13 Going On 30 Going On 47

Thanks to the fact that I accumulate frequent flyer miles on every airline every year, I never have enough to use them for anything. That's why, at least once a year, I get a notice from one or more of the airlines saying that my miles are getting ready to expire, but I can use them for magazine subscriptions if I want. Therefore, I get 50 magazines a day, none of which I pay for. The challenge is selecting from the rather limited list of mags. There are surprisingly few things I am interested in. It's all part of what makes me such a fascinating gal, I suppose.

All this is by way of saying that sometimes the daily magazines make me feel old and cranky and sometimes they make me feel young and awkward again. Yesterday, I was forced to confront both feelings at the same time. The new issue of Spin arrived, with "Death Cab for Cutie" on the cover. I freely admit that I don't know any of their songs, but as an old crank I still hate them. I hate their name so very much. It seems so precious to me. I hate the constant references to them on the O.C. I hated their picture on the cover. Wipe that smirk off your face and get a damn haircut. Meanwhile, the new issue of GQ arrived with Tom Brady on the cover. I immediately started practicing my new signature "Mrs. Tom Brady", "Mrs. Maureen Brady", "Ms. Maureen Smith-Brady". The last one was my favorite, as it allowed me to put a heart over the letter i. Man, if I were 13, every surface of my room would be covered in pictures of Tek, Brady, and Prince William. Now I feel dirty. In the bad way.

Speaking of dirty in the bad way, I got a flyer in the mail today for a Continuing Legal Education class entitled "Sex Offender Training: Don't Practice Without It!" I personally believe it's wrong to train sex offenders - most of them seem to do just fine even without outside help.