Either the poor person chained to the wall in the basement of Jane Magazine who licks the address lables and keeps the subscribers in order has messed up, or someone hates me (or thinks I need it) and keeps resubscribing me and paying for it, but I keep getting Jane magazine.


I've been getting it for over a year now.


Perhaps I sleepwalked and I subscribed myself, but I doubt it. Regardless, I now have this magazine coming to my house once a month. Goodie for me.


Now, I'm not saying it's bad (awful, trash, drivvle) because I'm sure someone out there likes it. Every once in a while I like something in it too, but it is deffinatly not something I'd pay (a dime! cough) for. I don't care who the biggest hollywood sex fiend is, or tips to make my hair more sexy, or what the worst insult someone heard about makeup ever was.

Between the downtown department store purfume counter like smell that permeates the air the momment you open the bag (it comes in a bag, why you ask? To keep all the advertisments in, because you know you'll weep if the latest advert for 'Chanel' or 'Glamour' falls out on to the street and gets footie prints on it's holy surface.) thanks to the 30 some odd samples stuffed inside like an overdone thanksgiving turkey, and the aforementioned in the ()'s advertisments for everything from sanitary napkins to 'J-Lo's scent', I feel like I'm stuck in some scary Tommy-Girl billboard riddled world and can't get out.


Yes, I admit, every once in a while something slightly amusing is inside, but deep down I just can't bring myself to justify that it makes it worth the money.


Oh well, at least I have extra litter box liner now.