Women's Magazines

I was recently in line at the local Food Cat (hint: that's what I call the grocery store chain Food Lion), and while I was waiting for the person in front of me to figure out how to operate the credit/debit card scanner and pay for their dozen or so boxes of Hot Pockets, Pizza Rolls and carton of Pediasure (we'll discuss why this person shouldn't have children some other time), I noticed the magazine rack. Nearly anyone who has ever been to a grocery store, supermarket or general store (hell, any kind of store really) before knows what I'm talking about. That little rack filled with stale chewing gum, lighters, candy bars and various flimsy publications.

Only the finest news about Britney Spears for our customers.

Has anyone actually ever really looked, and I mean really looked, at the magazines that are on sale there? Naturally your thoughts jump to those bastions of free press and investigatory journalism like the National Enquirer or Star Magazine. No. Those venerable publications deserve nothing less than our respect, if not admiration for their selfless investigation of the potential links between President Obama and the Lizard People, not to mention letting us know which aging celebrities had an embarrassing day at the beach.

Who are we kidding? Fox News would probably run this story.

No, dear reader. The ludicrous publications of which I speak are those magazines that masquerade as "Women's Magazines". Tripe like Seventeen, Elle and Cosmopolitan. I am unable to understand how or why these ridiculous magazines exist. Allow me to take a step back and declare that this article is not based on any sexist notion about women, or female empowerment, or the capabilities of the lady "journalists" that contribute to these publications. No, I simply cannot understand the how and why of these magazines.

Exhibit A

This is the particular magazine cover that caught my eye. It is the March, 2011 issue of Seventeen Magazine. The fairly attractive (yet still jail-bait!) young lady on the cover is one Miranda Cosgrove. She's best known for her titular (ha, ha! see what I did there?) role in the Disney series iCarly. In addition to wanting "people to see the real me", Miranda will also let you know "Who's talking behind your back?" and how to "Get silky hair and smooth skin with zero effort!" Also, "659 New Ways to Look Cute Now!"

Wait...what?

Are you fucking kidding me? Six hundred and fifty nine new ways to look cute now? Let me break this simple sentence down into three parts, each of which I have trouble believing. 659, new, and now.

First off, the numerical part of the sentence. Six hundred and fifty nine? That's a shit ton of ways! There are only three hundred and sixty five days in a standard year. This magazine promises to give you nearly two tips for every day of the year. And it's only March! God knows how many secrets the editors of Seventeen will divulge in the April publication. At this rate, there could be several thousand ways to "look cute" by the time you end the year.

I've seen how this ends. And it's not pretty.

A quick search of the interweb databases will tell you that Seventeen has been in publication since 1944. 1944? That magazine has been printed on a regular basis for nearly seven decades. It has always been a monthly periodical. Mathematically, that tells us that in some top-secret underground vault there might very well be nearly eight hundred separate issues of Seventeen, all containing numerous tips on how to look cute! This staggering, mind boggling amount of ways to look cute completely overwhelms my level of comprehension.

Also, there are six hundred and fifty nine ways. I don't know which is worse: the thought that there are actually that many ways to look cute but the editors of Seventeen simply have no standards, or that they managed to cut a few of the less fabulous tips. If these tips didn't have to pass any pretense at quality control, how useful are they going to be? If they did, then why pick 659? Why not 600 even? Why not 650? Better yet, why not 666? Because clearly the editors had to make a deal with some sort of demon in order to get access to such a plethora of new ways to look cute now.

"659 new ways to look cute, huh? I'll sign!"

Not to mention that they're all new! Am I wrong in assuming that "new" means "previously un-used"? Perhaps I am. Perhaps in this case "new" simply means that the methods are previously unknown to the girl reading this particular magazine. Because that girl has been living in a fallout shelter for the past sixty years, or has complete amnesia or some shit, and so is unaware of any potential "ways to look cute".

Okay. Even granting these most lenient of circumstances (the odds of which are nearly infinitesimal), that is still a ridiculous amount of information about how to look cute. How have the editors of Seventeen managed to compile this veritable encyclopedia of beauty tips? More importantly, how does this magazine manage to turn a profit if the only people who could realistically benefit from its wisdom are amnesiacs?

"Out of my way! I've got to go buy a new handbag!"

