I’ve got all these horrid fashion magazines at home. Not Vogue even, Glamour and InStyle and crap. I hate them hate them hate them, especially because I read them so voraciously. They’re from McCallum street (used books) so I’m reading mags from random years as well. They’re interchangeable. There must be (are) so many moving parts in a woman, so many things to tone and buy and accessorize for things to be just right. And I suppose they never are. The amount of pseudo-science and lists and fears and dears is mind boggling, mind boggling I say. Especially when I’m feel like I can condense all of it in a few sentences.

1. Here’s a hot sex tip. Give him a blowjob. No candles, no ice, no chocolate, just give him a fucking blowjob. If they printed only this women would be much more successful and men far less baffled by foodstuffs and random theatrics in bed
2. You probably are fat, maybe you should lose weight. There are plastic surgeons listed at the back
3. [Insert celebrity here] is surprisingly normal and disarming
4. Adjusting levels of this [nutrient/food/activity] will [cause/prevent] cancer… if you’re a lab rat and that’s all they feed you for a month. If you’re human it’s pretty much up to chance. Don’t smoke so much.
5. If you buy more expensive clothes maybe you can land guys with more money, though it’s really more vice versa.
6. If you want to land a man, refer point one.

Posted on Thursday, June 26th, 2008 in Design.