A few weeks ago, my friend Jamie introduced me to the Daily Mail’s website, which is basically the best thing that exists online. Here’s a round-up of some of today’s headlines after a cursory glance at the homepage:
- “The runaway migrant bride: Jamaican dumps new husband 20 MINUTES after arriving at his UK home”
- “Why human-like robots are so creepy to watch (they spark conflict in our brains)”
- “Catherine Zeta-Jones cuts a colourful appearance in a psychadelic kaftan as she hits St Tropez with Michael Douglas”
- “Parisian politician’s wife ‘dressed as catwoman and hid with gun outside flat to kill husband’”
Honestly tell me you don’t want to read these articles, and I will remind you that you’re not my friend.
The best thing about the Daily Mail is that it’s text-light, and extremely image-heavy. You know how normal gossip blogs, like Gofugyourself and Dlisted, show only a few images of a celebrity’s outfit at an event? You’re like, ok, I’m not sure I like Kate Moss’ wedding dress, I wish I could see like 80 more angles of it to make a final judgment call? Also, I kind of need to know what she wore to her rehearsal dinner, and oh yeah, who was the prettiest of her 15 bridesmaids??
The Daily Mail will give you everything you want, and more. It is fucking awesome.
Anykatemossnipple, I was meandering around the homepage, looking for someone worthy to make my Icon, when I stumbled upon these images of Wendi Murdoch beating down the guy who threw a shaving cream pie in Rupert’s face today at his parliamentary hearing.
And I thought to myself, “Now this is a bitch I can look up to.”
Wendi Murdoch has always been on the periphery of my radar. I knew that she was an Asian, and I knew that she smart, and I knew that she liked things that smell like hemorrhoid cream.
But I didn’t know that she could throw down like she was half way through a bottle of vodka, tearing a bitch’s weave off in the Bad Girl’s Club.
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me much, as Wendi Murdoch is not only Chinese, but also a fucking ball buster.
She was born Wenge Deng in Jinan, Shangdong, China. At the age of 16, she enrolled at Guangzhou Medical College. Then she met this American couple, the Cherries, who offered to take her to America, and she said to her countrymen, “Later fools! I’m off to the Land of Unseen Opportunities.”
Upon arrival, she enrolled at Cal State, where she graduated in the top 1% of her class, and then, bewilderingly, she went to Yale University business school, which is the most disappointing graduate program in all of the Ivy League.
While living with the Cherry family, she started sleeping with the Mister, a man 30 years her senior. When Mrs. Cherry found out, she kicked them both out of the house.
Wendy promptly married Mr. Cherry, who found out that she was having an affair with ANOTHER man named David Wolf. Cherry was like, “This makes me suffer, you’re a hot piece of ass, but I must leave you, and Wendi was like, “Whatever bitch, I only married you for a green card. Later.”
(All of the above dialogue is probably fabricated. Emphasis on the probably.)
Then, in 1997, Wendi met Murdoch at a Newscorp Party in Hong Kong, and their fairy tale story began.
In 1999, three weeks after Rupert divorced his second wife, Anna Maria Torv Murdoch Mann, he married Wendi.
In other words, he traded in for a younger model, and by doing so, became the new gold standard on the Wendi exchange. She was like, “Do you know how long I’ve been trading copper for you? Now I own 20% of your economy.” And he was like, “I’m 68, but let’s try this Viagra thing, and see if we can make some babies.”
Today, they have two daughters, Grace and Chloe, who are just about the most adorable girls ever to exist.
For you, Wendi Murdoch. For defending your husband like a tiger, which is actually really nice of you, because he is very old. For loving him.
For doing what it takes to become an American citizen. For being hotter than Melania Trump, and for fucking the elderly in the prime of your youth (I’m even more into you if it’s a fetish thing). For being bff with Nicole Kidman.
For ball gowns and society events and playing your hand in life with breathless alacrity. For being one fierce bitch. For getting more and more beautiful with age. For you, Wendi Murdoch, you’re my icon of the week.