And they promise to work now? I don't expect "now" to mean "instantaneously", I just expect it to mean "quickly". In like a week. Tops. Not next month. Not next year. So that means that all the possible tips exclude any form of serious diet or exercise. So basically, you can't be slimmer or more toned in order to look cute. Except for perhaps getting your hair cut or your nails done, all these proposed tips will only help you out for about one day a week. Unless you're the type of girl who wears the same outfit every day.

I'm looking at you animated girls...

You can see my objections to these women's magazines. Based on these preposterous claims, I have reached two conclusions.

The least likely conclusion that I thought of is that the people who contribute to these magazines are geniuses of the highest caliber. They have not only discovered which shoes make that floral patterned sundress you bought this spring "work", they have also found a way to circumvent the known laws of of our universe. Laughing in the face of what a bunch of frumpy looking physicists think they know about the time/space continuum, the editors of Seventeen Magazine are clearly our intellectual superiors.

Like this, but with a wig. And that goblet is a margarita.

The other possibility is that they are so overtly (nay impossibly!) inane, incompetent and ill-researched (more words starting with the letter "I" that denote outright failure) as to have crossed the line from good to bad, and then back again. This possibility denotes that the people who write, distribute, purchase and read these publications are all massive idiots for believing in the words they see printed on the pages they foolishly purchased.

"So bad it's good" includes Shake Weights and nearly any Steven Seagal film.

Now, far be it for me to limit the spectrum of capability to "masterful omniscience" or "abject stupidity". You can probably decide for yourself. Perhaps you already have. But in any case, I think we can all agree that women's magazines are either falsifiers of information, have no standards, are deluded about the definition of some words, or at the very least are just really, really bad at math.

The previous sentence is not an exaggeration, nor is it a sexist remark. They are seriously just bad at math. They seem to pick numbers at random, like the editors are naturally drawn to high numbers, like a crow to shiny objects.

Allow me to present exhibits B through F. All of these are magazine covers from 2011. I didn't even have to search further back than few months to prove my point. They are listed in descending order of magnitude of numbers.

Do they give out bonuses for higher numbers?

Sometimes they have lists that are sort of believable. Sometimes they manage to create lists that don't reach triple digits. For example, did you know that there are only sixty sex tips available to the editors of Cosmo?

But I'm sure that they're worth reading. Ladies...

But they graciously share all of them with us. Since roughly 73% of the internet is porn-related, I think it is safe to say that there are more than sixty positions, techniques, fetishes, seductions, helpful exercises, dirty talk, foreplay and what have you out there. With a little bit of research, I'm certain that the editors could have given us 1,293 ways to spice up our sex lives.

But they didn't! They picked the sixty (allegedly) best tips to share. Because they care about helping their readers have fulfilling sex lives. They used a system of standards and quality control. They picked an even number. It's still not as reasonable as the "8 easy exercise tips" touted by one magazine, but it's definitely a start.

Sometimes though, they don't even actually know how many tips they have included in this month's issue. Whether that's just sloppy editing or the inability to actually count, I'll let you decide.

"There's, like, lots of tips! OMG!"

Totes.

Life With One Channel, Part Three

My room mate and I have been complaining about only having one television channel for quite some time. If you've read either of the two previous posts about living with only one channel of television, you know that the local NBC affiliate: WITN is quite possibly the worst television channel known to man (and quite possibly women, but the jury is out on the NFL Network).

Soap operas for men.

Recently though, we've noticed a disturbing trend in the morning programing that has somehow escaped our notice until just now. No, it is not the trend that morning television is terrible. Everybody already knows that. What we've noticed is that everyone, and I mean everyone, involved in morning shows on NBC is a fucking alcoholic.

The only coffee they drink is from Dublin.

Seriously though. Every day on the Today Show and whatever show Kathy Lee and Hoda Kotb are on, the hosts get their drink on. By hook or by crook. Here are some choice pieces of alcohol related shenanigans that we've seen in the past month or two.

The most common way that NBC television hosts get their drink on involves the cooking portion of the Today Show. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Surely the cook doesn't provide alcoholic beverages with every meal that they cook." Well they don't.

Well, maybe this guy. How many glasses of wine do you need?

They cook nearly every single meal with some sort of alcohol based marinade, sauce, or just as a main flavor ingredient. One day it's Bananas Foster with dark rum, the next day it's Porter Steak Bits Stew cooked with a couple of beers as the the broth portion. Then it's Chicken Marsala with actual wine. Do you see a pattern here?

