A Dayquil-Induced Rant Against Pretentious Food Porn Magazines (Mainly, Saveur)

I was deathly ill last week. I was fairly certain it was the summer plague or typhoid. I’m not sure. My guess was walking pneumonia, but I’ll admit I tend to be a bit dramatic on these issues sometimes.

It started with a sore throat, some harmless coughing. Then, over the course of the next couple of days, it hit all the stages of grossness—stuffed up nose, phlegmatic cough, painful throat and ear canals and general miserableness.

I moved downstairs to the couch (in an effort to save XFE from both catching my disease and losing sleep from my coughing). And during those many long nights and days alone ensconced in my couch, drenched in Vick’s Vap-O-Rub, drinking cup after cup of Throat Coat (ok, and a hot toddy or two) and hopped up on various cold medicines, I had a lot of time to think about life’s mysteries and how precious good health is, and most importantly, the state of our household magazine subscriptions.

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Continue reading A Dayquil-Induced Rant Against Pretentious Food Porn Magazines (Mainly, Saveur)

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Does Anyone Know How I Can Subscribe to ‘Less?’

This is what I came home to today:

Act my age? What the hell does that mean? I’m 40. What am I supposed to be acting like? Seriously? What is a 40 year old supposed to be acting like? As far as I know, I am in fact acting my age. As a marketing ploy, so far, I’m not on board.

This was the back of the envelope. What do I want to be when I grow up? Hell if I know! And, I’m sorry, but is that Kendra Wilkenson, former bedmate of that old fogey, Hugh Hefner? Now bedmate of some football player and tabloid favorite/E! personality? I’m not really planning to take any advice from her except maybe advice on the best double-sided tape to keep your bathing suit in place.

I’m not really familiar with More Magazine. According to their website, this magazine, “Celebrates women of style and substance with articles on style, health, work, spirituality and relationships.”

Basically, a bunch of stuff I’m not really interested in reading about.

Here are some of the women they used in the materials inside the envelope:

Kyra Sedgewick: Age 46

Diane Lane: Age 47

Jodi Foster: Age 49

Jeanne Triplehorn: Age 49

All of these women are years older than me! I am not your target audience, More Magazine!

Here’s how the letter starts (after the “Dear Friend” greeting)

I have a confession to make….I still feel like I’m 25.

Guess what? I don’t. I wouldn’t want to go back to 25 for all the tea in China. (What a dumb saying, by the way. I mean, I like tea, but I’m not lusting for shiploads of it or anything). Back to my main point, 25 sucked. 40 isn’t exactly a picnic, but in now way do I put 25 on some pedestal either.

Basically, I don’t think about “what age I feel.” It’s ridiculous.

I’m especially not interested at all in a feature called “Second Acts,” featuring women “fulfilling or pursuing a dream in midlife.” Ugh. My midlife dream is to not be subjected to phrases like “dream in midlife.”

I know this is all meant to be reassuring. “Don’t worry. You’re still vibrant and needed.” But it’s really kind of demoralizing. Just when you think aging is no big deal, these guys swoop in and tell you it is actually a big deal, requiring it’s very own magazine, but don’t worry, we still find you valuable. For the price of a subscription.

What will I find in the mail next? A catalog from As We Change?