I was revisiting Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall” the other day, and though I’d always thought of that guy, the one that’s lumbering round his yard screening out his neighbour stone by stone, as a hard-boiled misanthropist who probably lived with his mum well into his forties, I can kind of see his point now, … Continue reading Love Thy Neighbour
For those of you not au fait with the term microaggression, it is not, as one might suspect, the act of being flicked with an elastic band at close range. It is something far more serious. You can check those antediluvian notions of overt racism, sexism, sizeism and classism at the door – years of … Continue reading Minority Report
Dear Abby, I’ve just turned 40 and have started to notice my husband’s interest in me waning. There is a new secretary at his office with flotation devices for breasts, and I’m scared of losing him to her. What can I do to get him back? Cathy. Hi Cathy, Your predicament is common. Just the … Continue reading A word of advice
Oh Japan, sweet land of cherry blossom, majestic temples and bottom rinsing. I’m here, and it’s every bit as good as the infommercials. This isn’t my first rodeo, but the last time I was in Asia, I was swiftly whisked away from the airport to an island paradise where everyone spoke Asian Australian and laughed … Continue reading Konnichi wa Bitちes!
For those who haven’t heard, my brother’s coiffeur has been the subject of a malicious, unprovoked attack that affronted not only his tiny man bun, but questioned his sense of style, his grooming habits and – dare I say it – his sanity. We are not sure yet who the hater is, but we know this much: … Continue reading Knot without my bun.
Since scholarship money only extends so far, and I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle (eating), I’ve taken a weekend job at *undisclosed petrol station* #humblepie. I joined for the uniform, primarily. It’s the way it sits on you. It’s the cut of the fabric, the way it takes every one of your best features … Continue reading It’s a hard knock life.
Hi Grace, You might not remember me, but I met you at Jill Landers’ party two weeks back – I was the one wearing the hessian scarf, stone-wash overalls and a shirt featuring the entire cast of Hey Dad. It was an outfit inspired by my late grandad, a humble wheat farmer, whose earthy ensembles … Continue reading I knew what epistolary meant before you.