But it's not just that the guest chefs love to cook with booze, I'm pretty sure that the hosts encourage it. And they make a big deal about the fact that the recipes use wine or beer, joking (not really) about drinking while cooking. Honestly, I think that they pick the recipes, and if you want to cook on the Today Show you better bring your breathalyzer.

"Welcome back to NBC Studios. You know the drill."

Here are some lines that we've overheard from the various talking heads regarding their all but admitted alcoholism. How NBC hasn't fired Matt Lauer for bonging a beer while interviewing Obama is beyond me. (Disclaimer: Matt Lauer has not to our knowledge ever actually consumed a beer in that fashion while interviewing the president.)

When cooking that Chicken Marsala, Ann Curry asked the chef if he was using real Marsala wine, to which he replied "Of course". She proceeded to grab the entire bottle from him and I quote, say "Well, it's 12:00 somewhere." Ha, ha. Al Roker chuckles in the corner.

Must have been a really rough day. Already.

12:00 somewhere? What the hell is wrong with you lady? You don't even have the decency to say that it's 5:00 somewhere? (Small aside: unless it is actually on the hour, it is not 5:00 somewhere, it is 5:23 somewhere, etc. Thanks time zones.)

Unless you live in Arizona or Indiana, heathens.

Then, when Kathy Lee and Hoda show up for the start of their program, they usually have some sort of beverage sitting on the table that they sip on during their airtime. Every once in a while it's even something that you would consider drinking early in the morning. Like coffee, or orange juice. But most of the time it's a glass of red wine or a bottle of Guinness.

Really? I don't care if you have been up since 3:00 in the morning for hair and make-up, it's still 7:00 in the real world. You might as well brush your teeth with some whiskey or something, get that morning started right.

And who doesn't want this role model?

Well, that morning there was nothing in their coffee mugs/beer steins, and the Today Show had just gotten done cooking some sort of alcohol laden dish and the ladies must have been feeling a little bit left out.

So Kathy turns to Hoda and says, "Nothing to drink this morning, but hope springs eternal." Now, I'm all in favor of poetic expression, and am not a teetotaler, but these people really should at least keep their demons in the closet to be exposed at a later date, preferably on the national stage, much to their embarrassment.

Oh yeah, we went there.

But seriously, NBC really should sit down with Kathy, Hoda, Al and the other people and have a serious discussion about the appropriate decorum for the workplace. A nationally televised workplace at that.

The only kind of intervention that could stop them.

*Update*

Brian Williams of NBC Nightly News apparently recently called out Kathy Lee and Hoda while on air around mid-day. His quote was something along these lines: "If you've watched the morning programing, you know by this point that Kathy Lee and Hoda are usually hammered by now." To which the girls responded that they "haven't even had anything to drink today, yet."

He's not buying it.

And apparently some of the awesome products that they endorse on the show are also centered around getting your drink on. My room mate and I must have missed the first airing of the TV remote equipped with a beer opener.

Combines two of my favorite things: copious buttons and unlabeled beverages.

Guess what? It doesn't stop there. What happens if perhaps you're somewhere where you don't have access to your booze-remote and still need to open a tasty beverage? Bring along the Beer-Bot T-shirt. Now all you need to do is always wear this shirt instead of simply having a bottle opener on your key chain.

Beer-Bot obviously a Bender rip-off. Oh well.

Cat Noises

For anyone who might know my room mate, you probably also know that he is that not so rare combination of a good looking guy and a shameless flirt. However, I'm using the word "flirt" in a rather vague sense of the term. Normal flirting involves things like smiling, making eye contact, physical touch and humor.

Pictured: typical flirting.

My room mate incorporates those things into his game, but his favorite method is the ridiculously over the top flirt. So flirty it's almost not sexy.

Pictured: my room mate flirting.

Cat noised included. Hence the title of this post.

In all seriousness though, his patent pending signature seal of approval is a combination of a growl and a claw hands motion thing. I really can't describe it, but it is quite possibly the most ridiculous expression of interest ever to grace a member of the opposite sex. I'm not going to include any pictures because a google search consisting of any combination of "meow", "growl", "sexy", "claws" or "flirt" came back with retina scarring things that nobody who isn't either Japanese or a complete weirdo would enjoy. Let's just leave it at that.

