I’ve been reading magazines a long time and there are some that I’ve gotten too old to enjoy (Seventeen) and some that just aren’t as funny to me today as they were when I was a kid (MAD) — but never in my life have I picked up a magazine and been so alarmed at how little it actually interested me than I was today when I picked up the latest copy of Cosmo. I bought a $5 subscription to Cosmopolitan through Amazon a while ago because shit it was FIVE DOLLARS what was I supposed to do? and the first issue came a few weeks ago but I’ve been a little too busy having a life to read it and finally got around to it this morning and as soon as I opened it I was all “JESUS CHRIST ON A BISCUIT WHEN DID I GO FROM COSMO GIRL TO THE FUCKING FAMILY CIRCLE LADY?!?!?!”
It’s like I don’t even know myself anymore.
Have you read Cosmo lately? Easily half the articles deal with finding-or-snagging-or-pleasing the ideal man. Clearly I am NOT the demographic here. I found my man nearly 20 years ago by questionable luck and he was far from ideal (sadly, we have not made any great strides in this area). Still, I loved him desperately and somehow managed to “snag” him by acting on instinct alone, without even a single tip from Cosmo in the proper application of my “feminine wiles” (which, let’s face it, is really just codeword for being slutty).
Also, I’ve pretty much spent all my time since “snagging” him being totally uninterested in “pleasing” him. Truth be told, sometimes I spend entire days constructing elaborate plans to make sure that he is NOT pleased, just for my own sick entertainment. (This is absolutely true.)
For the record he, too, often behaves like a total assmaggot, regularly driving me to the brink of raving lunacy and laughing hysterically as I try desperately not to lose my shit and set him on fire. So it’s a nice balance. For this reason we’ve continued to tolerate each other’s jackassiness and after years of valiantly not murdering each other we’ve settled nicely into our own little world where loud farts, smelly burps and acting a fool are not only accepted, but in many cases encouraged.
But I digress.
A few more indicators that I am no longer the target audience for this particular magazine:
I live in a small house and this should be the perfect article for me but honestly
all I can see when I look at this page is the crayon and paint and slobber and
dog hair and pee and god knows what else that would cover all that white
in mere days minutes.
Pretty sure the Big Bean would agree that, for me,
this is the time when my paycheck hits the account.
Or any time when I’m not fucking with his head, just in general.
You know, like when I’m sleeping and at work and stuff.
At the same time I picked up my subscription of Cosmo, I also signed up for Redbook. (We can chalk this up as another totally-don’t-need-it-but-it’s-only-$5 purchase.) It only took one look at the cover to know that this is WAY MORE MY SPEED.
Fuck you, Cosmo. Redbook wins.Stumble it!