Having a blog means never having to say you're bored...

I had a rather long wait for my turn at the hair salon today, so I got to peruse the various magazines I never would buy, and am always curious about. My favorite today was GQ. How rewarding is it to know that men can be as vain and shallow as women? They have their own designers. Neil Patrick Harris did a photoshoot in a plethora of suits that all looked pretty much the same to me, but his projected ennui was breathtaking. Most of the men in the ads had that how-lucky-are-you-to-lay-your-unworthy-eyes-on-my-obvious-youth-and-splendor-and-how-much-don't-I-care-anyway look, reminiscent of Vogue haute-coutier sneers. One AX ad had the models, male and female, looking at each other while she had his pants down over his buns and her hand down the front. Snotty porn. I did like the Daniel Craig lookalike in the Bloomingale's ad, at least he looked real, not so very pneumatic or plastic. But best of all were the celebrity endorsement ads, Matthew McConaghy in Dolce and Gabbana fragrance, trying on his own lip-curling disdain, and yummy old guy Sean Connery pitching Louis Vuitton as a high-style Bahamas beach bum, in fedora, classic navy sweater and Dockers, slouched on a pier in the shimmering loveliness of a tropical beach. The coverboy was Robert Pattington, at least I think that is his name, you know, the blue-balled vampire of Twilight, and his visage was perfect, hooded eyes, sensual sneering lips, unbridled youth spilling out all over the place. Apparently, some men worship at the same altar. It was sad and hilarious, all at the same time. And, eventually, I got my haircut, too.