Horrible, horrible things that can't be unseen.

Seriously. Don't google those terms together unless you're willing to gouge your eyeballs out with the nearest sharpened implement that you can get a hold of.

Now, as a small disclaimer, allow me to once again mention that he can flirt like a normal human being, sometimes he just chooses not to. He's attractive, intelligent, funny, has life experience, and is kind of jerk. All things that ladies go for. In fact, there are only three things that he feels his game really lacks. All of which are summed up by Taylor Lautner.

Really tan skin, tattoos and lots of muscles.

But I don't think he's going to become part Native American any time soon, or even get a tattoo, so the muscles is really all he's going to work on. But those will help him out when he hits on girls whose boyfriends have muscles too. That sentence can be interpreted either as it will make him more attractive or that it will help him avoid an ass kicking. Take it how you want.

Two factors contribute to his ridiculous flirting: his ability to shrug off shame and his natural chemistry with nearly any girl that meets him.

Come on. I quite clearly said "nearly any".

Any time that you're with him and there are girls either nearby or even being discussed, the odds that he will make some sort of unsubtle flirtation range from certainty to inevitability. And no, I don't really know which term means it happens more often. It's just that if the sun rose that morning, he will embarrass you by occasionally not even bothering to do a double take. He might just pause and watch somebody walk by. Then act like nothing happened.

It's almost to the point where I think it could very well be reflexive, like a frog catching a fly.

Or the T-Rex from Jurassic Park.

I can't count the number of times that we've been walking or driving somewhere and his attention is diverted by a girl. He usually makes a comment along the lines of "I want to go to there." And unfortunately for him, fortunately for your amusement, I like to ride with the window down a lot, like a dog. So that means a lot of these girls overhear his comments.

As do their fathers.

If you take him to the mall, or Sam's Club, or wherever you go to find attractive women, be prepared to be embarrassed. He won't be. And you'll laugh nervously as the rest of the store watches him do the cat hands at some hot middle aged woman, then continue shopping for his biscotti like it's no big deal.

*Disclaimer*
The entire store does not actually witness the cat hands, but it feels like they should. Perhaps that's just my natural paranoia/self absorbtion thinking that the entire world is constantly watching me and the people I'm with.

And yes, I wear snappy blazers.

However, much like your average guy, he is naturally intimidated by attractive girls that are complete strangers. So he normally doesn't go up to the girl in the mini skirt and tell her that she can call him Fred Flintstone.

He used to drive a clunker. What did you think I was going to say?

When this happens he points out to whoever is with him that the object of his attraction is indeed a pretty girl, and then he quiets down for a bit as he constructs a first impression and fantasy future based around said girl. Sometimes he'll share fantasy mode with you, but usually only if it's a humorous, over the top vareity.

Frequently involving him dunking.

Recently we were in the student center eating lunch with some friends, and at a table about six feet away there was a very attractive girl sitting across from some guy. The entire table agrees that the girl is disparately more attractive than the guy she was with. Naturally my room mate is intrigued by the girl, and goes into fantasy mode. Since there were three other people at the table, he narrated his over the top ridiculous introduction strategy.

He would just walk up to the table, face-palm the boy into the window and say "What up girl? You can call me T-Woww. That's right, with three W's." The boy starts to say something, so my room mate would turn to him and say, "Don't make me defenestrate you right here and right now." Turns back to the girl and says "Back to you."

Smelly pirate hooker comments optional.

There's no way that strategy could fail... Okay, there's a lot of ways that it could fail, but that's neither here nor there.

Obviously he didn't do that, but it was funny. So we sat there well within ear shot of the two complete strangers alternately debating how old the girl was, if the guy was attractive, if they were dating or not, and making up back story for these two random people. I'm pretty sure that they heard all of what we said, because there were several times the girl looked right at us with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement.

Luckily for those of you who are confused by what the word bemused means, that's exactly what it means.

Congrats!

Don't get the idea that I don't notice or approve of the vast numbers of attractive young women that come along with living in a college town. I notice. I approve. Since I'm not as bold as my room mate I just make use of my peripheral vision and an excellent memory slash imagination.

I feel that if a girl is attractive, and dressed to show that off, she should not be offended when people check her out. But I don't make a show of it. The subtle once over, side glance or general direction gaze ending with eye contact are my weapons of choice.

Also, sunglasses.