Posts Tagged ‘Robin Brox’

5 Things that Disgust Me in Men: By 5 Famous Lankville Women

August 12, 2015 1 comment
Sheeba feeding you your future on a shimmering platter of love.



“I am an emotional woman by nature. Therefore, I could not stand the love and companionship of a man who was unable to share these emotions that often explode within me and which I feel so deeply. To make me happy, a man would have to be able to make me laugh when I am happy, to sob uncontrollably with me when I am sad, and to share my often senseless grief with me with I grieve.”

LE NORA ST. JAMES, Jungle Movie Actress

LE NORA ST. JAMES, Jungle Movie Actress

“I am really disgusted by men who hold up hour glasses and are like– OK, time’s up, honey.” Gosh, I can’t stand that. I want a man who doesn’t worry about time, who ignores times, who lets the day unfold naturally, even if it means missing the boat back to the mainland and having to stay with some weird island people that don’t have any teevees. That’s OK, though, because, like, then you get the adventure of staying with island people and a story you can tell later when you get back to the mainland. I also don’t like men who aren’t adventurous. If I want to go into a dark cave, why shouldn’t I be able to? I don’t need some man telling me, “no, no no.” All I want to hear is yes. That’s just my most favorite word!

ROBIN BROX- Businesswoman, Founder Brox Uncolored Condiments

ROBIN BROX- Businesswoman, Founder and CEO, Brox Uncolored Condiments

I drive 100 MPH everywhere and I don’t stop for any god damn traffic lights. If a man is scared by that, then he better stick to the fucking kiddie rides. And I don’t like prudes. If you don’t want to even broach the subject of rallying up enough pelvic torque to take a woman to a place where heaven knows no fucking bounds, then let’s call the whole god damn thing off right now. What am I in this shit for– the conversation? Forget it. I gotta’ look after these god damn uncolored condiments, I don’t need any of that garbage. The first time some asshole squirts some yellow mustard on a $20 tie is the next time I get another customer. They’re coming out of the god damn woodwork. They just love these god damn uncolored condiments. They plunk down ten grand just to hear my ass stand at a lectern and natter on about them. Who the fuck knows? Is anybody really happy? Get out of here with these horseshit questions, for Christ’s sake.

DR. GINA TORREZ-KEEBLER, Professor of Gender and Women's Studies, University of Southern Lankville Plains

DR. GINA TORREZ-KEEBLER, Professor of Gender and Women’s Studies, University of Southern Lankville Plains

I don’t care for men who are crude or violent. They may call themselves he-men but as far as I’m concerned, they are merely overgrown juvenile delinquents. The Lankvillian male tends to confuse bad manners, sloppiness and sexual congress with virility. A real man is gentle, kind, effete even. He does not have to go around proving it by cursing, working out with free weights or having intercourse. He can prove it just by putting a single white rose in a vase on a table and creating a lovely, spare tableau or by hanging a fashionable drapery. That’s what interests me and I find men to be most useful for.

Shelley Reports

SHELLEY REPORTS, Economist, Writer

I guess I’m a little on the tubby side– just a little. So, a man would have to accept that. I have a strange, high-pitched voice as well. There’s that. And my feet make an eldritch squeaking noise when I walk. They’ve never been able to figure it out– it doesn’t matter what kind of shoes I wear. I don’t have to be wearing any shoes at all. My feet just squeak. It’s odd. I also don’t have any teeth.

So, I guess I would like a man who is accepting of all those things and still finds me beautiful. I am beautiful, it’s just those problems that I outlined above. I want a man who tells me I’m beautiful and who sends me pre-printed greeting cards that say, “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”. That would be nice.

In terms of what disgusts me? Probably just foreigners.

Woman in a Man’s Game by Robin Brox

November 11, 2014 Leave a comment


Robin Brox is Lankville’s most successful female entrepreneur. She is the founder and CEO of Brox Uncolored Condiments, Inc.

