Tag Archives: magazines

Magazine chuckles.

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I have stacks and stacks of free magazines I have yet to read. ( If you’re interested let me know, I’ll hook you up.)

Here are a few articles that got my attention.

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Online reviews of our National Parks. Proof positive people are idiots.

Although it’s hard to argue with ‘a very very large hole’ for the Grand Canyon.

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Thank you, no.

A month ago they were pushing mermaid shampoo and that was bad enough.

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Avocado pudding?

I’d rather eat kale stuffed meatless meatballs.

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I think I’ve mentioned my hatred of dolls and all things doll like. But a museum filled with uber creepy antique ones?

Now that’s a blog worth writing.

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Llamapalooza?

I am so down with that!

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Kind of underwhelming?

We visited Plymouth last fall and saw this oh so famous rock.

Kind of is the understatement of the year.

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Cosmo-what?

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#2 in the series of ‘I’m definitely not young and single anymore’. Otherwise known as Cosmopolitan magazine highlights.

Or lowlights, you decide.

Gentlemen?

You’ve been warned.

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First up, a strawberry vagina.

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Magical?

Yeah, I must be doing something wrong. And because there are probably other women like me?

Products.

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Am I surprised they are named Honey Pot and Fur?

At this point, I am not.

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This explains a lot about the current generation. I enjoyed moving out of my parents house, but maybe that was just me.

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What brownie abomination is this?

No. Just…. no.

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Wow. And I thought breaking up via text was bad….

Finally there was this:

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Strategically placed mirror aside…. FaceTiming your gynecologist? I’m beginning to relish the fact I’m not in my twenties anymore.

P.S. … don’t be surprised when that cat starts having nightmares.

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Clearly it’s been a long time…

 

As you know, I am not a 25 year old single woman….  (Please refrain from commenting if you value our friendship)  so it’s been a while since I leafed through a Cosmopolitan magazine. But for some reason a girlfriend gifted me a subscription, and I felt I needed to honor the gesture.

 

 

Hmm.

My hair removal routine is neither adventurous nor worth writing about, and as for the scale….. I’m afraid my hairless cat level will have to remain a mystery. I like my readers, but not that much.

 

 

And how do they know walking burrito wasn’t the look I was going for?

Fashion is personal…. and I happen to have the perfect black bean earrings to match, so there!

 

 

The selfie wasn’t around when I was young and single, so this may be a day late and a dollar short… but here goes.

 

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Okay, so maybe I need a little more practice.

 

 

What kind of noodle am I?

Yes…. I’m beginning to remember why I stopped reading Cosmo in the first place.

(In case you’re wondering? Rigatoni baby.)

I found this issue to be so utterly ridiculous, I may have to make it a monthly series. And if you’re groaning now?

Just be thankful I didn’t share all the articles today.

 

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Yes, it’s clearly been a while since I read single women’s magazines.

 

Should I be worried?

 

As a rule, my husband is not a reader.

At work he has to read dry as dust government documents and regulations all day long …. so for relaxation at home? It’s usually mindless television.

He does however keep a steady supply of magazines for perusing while on the throne.

And since my late aunt ran a department at Time/Life, Time magazine has always been a staple.

My question is….

 

 

Should I be worried by what he’s reading this week?

 

Move over Dear Abby….

 

There’s a new kid in town.

( Alright, an old new kid )

Rolling Stone magazine has finally added an advice column and it’s authored by, of all people….  David Crosby.

 

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You remember David Crosby…. from Crosby, Stills and Nash?  ( and Young, if you’re old enough ).

Yes, he’s still alive.

 

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And honestly doesn’t look that much different 49 years later.

 

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I’ve always been a huge CSN ( & Y ) fan …. and I think I’m going to enjoy his no nonsense approach to advice columns as well.

 

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So check out the inaugural outing….

 

Oh, Oprah.

 

Last week I was doing what I love most in the world,  kicking back with an ice cold margarita while being hand fed tasty morsels by Bradley Cooper,  waiting in an urgent care clinic for my SIL who I agreed to drive there.

** Warning for male readers – this post is going to go south about halfway through. Literally and figuratively. **

Medical facility waiting rooms are my least favorite place in the world. Crowded, obnoxiously loud, human petri dishes. Breeding grounds for the passage of whatever plague is currently circulating. Worried about mad cow disease or the bird flu? Forget the barnyard…. you’ll catch it here. Had I owned a bio hazard suit, I would have worn it proudly. With triple duct tape at the joints.

 

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As I was sitting in an unobtrusive corner trying not to breath, I realized my phone had died and I was at the mercy of the magazine rack. (Not reading is out of the question. Someone might want to start up a conversation and that’s entirely too much close contact when you’re trapped in a disease ridden incubator from Hell.)

As you know, medical waiting room magazine racks are filled with riveting copies of  Breast Feeding Monthly, How to Avoid Herpes newsletters and Let’s Identify that Secretion Digest.

I figured Oprah’s magazine would be the least revolting choice and grabbed her new issue.

 

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Oh, Oprah…

( Now would be a good time to point out that I detest women’s magazines in general. I have never needed to know how to bake a better bundt, why the soles of my feet are making me unhappy or what to do if my husband is cheating on me with my mother. )

And Hell, I didn’t even get past Oprah’s cover before I was rolling my eyes.

 

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While I have a girlfriend whose husband thinks hers has been on vacation since 2006…

I was guessing this article wasn’t about sex and shuddered to think about the tips hidden inside.

 

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I’d rather you didn’t, but thanks all the same.

The teaser didn’t bode well.

 

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And it made me wonder how mine has survived all these summers without the benefit of expert advice.

 

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There…

Now that’s advice you can use.

I refuse to go into detail about the article, but will post a picture of it for anyone who’s interested.

 

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In a nutshell? Treat Her Right.

Remember..

You heard it here first.