Ann got mad at me the other day for buying an issue of Maxim. Not mad mad, just the quirked eyebrow, "You are NOT dumb enough to buy this right in front of me... are you?" exasperation. It isn't that she minds me buying Maxim -- I get it every month and I honestly think she reads it more than I do -- it's just that this particular issue had Elisha Cuthbert on the cover. To clarify: the possibly attractive, I've never really noticed Miss Cuthbert holds the position of the one movie star I'm allowed to, er, date when I become famous. (So if you want to go ahead and recommend this blog to your friends, you know. Just saying.) When I pointed out that, honestly, I barely even noticed she was on the cover, and really that bedsheet is awfully conservative after all, the only response was a truly epic eyeroll.
Yes, those jealous pregnancy hormones have well and truly taken over her mind, I'm afraid. Sad.
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