Reading It For The Ads

Today was spent at the mall and the movie theater. Two movies today. Two movies to keep us out of the bars and off the streets, Inglorious Basterds and District 9.

But what I'm thinking about is the magazine rack at Barnes and Noble. There was an entire huge display of magazines labeled "Women's Interest". You guessed it...how to have a wedding for only $50,000, how to redecorate your home using baling wire and bubble gum (guest columnist: McGyver), and how to feed your family of 12 on only $3.75 per day.

There was also a "Men's Interest" section. All nine titles: Tits, More Tits, Huge Tits, Monster Tits, Titulation, Titification, Sweater Puppies, TaTas Monthly, and CROTCH-TACULAR!

Now, I'm feeling a bit conflicted here.

Really? Is that what we're really all about? Are there no men interested in things like photography? No women interested in foreign affairs? Don't people generally purchase magazines that interest them personally? Is there no man out there interested in Martha Stewart? (I personally know three men that would tear my eyes out to touch the ratty sleeve of Martha's dirty bathrobe and don't you even look at me that way...you KNOW she pads around her house in socks with holes, chili stains down her v-neck Hanes undershirt, wearing a bathrobe that has served as the birthing mat for seven generations of pug dog puppies.)

But what my real question today was, how does one go about choosing their "Men's Interest" magazines when the covers are mostly covered? Why, there was a fine upstanding gentleman standing right next to me, picking up one skin mag after the other, vacillating on one issue, putting it back, grabbing another, putting it back, grabbing two more and then putting one back. I think I may have made myself a tad obvious when I stood less than three feet away from him, cocking my head from one side to the other, trying to understand his methods. It ran through my mind to lean over to get my ear closer to his crotch as if I were a monkey listening at a termite mound in darkest Africa.

"No....not that one...pick up the next one...nope...no action yet...keep looking...keep looking...wait! I'm picking up some movement!....BINGO!!!! WE HAVE A WINNER!!!!"

He did give me a rather peculiar look when he walked away. I suppose he was wondering why I wasn't reading up on how to lose 50 pounds while baking award winning cookies and having twenty three orgasms a day.

Is it really any wonder that women are better at multitasking?