FINGERS OFF SUCKA.....THAT'S MY MAGAZINE

Everybody I know has some odd idiosyncrasies.  Mine is the fresh and never been handled magazine.  I love them, I love their smell, their feel, their glossiness, and the fact that I am the first to touch their clean pages is utterly exhilarating.  It's a love affair I have had for more years than I can count and it probably started when I was a kidlet... I use to have two subscriptions, one to the Annie Oakley Fan club and the other to Junior National Geographic...  I use to wait that long 30 days in between until the next magazine would come in, and when it arrived in brown paper packaging with my name on it, I would bolt to my bedroom to savour the excitement of opening it all to myself.  They were shiny, new and most of all clean.  Many years later and I still feel the same way.  It probably would come as no surprise to find out that I nearly burst a vein on the side of my forehead if someone else touches my virgin magazine before I do. Those who know me, know that I must be the first to flip thru it and I must be the first to read it... and if I am not, don't even bother giving it to me!

Of course, it should be also no shock that I absolutely cannot touch a magazine in any office setting... You know what I mean, when you are sitting at your doctor's or at your dentist's office and there are tons of magazines for you to view while you wait.  All I can see is a zillion little fingers that have flipped thru those pages.... eeew.  It blows my mind that most doctors offices require you to put a face mask on as to not spread germs, but leave out for everyone to touch, sneeze on, cough on, snot on, paper reading products... Like we aren't going to catch anything off those little germ collectors *shudder*. 

Ironically, I have been with my better half for seven years and he still does not understand this flaw in my personality and I nearly get frantic when I come home from a store and he starts to empty out the bags and grabs my magazine and does a quick flip thru those virgin pages.  It takes all my strength not too leap across our kitchen island and slap him silly!  He regularly looks at me as though I am a maniac, and perhaps I am.  But it is only when I have read the magazine thoroughly and I mean every page from top to bottom, from side to side, from article to article and advertisement to advertisement, that you may pick it up and view it.  It is only then I am done with it, and that my needs have been satisfied and it no longer holds any value to me that I will deem it possible for you to view it... It is sad but true.  What is sadder yet is that this is the only aspect of my life where I require complete cleanliness.

I think I can say with total assurance that at this point in my life, it is highly doubtful that I am going to change when it comes to the virgin magazine.  And if you are ever in a magazine aisle and you see this girl reaching for the magazine way way at the back of the pile, the likelihood is, is that is just crazy old me!  Harmless of course, unless you touch my virgin magazine and then I take no further responsibility for my future actions.

Until next time.
Smooches Pooches