* niqui is *so* *glad* she has this copy of Cosmopolitan to impart groundbreaking fashion advice to her: “Excess caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol disturb your sleep and contribute to a sallow, washed-out appearance!”
* twork channels mick jagger: well tha’s the ‘ole point, i’nnit?
also, according to cosmo, boxers are for high school students and briefs are for the … what was it, again? “skeevy.” but boxer-briefs are for real men.
* niqui is glad she has cosmo to tell her her opinions.
* twork does wonder why niqui is reading cosmo.
* twork was pretty sure niqui was already chock full of opinions.
* niqui is offended to learn that having hot pink in one’s hair is ‘skanky,’ and thus by association niqui is.
three cheers for skank!
ooooh. there’s a survey in back. they invite my feedback!
bah! they do not give me free space to write in.
they want your feedback, not your opinions!
cosmo:/dev/opinion is read-only!
* niqui was sorely mistaken about how interesting she thought she might find cosmo. i thought it was at least supposed to be slightly mature. it’s actually really sophomoric. i guess i can maybe excuse letters to the editor referring to things as ‘the mark of skankdom,’ but i really think that a professional fashion journalist might be able to find better phrasing.
well, consider the subject. we don’t exactly expect pullitzer-level reporting on the sports page either.
also, someone give paris hilton a fucking cheeseburger.

a few months ago i was randomly buying stuff online and ran across a ridiculously discounted subscription to cosmopolitan. since at that time i was rediscovering the joys of dressing in other ways than my ubiquitous baggy geek t-shirt + jeans, i thought it might be useful to subscribe to a fairly well-circulated fashion magazine so i can keep up with the joneses (at least in my head). and, if nothing else, there’s always the quiz.

how wrong i was.

my first issue came just before i went to defcon, so i slipped it in my carry-on. fortunately, my outward flight went smoothly and i spent the time reading novels. unfortunately, my return flight was Hell, and while i was stuck on the plane, on the tarmac, for three hours, with electronic devices — such as my e-book reading CliĆ© — forbidden, all i had was that issue of cosmo.

in about ten minutes i was ready to start hacking people to death with the little fly-away subscription cards that fell out of it, just to have something to do other than read the magazine.

it truly is the most awful rag. i thought that cosmo was well-read because it was … hmm. because it was classy? it’s not classy. it’s not sophisticated. and it wouldn’t know elegant if elegance served it a cocktail. the only thing that saves it from being absolutely tacky is the fact that it reads like it’s written by fourteen year old girls who just don’t know any better.

also, those hot-pink zebra print stilettos on page 107 are in no way hot.