Sometimes I think I'm really, really weird.
Take the other morning for example -- I open my mailbox to find this little postcard thing that says,
As if the bargain was the real hook. Like the magazine itself didn't matter next to the sheer enormity of the sweetheart deal I'd somehow lucked into. Not that I was clueless to what the offer was for (I mean come on, this is me we're talking about) - but that it was somehow worth investigating further simply because of the price.
So I open up the mailer to try and figure out what the catch is and there's this sample cover inside with big block letters that read:
At which point all thoughts of economics fly out the window and and I find myself saying
Take the other morning for example -- I open my mailbox to find this little postcard thing that says,
"You've been selected to enjoy a year of PLAYBOYSay what you will about aging misogynist Hugh Hefner and the unfortunate legacy he's helped place on impressionable women in this country, it's hard not to read something like that without that little voice inside your head saying, "Damn -- that's a pretty good deal!"
for just $1 an issue, our absolute lowest price!"
As if the bargain was the real hook. Like the magazine itself didn't matter next to the sheer enormity of the sweetheart deal I'd somehow lucked into. Not that I was clueless to what the offer was for (I mean come on, this is me we're talking about) - but that it was somehow worth investigating further simply because of the price.
So I open up the mailer to try and figure out what the catch is and there's this sample cover inside with big block letters that read:
Paris Hilton and Debbie Gibson NUDE!
At which point all thoughts of economics fly out the window and and I find myself saying
"Aww Hell No!"
[Listening to: The Waitresses, "Square Pegs"]
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