Category Archives: Ranty ones

If you’re reading this anywhere except girlonthenet.com, it’s stolen

A bunch of scraper sites are automatically reposting blog posts from my site. Not just my own work, but that of guest bloggers and Stuart who draws the fantastic images that go with them. I am devastated by this, and doubly devastated by the fact that I can’t seem to get it taken down, despite repeated emails and reports to their domain provider, hosting provider, and others. So please do me a favour: if you are reading this blog post anywhere other than on Girl on the Net – the url is girlonthenet.com – please leave the site and come read it here instead.

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Does the new Gillette ad mean we’re winning?

Are you looking for a hot take on the new Gillette ad? You’ve come to the right place, because I’ve got LOADS of them. Let’s explore whether Gillette highlighting – and fighting against – toxic masculinity is a) the greatest thing to ever have happened, b) the WORST THING EVER or c) something in between.

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The sweat of his labour: a deeply unrealistic Christmas fantasy

As snow falls on the ground outside, she reaches out to him in the darkness and whispers: “Talk to me. Tell me something sexy.” He shifts a little to draw her closer, pressing his warm skin against her own. Bringing his lips close to her face, he ponders the things most likely to turn her on.

“I’ve finished writing all the Christmas cards,” he says. “All you need to do is sign them.”

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Sex robots and dick blankets: the future is hotter than the past

“This is perhaps the closest I’ve got to one of my own ideas: that of a sex duvet made from soft and strokeable fabric that vocally rumbles as it is touched and that curls around me as I sink into it. My sex robot will be changeable at a whim: perhaps one day a bed made of breasts; another day, a series of vibrating and moving penises that talk dirty to me. Maybe sometimes both. Because that’s the joy of adaptable, personalisable sex robots that aren’t human, that aren’t gendered – they can just be what feels good at a particular time.” – Kate Devlin, Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots

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Love Without Limits: could your relationship survive Louis Theroux?

Picture the scene: you’re lying in bed on a Sunday morning, having a coffee and a croissant with your beau or beaus. The doorbell rings, and in walks Louis Theroux. “Can I get you anything?” he asks, as you grin to cover the weird atmosphere and desperately wish you’d had the opportunity to brush your hair or put some fresh knickers on. “Tea? More coffee?” Slightly-too-long pause. “And tell me…” he continues, in his lovably awkward way “Tell me – are you happy?”

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