Men consume chips with a vigor reserved for those who have never feared for their safety on an open-air bridge; who have never thought their right to vote could be revoked as a clerical error because they got too shouty in the SoHo Apple store; who don’t know what it feels like to scream at their skin until it absorbs 100 layers of serum out of sheer submission.

On a recent episode of the Freakonomics podcast, PepsiCo CEO Indra Nooyi said the company’s noticed as much. “As you watch a lot of the young guys eat chips, they love their Doritos, and they lick their fingers with great glee, and when they reach the bottom of the bag they pour the little broken pieces into their mouth, because they don’t want to lose that taste,” she said.

“Women I think would love to do the same, but they don’t. They don’t like to crunch too loudly in public. And they don’t lick their fingers generously and they don’t like to pour the little broken pieces and the flavor into their mouth.”

Well, of course! I would never lick my fingers in a public place, lest I be sent to a work camp for sexually enthusiastic girls. Nor would I open my mouth wide enough to fit the opening of a chips bag comfortably inside, because I’m not sure I want my coworkers and fellow bus-riders to know that I can, lest they think it is their right to toss a marble or something else into it, for a game.

Nooyi continues: “Are there snacks for women that can be designed and packaged differently? Yes, we are looking at it, and we’re getting ready to launch a bunch of them soon.” Oooh, please please please, PepsiCo, answer my many fan mail requests for a snack that looks like a Frito but tastes like blood and feels like a broken champagne flute!!!

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But she says she has planned: “For women, low-crunch, the full taste profile, not have so much for the flavor stick on the fingers, and how can you put it in a purse?” And probably four dollars more expensive.

I don’t know what kind of women work at PepsiCo—women with no teeth, fingers like fly paper, tiny little purses that can only fit one taser and a small tube of Lifesaver gummies? But I do know what kind of women work at Jezebel—teeth filed into tiny daggers, no tongues, fingers like angel hair pasta, incapable of holding a purse because of a legal incident that occurred in the late ’90s, please don’t ask. Tell us, Ms. Nooyi, what do you have planned for us?!