The Coworkers' Revenge

I thought a Sarong and a Sari were the same thing ... apparently not, and I'm so wrong and sorry.

Something terrible happened the other day. It was absolutely, horribly horrible. Its a day that historians will ponder about what happened. Psychologists will wonder about what let up to that horrific event. And my future psychiatrists will be able to trace everything back to one fateful day ...

The day I was reduced to reading O Magazine.

Sure, it doesn't seem that bad to you. But I had majorly avoided this for a good long while. I had read every Time and Newsweek. I read all of the Sports Weeks. I even found all of the hidden pictures in Highlights. But finally, there were only two things left: O and National Geographic. Sadly, O had to be the one, since there was no way in hell I was going to learn something while at work! I go to school at night for that crap.

It was awful. Patients politely waited to leave my office before giggling. Co-workers openly pointed and laughed. Co-workers laugh because I generally revel in the fact that I have nothing to do. They tell me about how nice it must be, and generally I agree. O Magazine was to be their revenge. I sat quietly in my office and began to read.

Now reading women's magazines isn't really anything new to me. A friend of mine in high school would get Cosmo and she would read it. Then she would ask me if guys really liked that (Yes, we like to give oral sex. No, don't stick a finger in our butt when we orgasm). It was brilliant, and I got answers when I read Maxim.

So, I was reading. Dr. Phil of course had something to say about how women should feel about Bachelor Parties (it couldn't be more obvious that man was just bitter he didn't get one). Someone did an article on 3 doctor-approved crash diets (which had mysteriously vanished from the pages ... apparently somebody took it upon themselves to take it and deprive the rest of us from the glorious diets!). There were articles on being the best you, accepting your life as it is, letting go of past hurts, and saying sorry 101.

Upon reading these I discovered the main difference between men's and women's magazines. Where men's magazines tell you what and how to do stuff, the women's magazines tell you what, how, and why. It's like men don't give a crap about why to do stuff, we just do it. The women apparently need to have a reason to do the stuff. It was true in O. And it was true in Cosmo. Where a men's magazine would say "Give her the best sex she's had," a women's magazine would say, "Give hime the best sex he's had so he'll tell his friends." Or something to that effect.
Then came the article about how Men really feel about their bodies. Actually a well written article by the former editor of Men's Health. Now it was pretty obvious why this article never made it into Men's Health. It featured a 215lb, chubby white guy talking about how he felt about his flabby arms and love handles. Men's Health last month was all about Tiki Barber and how he got his great abs (I know this cause I read it ... under all my flab are some great abs ... they are just camoflaged ... really well). The only problem with this article is that it basically tells our secret. Secretly, guys do care about how they look. We get frustrated if we don't look exactly right, and then we get frustrated cause we know we are not supposed to think that. We are guys and not supposed to care about stuff like that. Damn that Oprah woman!

All of these from the creative genius that named her production company Harpo. When you think about it, don't ever say anything negative about Oprah. She has got a deadly army of followers that can and will find you and hurt you. In all honesty though, although I won't be reading anymore O Magazine (school starts ... I have to pretend to study from now on), I have a new respect for the lady. She ain't all bad.

And so goes the life ...