Fem­i­nist life hacks from your fave TV char­ac­ters


Diva (UK) - - Lifestyle - WORDS ROXY BOURDILLON

Slay him.

Nav­i­gat­ing the daily dilemmas in the ob­sta­cle course of life can get a tad over­whelm­ing. Here’s a lit­tle in­spi­ra­tion from the most badass women on the box.

You’re walk­ing along the street and a ran­dom bloke shouts “dyke” at you.

Pas­sion­ately re­cite Shake­spearean verse at him. If that doesn’t shut him up scream, “I will cut you”, un­til he runs away sob­bing.

Lo­cate the near­est bal­cony and kick him off it.

Con­fuse him with this logic: “Why would you as­sume I’m a friend of Ellen just be­cause I’m man­nish, ag­gres­sive, have short hair, only wear track­suits, coach girls’ sport and I mar­ried my­self?”

You didn’t hearh his taunts be­cause yoou were too busy rid­ing abouut on your mo­tor­bike with your ggor­geous de­tec­tive girl­friend, sav­ings the world.

Your boss is pay­ing you less than the guy who sits next to you for do­ing the ex­act same job.

Wreak re­venge by bas­ing a char­ac­ter on him in your ac­claimed sci-fi erot­ica se­ries, Time Hump Chron­i­cles.

Re­move your blazer to re­veal your­self as the leather-clad com­man­der of the 12 clans you are. Fix your sex­ist boss with a mean­ing­ful stare and de­clare, “This one is mine”.

Tell him to ex­pect a call from your lawyer, then launch into a per­for­mance of Bey­oncé’s Who Run The World (Girls), push­ing co-work­ers into walls and set­ting off fire ex­tin­guish­ers for dra­matic ef­fect.

Slay him. Then cel­e­brate with a trip to the lo­cal me­dieval brothel for a lap-dance from a wench.

March into the cor­ner of­fice and con­fi­dently ex­plain that you do a bril­liant job pro­tect­ing the planet and you de­serve fair and equal com­pen­sa­tion.

A sex­ist, racist orang­utan with a Twit­ter ac­count be­comes leader of the free world.

Pee in front of him ag­gres­sively. Un­for­tu­nately, it turns out he’s into that.

Ex­press your rage through face-paint, make a throne out of branches and lead the re­sis­tance.

As the first fe­male Vice Prez of the US, you use your Wash­ing­ton con­nec­tions to get the orang­utan im­peached so you can be­come POTUS your­self, with Becky as your loyal Sec­re­tary of State.

Raise an army, climb aboard a bat­tle­ship and claim the Iron Throne, I mean the White House, as your own. Oh, and slay him, obvs.

You’re used to de­fend­ing hu­man­ity from dan­ger­ous forces. With all your sta­teof-the-art tech­nol­ogy, lethal weaponry and the help of your Su­per­girl sis­ter, the orang­utan stands no chance.

You’re giv­ing a speech at the Women’s March and aren’t sure what to say.

“Don’t waste time with chicks who are weeds if you’re a gar­den rose. And if you like some­one, tell her she has nice tit­ties. Girls like that.”

“Vic­tory stands on the back of sac­ri­fice.”

“It’s like Madonna once said: I’m tough, I’m am­bi­tious, and I know what I want. If that makes me a bitch, ok.”

“I don’t want to have a dozen sons. I want to have a dozen ad­ven­tures.”

“I can't prom­ise you a life with­out pain and loss be­cause pain is a part of life. It's what makes us who we are. It is what makes you a hero.”

DIVAD DIS­CLAIMER: This ar­ti­cle is in­tended for en­ter­tain­ment pur­poses only. PleaseP do not take this ad­vice lit­er­ally, par­tic­u­larly the parts about slay­ing peo­ple.

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