THE FASHION & LIFESTYLE MAGAZINE FOR CITY WOMEN AND MEN

Bitch
2 Power ’14

Written by admin, 3 years ago, 0 Comments

     

    Too much macho, not mucho
    The thoughtful, measured yet ultimately decisive approach President Obama takes on everything that crosses his desk seems guaranteed to get the wham-bam brigade on the right hot under their figurative stiff collars. John Wayne or Chuck Norris style action is what they want … and need. “For God’s Sake get something done,” they rote, “instead of sitting around talking all the time.” Yeah right. Even if it is premature and so obviously fraught with unacceptable risk and  the direst consequences.Look at his approach to the war in Syria. There is no easy answer but premature ill-advised intervention would have undoubtedly aided the ISIL terrorists.  Don’t be a wuss they chant,  “I’ve seen Clint Eastwood shoot the bad guys while the hostage goes free every time.” ‘Make my day’, ‘I’ll be back’ or Rambo’s ‘Live for nothing or die for something’ all epitomize a nonsensical immature understanding of a complicated world where meaningful and reliable decisions are the result of informed discussion and debate. Often over a cup of tea!  Cheap shot, sorry guys. Bill, reporter, Valley Stream.

    It’s not Your Granny’s Life
    Why is everyone in a fucking rush to get married? I don’t get the whole race down the aisle phenomenon that seems to be consuming our generation. My friend Hannah just got married. She’s 23. Twenty-fucking-three. (She married a 33 year old, but that’s beside the point.) They were dating for less than a year when he proposed, and she said yes. Of course she did. I wasn’t surprised. Let me give you some background on my friend Hannah. She doesn’t date organically — only online. Hannah once dropped the “L” word on the first date. She’s one of those girls that assumes that if the relationship lasts more than a month, she’s found “the one.” As a result, she’s found “the one” about 5 times. When Hannah told me she was engaged, I threw up in my mouth a little bit. She then proceeded to tell me how she and her fiance wanted a short engagement. So I asked her, “If you know that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with this person, what’s the rush to get married?” If the only reason is to reap the legal benefits, and officially announce to the world that you’re no longer single, then that’s fucking ridiculous. You can lie to yourself all you want about how in love you are, and how ready you are to dedicate your lives to each other; but don’t insult me by trying to cover up the fact that you can’t suck it up and be emotionally self sufficient. It’s pathetic. It’s misrepresentation. It’s a fucking rouse for all the independent single women out there. It makes us look bad. It makes us look lonely. I believe the word self-help gurus use is “incomplete.” When in fact, we’re single because we have more important priorities to worry about than dying alone. Come to think of it, that’s not such a terrible idea. Eloise, editor, UWS

    Quacks for the Most Part
    Ebola.It makes me feel a fool and a traitor to reason, but I have to swallow my panic everyday. The threat of an epidemic (which in today’s world means an almost certain pandemic) is growing and despite constant reassurance from our medical experts and betters (methinks the lady doth protest too much), I am less and less certain of the future. Oh, and more and more certain that our medical experts and betters really KNOW FUCK ALL. If it’s best guesswork tell us, don’t intimate that you know the facts to be scientifically proven, just give us the information. At least then we can all make our own assessments.
    Anyone who doesn’t take doc’s advice with a gigantic pinch of salt would be well advised to google Thalidomide.
    (Oh and Mr and Ms Politician, sell a few  dozen new and unused fighters off the tarmac or a couple of aircraft carriers and we would have more than enough money to find a cure)
    Peter, journalist, NYC

    Thin Blue Line
    We have had a spate of police brutality crimes lately that have been given their fair share of news and tv-opinion coverage. Rightly so. And with cell phone cameras in every purse or pocket we should be getting more and more. Good job. To such an extent that we’ll soon be able to capture them all on youtube over and over ad nauseum at our leisure.  Make no error these crimes need to be highlighted and the perpetrators punished. And we must have the safeguard of constant vigilance.  But the police are not the enemy! Lets not lose sight of the job they do and the very small percentage of bad apples. If an officer of the law seems to us to be too strident and officious put yourself in the situation. In an unknown or at least uncertain circumstance he has to stamp his authority immediately to achieve some order and calm. Think of yourself in a wild fracas where chaos is everywhere and anarchy is about to break out. Even in a disputed traffic accident or domestic dispute at least two parties are going at it. With the ever present fear that a firearm might appear at any minute. Now think of how you might have to act in a situation where everyone is looking to you to mediate and how your first priority has to be to get them to respect and listen to you. Now do all of this in a split second with cameras recording your every move. No, cops do not have carte blanche and yes, they must obey the same rule of law as the rest of us but please Ms and Mr Liberal do not expect super powers or impose unrealistic expectations. To do so puts you as out of touch as the bad-apple cops you’re condemning. Ray, teacher, Bronx

