Stop griping Jafas
Dear Aucklanders who are up in arms about your fuel tax increase, You have no idea how lucky you are. Firstly, people outside Auckland pay a s***load more per litre of petrol than you, simply because they are outside Auckland. Secondly, your public transport system is seriously great.
I know because I live in a town that has — wait for it — no public transport. Yep, none. Nada. Zilch. When I'm in your hood for work I love catching the bus or train to work. I can read and not have to swear at the idiots on the road.
Also, if you use your supermarket dockets wisely, you won't even notice. Just saying. Your power is cheaper. Your rates are cheaper (seriously). You have public transport that works. You have after-hours medical care. You have K-Mart.
Sincerely, Northland Citizen, Joanna Page.
Male author just asking for female putdown
When an anonymous male author decided to brag about his skills in writing authentic female characters on Twitter, he was just asking to be taken down a peg or two, especially when another author Gwen C. Katz shared a paragraph of his work: 'I sauntered over, certain he noticed me. I'm hard to miss I'd like to think — a little tall (but not too tall), a nice set of curves if I do say so myself, pants so impossibly tight that if I had had a credit card in my back pocket you could read the expiration date,' writes the author of Necromantic. Her response went viral and thousands replied to 'describe yourself the way a male author would'.
"She had a butt like two buttery brioche rolls and presumably an inner world and job of some kind.
"Her large breasts strained against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. The T-shirt had an obscure Star Wars reference on it, which I carefully explained to her, since she had presumably bought it because she liked the colours."
"She was petite. Exotic. Some kind of Asian. "Konichiwa?" I say, bestowing my most charming smile. She rolls her eyes. I try again. "Ni hao?" She sticks her middle finger up at me. I laugh, thinking to myself: what a bitch."
"Carolyn was old. Not sure how old, doesn't matter, too old for the likes of me. And fat. Wore glasses. No makeup. It's like she gave up trying to be attractive for men. Or women. Whichever. I'm not sexist. She may have won a Nobel in her day, but she sure was nothing to look at."
"She walked toward me with the confidence of how attractive she probably was fifteen years ago."