Do you guys remember that little strawberry blonde girl with the yellow cape and intense middle part that ran around with a magnifying glass in Harriet the Spy? Well, she left little mystery this month on the March edition of Maxim. Let’s just say you don’t need a magnifying glass to look for Michelle Trachtenberg’s ta-tas. And um, pretty sure she got rid of the yellow raincoat.
I was excited to dig into Maxim this month. Somehow the magazine has been a monthly treat I have come to look forward to. It gives me the same feelings I get when I eat a big, gooey brownie – indulgent, satisfied, and really, really guilty.
I learned a lot in this month’s issue of Maxim, starting with Michelle Trachenberg’s deepest and darkest secrets. (Seriously, her photo shoot looked like a vampire True Blood fantasy). Maxim taught me that contrary to what I learned in Bambi, people really are not hornier in the springtime. Dag nabbit, Thumper! How do you explain how my eyelashes grow and thicken so I can bat them at all the hotties in their Sperry’s every May? I also learned that it’s easier to give birth in the warmer months, hence the call to boning when the weather outside is frightful.
I was born in the warmer months…
As I continued to flip through the raunch-fest, I happened upon a new photo column. It’s called ‘Woman With a Tool.’ No, hot chicks don’t pose with a different douchebag every month; they actually put on a lacy bra and suspenders and pose with a tool. Like, from a tool box. (The bros at Maxim HQ must have put on their thinking caps to come up with this one!) This month, a saucy blonde is posing with a shovel… and I feel like that biotch is mocking me. I have spent weeks shoveling out my car every morning and I didn’t do it in lingerie and stripper heels. Thanks for making me look bad, Bitch with a Shovel.
For all of the Jessica Simpsons out there, Maxim took it upon themselves to create a pictorial about how buffalo wild wings are made (to show their utmost appreciation for them). The third step? Beautiful virgins bathe the wings in a potent blend of cosmic dust, angels’ tears, and sweet, sweet hot sauce. Wait…so, like, buffaloes can swim and fly? Sorry – I don’t eat flying buffalo.
After plowing through a few interviews where girls in tight tops sans bra and short frilly pink skirts claimed their last meal was “french fries and goat cheese,” I came across ‘The Scaredy-Cat’s Guide to Kicking Your Phobias,’ an article for all the wimpy boys out there. And it’s a true gem.
Time to take a deep breath and conquer our fears, ya’ll. Fingers crossed there’s something in there to help get me over my fear of an empty box of Girl Scout cookies!
Maxim Says: Fear of peeing in the men’s room. Your winkle refuses to tinkle? Solution: Hold your breath for thirty seconds.
Brittany Says: Clearly, I have never experienced this fear, but someone key me in: how is holding your breath going to make your winkie dink tink? What happened to imagining a waterfall and getting the TLC song stuck in your head?
Maxim Says: Fear of flying. Solution: Know the facts. Almost all accidents happen in either the first three minutes after takeoff or the last eight minutes before touchdown, so relax and drink up for the rest of the flight.
Brittany Says: Pardon me for being Captain Obvious, but this sounds like a ‘fear of flying nightmare sandwich.’ Oh, so the plane is either going to nose dive in the first three minutes or the last eight? I’m so looking forward to the three hours in the middle!
Maxim Says: Fear of death. Solution: Just say STOP. Literally, when the thought of death enters your head say the word ‘stop.’
Brittany Says: On top of freaking out about croaking, I’m not going to waste my precious life away having arguments with myself. Besides, I’d just get The Supremes song stuck in my head and no one wants to live their life like that.
Maxim Says: Fear of motorcycles. Solution: Wear all the gear. Understand the risks and minimize them. When you do go out there alone, stay away from booze.
Brittany Says: Does Maxim really have to remind guys to not drink and drive? Here’s some advice: Afraid of motorcycles? DRIVE A CAR. There, was that so hard?
Oh, and where’s the advice for a guy who’s afraid of commitment? Can we get some real advice up in here?
This isn’t Maxim’s first rodeo. Get more of their ridiculous advice right here.