The Luckiest Tiny Type Ever

So, I was wondering exactly what I'd blog about today, that is until I took the trash out just now and got the mail.

I'd put the recycling on the street right next to the mailbox and had taken out the one piece of mail today saw, which was a magazine.

Now, I'm sorry, but I don't know how or when I was graced with a subscription to MAXIM, but it was not by my doing. I don't read it. I don't even look at the pictures.

Don't get me wrong, I like pictures of scantily-clad women any day, but the highly-photoshopped and glitzed-up girls of MAXIM just aren't my thing. It shows up and literally goes from the mailbox into the recycling bin outside.

Except this time.

With one hand holding the lid of the recycling bin open and the other about to pitch the magazine into it, I caught a glimpse of the headline "Battlestar Babes" and then recognized the two babes on the cover to be the two hot Cylon flesh-jobs. (Yes, I speak BSG, frak off.)

I took it inside. (Come on, they're HOT.)

When I got the cover inside into the light, I noticed the little block of copy strategically placed over the coming-together of their backsides.



That made it all worth it, even moreso than the highly-photoshopped and glitzed-up Battlestar Galactica girls, MAXIM-style.

P.S. If you, dear reader, are the giver of the subscription to MAXIM and I have very inconsiderately forgotten you'd gifted it to me, I am very sorry.