This Week in Women: Oprah, ex-wives, and more

Every Friday I swing by Guyism to lend my expertise on the topic of women in a wrap up of the dumb things they’ve done in the news. This week I’m calling out the queen bee herself, Ms. Oprah Winfrey, as well as a few other bitches who don’t know how to act.

Selfish Bitch of the Week: Oprah
Yeah that’s right, I said it. Oprah had her final show this week, after months of anticipation and rumors about what over-the-top stunt she’d pull… and all she did was stand there and talk for an hour. If I were in that audience, I would’ve stood up and walked out after the opening sentence about there being no surprises. The way I see it, if you’re going to build your empire on grandeur and oh-no-she-didn’t’s, you owe it to your fans to bust out the big guns for your final show. I want to leave that studio with keys to a new car filled with enough gas to drive me to my new 15,000 square-foot mansion in Belize.

And to those of you who will argue that it was a classy exit and you cried over her vulnerability: congratulations. You bought it. You sat through an hour of a woman who doesn’t even know you exist reading carefully worded cue cards of self-praise in a belted pink burlap sack. Grab yourself an O magazine, throw on her shiny new television channel, and realize you got duped. Bitch ain’t going anywhere.

Bandwagon Bitch of the Week: Gigi Goyette
This former child actress came forward this week and said that she, too, had an extramarital affair with the Governator. Gasp. But how convenient that this also landed her a prime time feature on Extra? I mean, has anyone even heard of this broad before now? I could be wrong. Maybe Rusty: A Dog’s Tale is a huge cult classic and I’m just not up on my 90’s films. But I’m thinking it’s far more likely that Gigi was jonesin’ for a little more time in the spotlight and saw an opportunity to cash in.

Even if her story is true and Ahnold turns out to have more in common with Tiger Woods than a confusing ethnic background, you’ve gotta love Gigi’s description of her first sexual encounter with him at the age of 16: “It’s pretty much the first time I had sex with anybody in my life.” Oh. Pretty much. What a perfectly contrived way to dance around the fact that you were bangin’ dudes out before you even had a learner’s permit. You just know this bitch was trotting around Malibu in the 70s telling aspiring actors and amateur body builders she was a virgin like some scene out of Wedding Crashers. Sorry, Arnold; she fouuund youuu!

Bitch ends the interview with an apology to Maria, saying “I am very sorry… for being intimate with your husband, and I would hope that you would forgive me for that.” She’d probably be more apt to do so if you didn’t just kick her while she’s down with a story about how her husband likes it rough on national television. Just saying.

Ex-Wife Bitch of the Week: Blanca Rodríguez de Pérez
The wife of deceased former president of Venezuela Carlos Andrés Pérez is still fighting with his long-time mistress, six months later, over where to bury his body. Give it up, lady. You’d think the fact that he lived with his side dish in a completely different country for the last years of his life would be enough to drive the point home that you probably weren’t too in-tune with what he likes. I know you think this is your last chance to stake your claim as his wifey, but I think it’s time to throw in the towel. He’s been decomposing above ground somewhere for half a year while you meddle your way into his last wishes. Just give the poor dude a grave already so he can turn over in it.

Bitchy Politician of the Week: Jennifer Seelig
This Utah State Representative sponsored a bill that was passed into law this week expanding the definition of solicitation to include “any person who indicates through lewd acts, such as exposing or touching themselves, that they intend to exchange sex for money.” You’re crossing the line into some pretty grey territory, Seelig. Let’s say I get a few shots of Jamo in me and get pretty lewd over a heated game of beer pong. Given the fact that I’d gladly accept a dude’s offer to take me out to dinner before we knock hypothetical boots, am I a hooker? Or I’m out at a club when some Chris Breezy comes on, and, whilst shaking my shit, my hand accidentally grazes my boob. An overzealous onlooker buys my table another bottle of Goose and my over-powered beer goggles convince me to schedule an adult sleepover. Am I going to jail?

I guess it’s all sort of irrelevant, since we’re talking about a state I’d never party in. All it means is that now you literally couldn’t pay me to sleep with a guy from Utah.

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