Come on girls!? You all know the feeling, you're in an inexplicable bad mood and he doesn't know what's wrong!? What's up with that!? Someone cut in front of you in the queue in top shop, and when he comes home after a hard day at work he doesn't wanna know, he just wants to have a beer and watch repeats of Top Gear on Dave! What is he, a gay!? No of course he isn't because then he'd understand your plight and have sympathy, but since he's a man, and a hetero one, he has no idea and is evidently rubbish and a pig.
So here are our top ten reasons men are rubbish!
1. They hate your shoe collection! Claiming that there's no space in a one bedroom apartment for all your pairs of scabby old heels.
2. He likes videogames. There isn't time for that when America's Next Top Model is on, and that's followed by Lipstick Jungle!
3. Never ask for directions. He seems to deliberately get lost, then ask me to get out of the car. I always find my way home though!
4. All he wants is sex. All I want is sex too but I have to make a complaint about this as if it is something completely unnatural, to merely highlight my self-centred idiocy.
5. His credit rating is rubbish. I've already got 5 credit cards in his name, and only have had like 4 late payments...a month...why the hell doesn't he pay my bills that I have in his name!?
6. His penis looks like a little alien. My little rosebud looks lovely. He says it looks like a myopic butcher has hacked at a rotting steak with a blunt rusty fish-oil coated axe, but still, his dick looks weird.
7. He's so insulting. Last week I said I looked so fat and he didn't say no you don't. It's irrelevent that I would have gone "I do, I do look fat, shut up!" because he should have said it anyway.
8. He doesn't like your friends. Ok, so they come over, have a few glasses of red, spill some on his nice light coloured carpets, they get make up all over the place and leave stilletto marks on his wood flooring but they're my friends!
9. He works hard. Why won't he come out shopping with me. I'm a professional too, I work in the city (as a secretary/admin/something that involves wearing stupidly overpriced 'professional' clothes but isn't actually all that important a job) he only mucks around with telly monitors and stuff...called a cardiographer or something...it's not like that's not important and he can't take a break to come shopping with me in Primark!
10. I'm a woman. Therefore, not only do I have a c*nt, but I'm genetically programmed to act like one.