable wish to control every cent that goes through her hands.

I see David Marr is also lacking in grace.

Thing is, how the fuck would he – or any of us – know what goes on in the Rinehart family? There have been a few court stories published, but since it’s an ongoing case they don’t give the full picture. Perhaps Rinehart does want to be in charge of all the money? Perhaps the children are incompetent with money? Perhaps it’s just like any other family argument except that when you can afford lawyers, you say “fuck it, let’s get the lawyers”? The point is that we don’t know and it’s really none of our business what Rinehart does with her own money and this sort of character assassination of someone I’m pretty sure they have never met is pretty disgusting. Good on Jacki Weaver for saying, “I think we are getting a bit unkind about Mrs Rinehart” and trying to change the topic. But then Jones brings it back by asking Miriam Margolyes what she thinks of Rinehart, and she mentions Rinehart’s appearance and apparent lack of generosity. Obviously, being a big lefty, I do not support mining companies digging shit out of the ground without giving money back to the country. I do not support Rinehart trying to get out of paying for the pollution her business creates. And I certainly do not support the casual misogyny that’s encouraged on QandA every time they talk about women.

It’s funny* (*not funny), Marr was happy to say nasty things about Rinehart, but later comments that the “vicious” attacks on Cate Blanchett for “joining political debate” were “unfair”. The word you want here, David, is hypocrite.

And then we get into “no one’s sayin’ it but we’re all thinkin’ it: who’d believe a sex worker?” territory. From Marr: “I don’t really think we need the testimony of the tart”.

Then Humphries refers to Clive James’ ex as “some floozy”, and calls Craig Thomson a heap of names in order to get a cheap laugh. It’s all oh so funny.

And then a video question about how women have too much power and have emasculated men:

Newton Gatoff asked: G’day mate, in a country where women are the richest in business and most powerful in politics, has the Ozzie machismo lost its mojo on the international stage?

Directed at a man who dresses as a woman on the “world stage”. The question was rubbished by the panel, and quite rightly. So why waste our time with it, when I’m sure there were plenty of intelligent questions submitted for the show. I don’t know why I keep expecting QandA to be intelligent, because most of what I see certainly isn’t.

What should have been an interesting show because it wasn’t filled with politicians staying “on message” with their boring talking points (and I’m not the only person bored by that, since last night was the show’s biggest audience of the year), was dominated by misogynist drivel that was encouraged by the show’s host. The one politician on the show, John Hewson, just looked like he was politely tolerating idiots the whole time.

Apologies from a lazy blogger

Sorry there’s been no post in a week. I haven’t had anything to say. I know, I know, me with nothing to say. Shocking!

In other news, ManFriend went to San Fran (and then Utah) this afternoon, so for the next 10 days I’ll be talking to myself, making lists, drinking too much wine with awesome girlfriends, and sketching someone else’s nudeness.

Back after Australia Day

Just a quick note to say I’ll be computer-free for a few days, but should be back swearing and saying vagina after Australia Day.

Enjoy the public holiday!

Bump wrangling

ManFriend and I went to a wedding on the weekend. And we have another one this weekend, which ends our eight-weeks-in-a-row of weddings, hens and bucks parties.

When I tell women about all these weddings we go to – about five a year for the last four years, and six this year since August – their first question is, “have you been able to wear the same dress to them all, or is the same group of friends getting married?”. Isn’t it funny that men can – and do – wear the same suit to every wedding, but women tend to wear different outfits? I don’t have any outrage or theory about this. It’s none of my business what people spend their money on. Besides, I quite like frocking up for a wedding. It means I can wear my second-hand dresses from the 50s-80s that are a little too fabulous for everday wear. In my experience, the cheaper the dress the more compliments you’ll get. Oh, I did wear trousers to Lexy and SuperDik’s 1920s garden party wedding: grey men’s trousers, white shirt, white tuxedo waistcoat and black bow tie. All second-hand bargains with the original tags still attached, for a grand total of $31. (Lawandshoes will hate this, but I’ve only got one pair of wedding shoes, which are black and, in my mind at least, go with everything.)