    How You Doin’
    What is our obsession with the unattainable? This notion that someone or something is out of reach, for perfectly practical, financial, or moral reasons. Not theoretically, mind you, but logically.Is it a purely American mentality or is it a global epidemic to go  after something that we should flat out know that  we will never get?
    Careers,material objects, I understand. There are even some exceptions when it comes to relationships, but they are even rarer than Native Americans. Iknow this girl. Sweet, beautiful, funny, girl. She’s a bit of a floozy.More people dislike her than value her friendship, moral character, or just her as an individual. But I don’t judge. If you can get it, more power to you, right? But this past weekend, I bared witness to theextent of her floozitude. This girl is a serial monogamist. Always the umped, never the dumper. Insecurities so far up the Wazoo that she often jumps right into another relationship within days of her previousone’s demise. A few months ago, her boyfriend of 2 years broke up with her. True to form, less than a week later, she’s with someone new. But along her endless cycle of “Find a guy. Make him boyfriend. Get dumped by said boyfriend,” that seems to be on repeat more than “What does thefrog say” song, she has another pattern. There is another guy in her life that is by her side throughout her perpetual unrest. He is her back up plan, her plan B if you will. She’s slept with him, multiple times, when she’s single, more often when she’s not, but she will never ever EVER date him. She knows it. He knows it. But he’s still infatuated with her, and she doesn’t notice him unless she wants the attention that her current boyfriend should be giving her but cannot seem satisfy. A big group of us go out, including the triage of clusterfucks: my friend, her boyfriend, and her plan B. We’re dancing and having a blast. The girl’s  boyfriend suddenly gets too drunk to realize that she exists. And in response, the girl matches his alcohol intake and retaliates by sexually dancing with her Plan B. Dangling the dry hump right in front of him. Plan B is excited, in more ways than one I imagine, but thinks that maybe he can steal her away for the night. But when the song ends, and the night’s over, she goes home with her boyfriend. And I look at Plan B. He’s looking after her, with that glazed stare of stolen
    satisfaction, and regretful rejection. It was sad, really. Painful to watch. It reminded me of horse breeders. Stay with me here. Horse breeders breed racing horses. Powerful stallions. But in order to get the mare, the prized possession, all riled up, they first bring in a teasing pony. A male that does not have the genetic composition worthy for sperm distribution, but has the chemistry to provoke her sexual appetite. Then after a good few minutes, he’s yanked out of the room and replaced by the Money Maker. Plan B is a teasing stallion, used only for their sexual stimulation and possible alcoholic lubrication; never to be taken seriously, never to be fully seen. To all of you out there, set an alarm because this is your wake-up call. Get some fucking self-respect. If the grass is greener on the other side, let the unattainables graze by their damn selves! You’re more than a teasing stallion, but no one’s going to believe it until you do. So man-up, and move on. Lisa, legal asst., Yonkers

    Shitty Conversation
    As long as you can behave like a mature adult and take care of yourself, get as shwaysted as you want. But when it gets to the point when you need my help just standing up, go the fuck home. I met a beautiful girl, who could not hold her liquor to save her life. Lightweight doesn’t even begin to describe her lack of tolerance.  Perfect example of a time to call it quits. This girl gets so wasted that her motor skills noticeably impaired. We’re bar hopping, and she didn’t feel like waiting in line for the bar bathroom, and decided to
    use the Port-au-potty. Ugh, just that name, disgusting invention. Might  as well just call it, camping. I’m waiting for her outside, and all of a sudden hear her scream, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NOOOOOOOO!!!!” She comes out seconds later. Turns out she forgot her cell phone was in her back pocket. It fell in the hole in the ground. She tried to retrieve it, but that phone is and will always be forever unclean. I thought she
    must have fallen in by the pitiful desperation of her voice. That
    probably would have been better.
    Simon, salesman, East Village