Happy New Year!

Monthly magazines are always a little anemic in January. They blow their loads on their December issues, and the new year finds them tapped out. Exhibit A:  on the cover of the January Cosmo, there are promises of a measly 60 Sex Tips. What? No 75? But Cosmo loves 75; it's their magic number! Couldn't eek out another 15?  This does not bode well.

Okay - 60 it is. I personally believe one only really needs about 20, maybe 25 things in one's repetoire to have a perfectly fantastic sex life; anything over 30 seems like showboating. But this is "60 Hands Free Ways to Wow Him". There's a whole lot o' lube involved in going hands free, apparently. And feet. And eye-lid licking.  Near as I can tell, lube something up and rub it on him; that pretty much covers it. I did enjoy " In a pitch-black room, have him direct a flashlight at the places on his body he wants you to lick". Okay. I'm a big movie fan, so when a  guy wants to recreate a sexy scene from a movie, I'm all in. But I'm thinking "9 1/2 Weeks", not "The Blair Witch Project". " I am so scared. I don't know what's out there." Some naked guy shining a flashlight on his nipples, as it turns out.

"What to do when your guy gets quiet". How quiet are we talking? Because I'd suggest checking for a pulse and then, depending on your findings,  either calling  911 or leaving him the fuck alone to watch the game, but I've been wrong before. Nope - apparently, silence is not golden. It may, in fact, indicate that the planum temporale, a portion of the outer layer of the brain which recognizes language cues, is thinner in men. So they get slim hips and a thinner planum temporale? I knew I should have been a dude.

Ashley Greene. She's in Twilight. Her breasts look fantastic on the cover. But she's dating the gay Jonas brother. Let's call this one a draw.

January's issue always contains the yearly  "Bedside Astrologer". I'm not much for horoscopes; I know I'm a Sagitarrius, but that's about it. But today happens to be my birthday, so let's see. Apparently, I crave passion 24/7, so what I need is a guy who is exciting yet grounded and will be there for me no matter what. If by passion they mean cupcakes, they're pretty much bang on. Sure, there was a time when I liked someone to bring the intensity, but now I'm happy for him to just bring the DVD.  And maybe some Kettlecorn. I'm also supposed to go commando on a dinner date, then "drop" something and ask him to pick it up, giving him "a peep show he won't ever forget". Couple of problems here. With my luck, my date would be on his Blackberry the whole time while I kept randomly tossing things on the floor, until eventually only a shrimp cocktail and some Sweet n' Low remained. Or, because this is my life, a poor hapless 21 year old waiter would be walking by, notice my butter fingers, insist on retrieving the fork/napkin/dinner roll and henceforth be visually assaulted. Sure, he won't ever forget it either, the day the middle-aged lady showed him her no-no zone, not even after years of therapy and a Valium prescription. The good news is, they've helpfully given me my hottest love and sex days. Note to self: shave legs on March 30.  I also have a reputation as the queen of spur-of-the-moment quickies. Really? Who wrote this? 1993?

My favourite article this month, without a doubt, is "The New Male Grooming Obsession". Seems virtually every guy on the planet is manscaping. Look, I get it, and given the insane follicular expectations guys seem to have about women these days, I suppose it's only fair. But come on; men should have hair. My fondness for chest hair is well documented, so I'm biased, but men are apparently going to salons for what is known, in the waxing vernacular, as the "back, sack and crack". It's okay, keep laughing. I'll wait....Really? These poor idiots are waxing their balls? They're supposedly doing this to make the area more "appetizing" (their word, not mine) to women. Because we all know how mouthwatering women find the recently plucked chicken look. Jesus. Adults have  hair. Even women. So unless you can reasonably expect to land a job as Sasquatch's body double, trim the hedges and call it a day. You just know somewhere right now, some horny guy is standing in a pitch-black room, shining a flashlight on his balls and hoping like hell the pain was worth it.