Trader to My Gender

Let's first get this straight. Women are bad ass.

As Beyonce said, "Strong enough to bear the children / Then get back to business."

I mean, our bodies are engineered to get a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon, so we're pretty well built to handle anything. Especially if you've ever dealt with a man that has a cold and is immediately regressed to an toddler incapable of words and communicating past grunts and whines.

Anyway, here's where I throw vajays under the bus.

I hate female, on-field football reporters.

I can't even call them sportscasters.

OK, Erin Andrews, you're dating George who may or may not be gay, so there's a chance that you're a dude, but I digress.

Case in point, on Sunday, the Broncos took on the 49ers. On the field? A female reporter. Problem with the "reporter"? She chose a color of green that was the same as the blend of four Kentucky Bluegrasses at Invesco. That color may make your skin tone pop! honey, but you look like a floating head.

You need a new stylist, honey.

Now, let's move onto the fake lashes. I get that falsies will help open your eyes, but when you're squinting into the sun, it's lost. And then there's your choice. You're rocking a hybrid Snooki/Kardashian look that only should happen after sundown, on the red carpet, or on the the dirty Jerz shore.

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Now, get off the grass in your stilettos because you're making the grounds keeper cringe at the out of schedule aerating you're doing.

Let's get Tebow off the roster and on the mic. I could watch that all day.