. . . and I feel fine.

Once in a while on Thursdays past, my US Weekly would fail to show up. If it did not arrive by Saturday, I would secretly suspect someone in the mail distribution center of "borrowing" it. The fact that I did not receive the TomKat wedding issue until the following Tuesday: not a coincidence.

For the past two Thursdays, US Weekly has not appeared in my mailbox. I guess that's what happens when you ignore all six of the renewal notices/bills that they send. That's my new m.o. for managing my magazine subscription addiction. I ignore all renewal notices and bills and then wait and see what happens. In the case of Real Simple, I realized that, though I enjoyed features on the perfect white blouse and the best drugstore mascaras, I could live without the magazine. When Entertainment Weekly stopped coming and I subsequently missed the fall television preview issue, I was not fine. I renewed promptly and, because the gods were smiling upon me, my first issue after the hiatus was the collector's edition issue of The Office (to give you an idea of my passion for The Office, I am planning to frame and mat the four covers of the special edition . . . for the basement, not the living room).

I always imagined I would miss US Weekly almost immediately, despite having my already-documented reservations about being a subscriber. However, the lapse of my subscription could not have come at a better time. What have I missed so far? The Heidi Montag "Plastic Surgery Revenge" issue. And then: the style issue, featuring a cover of Lauren Conrad and the other two girls from The Hills. And I subscribed long enough to know what else I missed inside: so and so from a band I've never heard of was at Hyde (?) and so was Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie is eating now that she is pregnant, three D-list celebrities wore the same dress, Eva Longoria went to Whole Foods, Brangelina and brood stayed at a hotel somewhere, Britney is still struggling, Jessica Simpson bought three t-shirts for $400 at Kitson and Ken Paves was with her, Jennifer Aniston does pilates and likes the zone diet, and on and on and on.

I'm certainly not judging anyone who remains an US Weekly subscriber. It's given me a lot of pleasure over the years. I'm sure one of these weeks, I'll see it in the checkout line and be unable to not throw it my cart. And, if it's sitting in a waiting room and so am I, you better believe I'll be reading it. But, for now, it will not longer show up in my mailbox on Thursdays. When conversations about pop culture take place, I will be less prepared than usual. I likely won't know who Justin is dating at all times. Though I'm rooting for Nick and Vanessa, I'll have to trust they can make it without me. I may just forget about Eva Longeria altogether.
Ditto Hayley Duff. Surprisingly, I feel fine. NTB.

And, if you mostly don't know who the hell I am talking about, you should feel damn fine.