I woke up without an alarm before 8 am, (as i have every day this week)

to a cold grey day and a sick roommate. It started to rain as I started to

wake up. Not a huge fan of the chilly wet outdoors, I grabbed a free

magazine from the coffee shop downstairs and sat down in my armchair

to read it.

It being an art magazine from NY, I had higher hopes for it than I realize

I should have, as certain articles (in fact, all of the articles) both made me

want to puke and made me want to avoid ever living in New York City

again, unless I want to lose all of my dignity, party hopping and hailing

cabs because I can't walk anywhere in my poorly tailored thrift-store

mini skirt and 4 inch stiletto heeled boots, talking about how I can no

longer afford to pay rent and maybe I should just move to London and

live in a squat because I have spent all of my money making my hair look

like I just got out of a bed that is probably not my own.

The magazine wrapped up with a page of mail-in requests for advice on

how to turn down party invitations, how much PDA is socially acceptable,

and how to have more energy during the day while not compromising

your four nights a week of drinking jagerbombs after your 9-5 job.

The highlights:

and, really, could it be true?

I feel less fulfilled than if I had just read the Onion cover to cover.