I THOUGHT that Liz might want to be waxed to remove the white hair in a number of places . . . thank you! I've been looking for similar things to develop in the sparse remains of my personal thicket. It is only a matter of time; the eyebrows are going that way . . .
I know that Liz regards it as a breach of her human rights to be asked to put her bag on the floor at any point, which mystifies me a bit: the point of a bag--one point, at least--is that it protects things inside from dirt. She objects to putting it down when she goes through security at an airport (or claims she does); when it's time for takeoff or landing, does she insist on it having its own seat, fiercely hold it in her lap, or shove it under the seat in front of her WHERE ICKY PEOPLE MIGHT HAVE PUT THEIR FEET??? I suspect the latter, and I suspect that she doesn't actually make a fuss about it. But then I suspect that a lot of her outrage is manufactured.
If Liz behaves the way she claims to, she really wouldn't be able to travel in trains or planes. At the very least, people would pull out their phones and make videos of her tirades towards flight assistants, security people, and fellow passengers, and they'd go viral within hours. That's what happens when someone decides to lose it big-time in public, especially if a celebrity or person who thinks she's a celebrity goes berserk. (Either that or someone punches the human cesspool who behaves this way.)
I think these episodes when brave campaigning "feminist" Liz rips holes into other people are the wishful thinking of a truly nasty piece of work, And if Liz is a feminist, we are all one-legged pirates wearing eye patches. She just doesn't have the qualifications, any more than I have an eye patch and a parrot.
Liz, if by some strange chance you are reading this, not that we believe she'd check anything here: if you're traveling and your bag needs an extra seat to its little old lonesome, well heavens, why would you plant it on a seat next to yourself, a seat where a small child in a diaper might once have sat, for all you know?? I mean, think about it!! Here's a solution: take two large plastic bags you've carried clothes home from a shop in, preferably ones that say "Prada" on the side. Place your handbag inside of one. There you go! You can put it on the floor! Your holy bag is protected!!
Take the other, place it over your head, and ask your seatmate to twist the opening closed as tightly as he or she possibly can. There you go! You won't have to breathe the nasty old air that other people may have had in their icky male, maternal, or feral child lungs!!