I have no problem with magazines in general. At least, last time I checked, I was not driving a butcher knife into a sexy cover photo or psychotically tearing out pages with my bared, somehow severely salivating teeth. No, unless it was magazine made entirely of bacon, I would not be driven to such delicious extremes.
Remember how I said I don't have a problem with magazines in general? I don't, but I have a problem with magazines in specific. And I'm not talking about Forbes or Highlights for Kids or Just Labs. I'm talking about something so horrific and misleading that if you read past the first advertisement for creamier skin, men around the globe will be alerted to immediately file lawsuits to sue you for extreme, untreatable penile injury. As a lady who has the ability to read, I'm warning you, you will be penalized for your penile crimes. Yes, I am talking about Lady Magazines and, more specifically, ones that have a ladylike cocktail as their namesake.
I fell into the Cosmo trap before, and since I am a legal woman, I must trust my Intuition (I swear by that razor!) and tell my ladies what I believe is up, girlfran: You may already be well aware, but Cosmo is a steaming cesspool of lies. And not even the good lies that we tell our morbidly obese friends about how great they look in that denim mini.
First, any article titled ""His Bedtime Body Language"" belongs in the trash under a pile of vomit that you should have expelled during the time between you reading that title and putting the magazine in the trash (and if you are concerned about recycling, you can pretend the magazine was frozen and full of pizza grease beforehand so you don't have to feel guilty about trashing it). Please. Ladies. We are better than that. Oh, God. I'm getting so upset and emotional, I think I need to read an article about how to manage my PMS so I can get ahead in the workplace. Here, let me decode the enigma that is his bedtime body language for you: He is either fucking zonked as the day he was shot out from his mother's womb, or there is a boner on your leg. Nothing to decode, unless you are a mossy tree stump. Oh, and Cosmo assumes you are a mossy tree stump. And that you can only possibly be attracted to men. What if I am attracted to bacon? Huh? What then, Cosmo? How do I fucking please my bacon?
How am I supposed to know how to give my bacon a mind-blowing grease job (GJ)?
Here, let me sum up Lady Magazines so that you'll do humanity a favor and never have to read them again.
Sex Q and A
A: Yes, that is what is traditionally called ""herpes.""
Celebs
Everybody is fucking everybody and looking smoking hot doing it. You do not have a glimmer of hope to even bone the shift manager at Starbucks. Read on.
Body
Diet Tips That'll Really Work! Eat paper. But the lowfat, no sodium, organic kind.
Hair
You will never have hair this freaking sleek, and your attempts to try will result in a mousy up-do with a crown of hairspray crust that has less volume than a piece of dry straw in a vacuum.
Sex Tips
NO. NO. NO. Lawsuits. Jail time. New nickname: ""YOUR NAME HERE, the Penis Snapper.""
Relationships
Get your oven mitts on, you're in for a tumultuous and subservient lifetime of no-ammonia cleaner, ginger snaps and soccer practice.
Quizzes
Does He Think You Are A Psychotic, Possessive Bitch? Yes.
If you are one of those rare baconsexuals, please e-mail VP at evanpay@wisc.edu and we can share our frustration.
