On Getting What You Ask For

My mother gave me $100 on the condition I not spend it on food, movies, beer or anything else I would typically buy in my daily life. This was special money.

So, frugal as I am and holding to her mandate, I threw the cash in a drawer and promptly forgot about it. In my vain attempts to secure fame and fortune through literary discovery in some men's magazine, I remembered my hidden trust fund.

In hindsight, I could have just ordered the damned thing and said nothing, but 18 issues for $10 is just something I felt the need to talk about. The Jew in me was just so powerful. So, I sent a lengthy email to my mother, reminding her of her demand for my frivolous use of the money, of the odd "yes we know we're kind of a little horrible niche" mentality of the publication, the more than slight similarities to a Richard Pryor movie and, yes, the fact that as a man i am entitled to enjoy looking at boobs on occasion.

I then informed her that I had spent 10% of her gift on a subscription to Maxim Magazine.

I have a vague intention of submitting writings to them.

I have every intention of masturbating.