So, for the last wedding of the year, I want to wear something a little bit special. It’s another second-hand find and is simply gorgeous:

black and white satin skirt

Still life with black and white striped satin skirt and rollerskates

It’s made from that thick, structured satin that you just don’t seem to find anymore.

But it’s a bit tight and I’m worried I’ll split a seam when I sit down. So I went to see if a body-wrangling control garment made any difference. It didn’t, but the experience was educational. This is what I learned:

* Some control garments you can get into by yourself, but require two (sober) people to get out of.

* Some have little slits in the crotch so you can go to the toilet without struggling out of them. However, you do need to use both hands to pull the fabric out of the way and frankly, I fail to see how you could do this without pissing on your fingers.

* If you just want to suck your belly in a little, there’s a band of stretchy fabric you can wear around your middle. But be warned, it will roll in on itself the minute you sit down and can only be fixed by a trip to the bathroom to hoik up your dress.

* Sadly, designers are yet to come up with a garment that squishes the fat from your arse up into the boob area.

* There’s nothing wrong with bumps on your body. How did we willingly get back into corsets for non-kinky reasons?

I know slim women who wear control garments so their bodies look completely smooth, like they’ve been airbrushed. Don’t get me wrong, that’s their business and I’m not about to tell people what they can and cannot wear. But how did it become so normal to wear something so uncomfortable, that no one else can see, because of this idea that bodies look better when they don’t look like bodies? I wore one of those waist cinchers to a freakin’ bbq the other day. A bbq for fuck’s sake. Who have I become?

Nothing today

Hey gang, just a quick note to say there’ll be no real post until the weekend because I’m in a conference, then have two long days at work.

And speaking of the weekend, it’s the only one in eight weeks that doesn’t involve a hen’s party or a wedding. ManFriend, however, has a buck’s party.

A short break

Sorry folks, I haven’t been here for a while. We’re trying to finish the renovation, amid work and hen’s and buck’s weekends and out-of-town weddings.

I’ll be back next week. If you see something you want me to rant about, just post the link below.

Kim.

My very own research assistant monkey

The title only makes sense if you read yesterday’s comments.

And now this becomes a really awkward post to write.

I am a winner in the Best Australian Blogs competition. In the commentary category. That’s fucking awesome! I tried to take a photo of me Toyota-ing, but it’s really difficult to photograph yourself jumping, and all the ungraceful leaps meant I just hurt my feet on the concrete floor.

Congratulations to overall and business winner Styling You, lifestyle/personal winner Random Ramblings of a SAHM, words winner Bothersome Words and people’s choice winner Bike Exif.

And well done to my fellow finalists – The Failed Estate, Skeptic Lawyer, Darcy Moore and Molks TV Talk – you had me very nervous.

Now, I’m sure it’s cocktail o’clock…

Choose life, choose nipples

This is just a quick post of shameless self-promotion. I’m a finalist in the 2011 Best Australian blogs competition, up against four very good blogs in the commentary section. I even get a badge:

The News with Nipples is a Best Australian Blogs 2011 finalist

The News with Nipples is a Best Australian Blogs 2011 finalist

Tomorrow, the highly talented and incredibly good looking judges will announce the winner. But you, my highly talented, incredibly good looking and – it has to be said – amazing in bed readers, can vote in the People’s Choice Award. I can’t offer you fame or fortune if you vote for me, but I can offer you more posts filled with swear words, vaginas, and media commentary. Voting closes at 5pm today.

This is why

This is why there’s no real post today:

Still life with red toes and tissue midden

Still life with red toes and tissue midden

I’m sick again. Again! Just the other day I was complaining of manflu. Maybe I’ve got Mr Simon Black disease? But without the scarlet bit. Oh, and that’s only two hours of tissues, by the way.

ManFriend is going to make me magic soup when he gets home. And then not even complain once when I snore all night because I’m so full of snot that I can’t breathe properly. He is awesome.

Update May 5: I went through 350 tissues yesterday. And not only did ManFriend make me delicious magic soup that made me feel better, but he came home with a new pillow for me. He is awesome times a bazillion.