Bloggers Note: Hey peeps. Sorry I've been absent for such a long amount of time. I mean actually it's only been a little under a week but I know you all love me and miss me. So, my humblest of humble apologies. But I've been a busy bee. Traveling and just being really B&I. But I'm back. And I'm bringing something new to YGIU. Pet Peeves. I've got many of them and I'm funny. So why not disect them ALL?!
First up: People who read my magazines before me.
This used to include all reading materials. I used to be really anal and not let people read books before I read them. Which, if you knew how I treated books you'd understand why. In leiu of NEVER having a book mark I always fold the page over. I mean, hey. It's my book right? But I'm over that now. Mainly because I pretty much keep Barnes & Nobel in business (damn member card and eat in Starbucks) and my book shelf is now blinging with unread books. I decided to lend out whatever books to my friends as sort of a screening process. They can read it and tell me if it's worth it or not.
The books that they don't recommend? Well I haven't quite figured out what to do with those yet. Probably should stop by some sort of book stop right? Meh. I'll figure it out.
But. Magazines are a whoooooooooole 'nother ball game entirely.
Basically I've spent so much money on magazine subscriptions over the past, oooh I don't know, fifteen years that I could probably retire by now. Or at least have money for a down payment on a really nice house. I just LOVE magazines. There is nothing that gives me more pleasure in life than when the September Vogue hits my porch. All 12 billion pages of it (honestly, the thing is a weapon). And plopping down on the beach with 5-8 magazines to read? Sheer bliss! Just let me read mine first.
The worst is when you're reading say, an Us Weekly, or an IN Touch for those slightly more thrify readers. And you flip the page and there on the right hand side is a picture of Jessica Simpson wearing the fugliest outfit you've ever seen in your life (think orange overalls with plaid Jimmy Choo's). You gasp in horror and fold the page back so only the offending picture is visible and hold it up to your friend.
"LOOK! CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE SHE IS WEARING SOMETHING SO HEINOUS?!?!"
Your friend launches out of her seat, gets up and wraps her hand around the magazine, wrenching it out of your grip. You realize right then and there that your US Weekly (In Touch) is lost and gone forever. I'm not entirely sure why, when I alert my friends to heinous acts of Clothing 911's they feel that this gives them free reign to suddenly hijack my magazine. The very magazine that I paid $3.29 (or $1.99) for! I mean..."Hola. I was reading that!"
These days when an event such as the aforementioned goes down and my friend goes to put her paws on said 'zine, I put my hand up and say, "Can you just take a look at it and not grab it from me. I'm not done reading it yet." This gets me weird stares and the obligatory eye brow raise but whatever. I get to read it before it gets all crinkly and the pages start detatching from the staple that keeps them all together.
One recent source of magazine angst was this. I was getting Entertainment Weekly at my house. I love EW. I'm sort of a pop culture whore and I love the Hot List and the In, Out and 5 Minutes Ago list. Plus I like when summer comes and they list all of the really good chic lit to go out and buy.
Anyway so it was the Friday of my birthday (May 4th). I arrived home from work and had to rush in change and be ready to head out for some drinky drinks. Since I am the only tennant in my apartment to have a mail box key (apparantly it's a REALLY hard key to reproduce and no one in the greater Boston area has been able to replicate it. Whatever.) I'm responsible for picking up the mail. Our mailboxes are ridiculously small so sometimes the very pleasant postal worker thinks it's OK to throw our mail on the top step. Which is where my EW was the day I came home from work that evening. I saw it but had too much in my hands to reach down and get it. I'll grab it tomorrow morning, I thought to myself.
So Saturday May 5th rolls around and Slut, HLP and myself stumble out of my apartment to head to breakfast. Remembering the EW from the night before I looked to my left to grab it and it was no longer there. Meh. Shana must have grabbed it last night.
I arrive home after breakfast and ask my sister where she put my magazine. "I haven't seen your magazine."
Argh. I had fallen victim to the neighbors who steal your magazines.
The two girls and one guy who live downstairs hate us all because one night, my sister was really smacked out and dropped her 10 pound free weights on the floor. Like five times. They shouted at us to STFU and ever since then barely speak to us and when Christmas time rolls arond they blast their Christmas music with base so insane that my sneakers walk on their own.
They had to be the culprits. The guys who live upstairs are usually too stoned to even grab their own mail. Plus, I highly doubt they're interested in reading that "Deo" is IN. "Antipersperant" is Five Minutes Ago and "Going El Natural" is OUT.
The next day at work I changed my Ship To address to my work address. The same day I also subscribed to People Magazine. (What? Time was having a deal. Oh and did I mention I get professional rates??? Score!)
I was sure this would alleviate my problem. That is until the "HOW THEY LOST 100 POUNDS WITH NO SURGERY" issue dropped.
I had been getting my PM pretty regularly for about three weeks. Then I was in Brooks one day having a Mass Market Shopping black out and I noticed the new PM on the stands. And it was the issue that profiles about 5 or 6 insanely overweight women (I'm talking like 250lbs+) and how they lost the weight by just diet and exersice. No surgery. No drugs. (I'm always suspect of this issue. I've been trying to lose 10 pounds for the past twelve weeks. The most I've indulged on was a slab of banana bread that my mother made and I think I gained a pound. These women start walking for five minutes a day, cut out "sweets" and suddenly their Penelope Effing Cruz? Ya right.)
Anyway. I thought it odd how I hadn't seen it in my mail box since as a subscriber you are usually first to get your 'zine before anyone else (is that even true?) So the next day at work I peeked into my mail box and sure enough it wasn't there. I looked at the receptionist and asked her if she'd seen any PM's for me lying around?
"Nope. But they get the mail on the other side. Maybe you should check over there." (Going to the other side involves like, cardio. I wasn't in the mood. The PM would turn up sooner or later.)
I just looked at her and said, "Well that's interesting considering it's my magazine with my name on it. Why would anyone think they can read it before me. Isn't reading someone else's mail a federal offense anyway?" (What? I was annoyed.)
Well it's a good thing I made a stink. The next day I peeked into my mail box again and there it was. Along with two torn out pages, a ripped cover and two mysterious looking grease/food spots.
Ew.
And, the magazine had hit newsstands two weeks prior. This PM was definitely hijacked. And you know what? This type of thing pisses me off. I'm the one who pays the $72.68 for the damn subscription. And yes. You may think that is too much money but I like having my pop culture, news and shabby chic shopping destinations all in one place.
Burn a calorie (and $3.99) and head to your nearest CVS and buy your own damn People Magazine.
Oh and since the "HOW THEY LOST 100 POUNDS WITH NO SURGERY" debacle. I have not missed one issue.