Inside the mind of a renegade girl writer who isn’t going to play by a set of arbitrary rules dictated by men in carpeted corner offices

Every other Tuesday, Gawker has a pitch meeting. It’s generally a horror show for me, due to the fact that I never have enough time to comb my eyebrows before we hop on Zoom, and because nobody EVER takes me seriously around here.

Oh, I’m some big joke to you all, even though I have a master’s degree in writing and went to Iceland in 2012 before it became bourgeois? My ideas are good, but because I’m low-key about my genius and because I’m a woman, I’ve never once had a pitch approved (basically). The fat cats in suits who run this site keep making me write about the Queen of England, and I barely even know who she is!

Here’s one example of the toxic hypocrisy and profound disrespect that sum up my pitch approval process: In November 2021, I pitched an article about hot fruit that got immediately shut down. It made it into my rejected Thanksgiving pitch round up. This is what I proposed:

Well, well, well, wouldn’t you know? Just last week, Gawker ran an article called “No Hot Fruit,” written by a MAN (the lovely Nicholas Russell), and one who lives in Las Vegas, no less. I am using this as proof that Gawker — and especially the 11 women who work here — are sexist.

But I will not tolerate this crock of bullshit any longer. Writing to you from my nest of rebellion (a.k.a. I was allowed off the leash for once due to a slow news day immediately before a long weekend), here are some of my best rejected pitches on the last day of summer:

Unlikely Fashion Icon who is not hot enough for him

OK computer: “claire carusillo kissing brad pitt”

If anyone at Jezebel, Vulture, or Semafor is reading: please help! I am available to turn these well-researched and rock-solid mindgems into smash hits for your website.