I was sitting in my office at the arena, bored out of my skull.  There was an empty wire trash can and I took it over to the window and dropped it down five stories to the street.  It just missed hitting a suit eating a hot dog.

“YEAH, SHITCUPS!” I yelled as a small crowd gathered.  I found some condiment catalogs nearby and tossed those out too.  The lunch throng had now gathered round, staring up at me.  I suddenly got moist as a muffin downtown, I knew it.

I scanned the suite of third floor offices.  There was an IT guy there– he was a bit wall-eyed but he had big hands.  I shut the door behind me.

“How’d you like to earn yourself a tidy little bonus?” I asked.  “That kind of scratch, you could buy yourself a bunch of those little medieval playcards.”

He liked that.  He was a smart kid.

That kind of scratch, you could buy yourself a bunch of those little medieval playcards.

Condiment set. Shortly after this photo was taken, there was a period of vast confusion and the set was destroyed.

Condiment set. Shortly after this photo was taken, there was a period of vast confusion and the set was destroyed.

Later, I walked down to the cafeteria.  I didn’t like the look of the egg and chicken dish so I went for the mouth hoagie.  A couple of the executives came over and started on business.  One of the assistants leaned over me.

“Ms. Brox, your speech for next week.”  He handed me a folder.

“Yeah?” I said, my chin glistening with a complex potpourri of sauces.  “What’s that about?”

He looked confused.  “It’s…well…it’s a continuation of your series on the essence of uncolored condiments.”

“Let me see you put the folder down your pants.”

“What?…I…”  He went red.

“Go on, put the folder down your pants.  Do a little dance for me.”

He ran out.  I finished the mouth hoagie and left the folder.  Someone’d bring it up.

I went back to the office and ordered a couple of loud sequined kaleidoscope dresses online.  In the comments section I wrote, “MAKE THEM HUG THE HIPS AND ADD THE SHIMMERY BIB”.  I placed the order and went back to the window.  The trash can was gone and someone had cleaned up the catalogs.  I was slightly disappointed.

I’m a woman in a man’s game, alright.

Woman in a Man’s World

February 5, 2014 Leave a comment

By Robin Brox

The Lankville Daily News is lusciously pleased beyond measure to present a new feature by uncolored condiment magnate Robin Brox which will explore issues of gender and diversity in our modern world.

“Fuck you, you stupid Goombah,” I yelled. Then I threw a framed photograph of my mother at the asshole. That’s when he finally backed out of the office.

I picked up the broken photo. “Oh, Mom,” I said. Then I wept.

On the way home, I pulled into a Meyer’s all-night plantain hut. “I know Shane,” I told the cashier. “I own a hockey team in the Pondicherry Association and he used to. Give me one of those plantains in foil and make it free.” The kid looked at me funny, so I hit him square in the jaw. “Like that baby?” He looked up at me from the floor– he liked it. I told him to lock up.

Afterwards, I sped home at a steady 100MPH clip without braking for a single red light. “Fucking cops. Fucking a-number one fuckheads,” I said to no one in particular. I tried the radio. There was a light little number, light little trumpets. “YEAH, SHITTERS,” I yelled. I don’t know what I meant by it but I enjoyed the Christ out of that song.

When I got home, I kicked the front door so it slammed against the inner wall. There was a big hole there now. I noticed a sickly blue light from the otherwise darkened living room. I stumbled towards it.

Tippy was there. “You gonna’ work on your speech?” he said.
“Your mother’s gonna work on my speech,” I offered.
He sighed.  “You gonna’ work on your speech?” he asked again.
“What speech, asshole?” I countered.
“Your speech on the essence of uncolored condiments.”
“Oh, right, that bullshit mouth party. Give me a pen.”

Tippy and I worked for a few hours. Then he put on a program. There were some guys in space that were shooting at some other guys in space. “Look at this conventional jive,” I said. Tippy ignored me and kept watching.

I collapsed on the couch shortly thereafter. I think I threw up in my mouth once but Tippy just bent me over the edge of the couch and let it run out into a pail.

I’m a woman in a man’s world, alright.

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