The new Zest magazine I bought today is an utter disappointment. The cheapest British import used to be so good – in terms of writing gleefully about living it up without picturing too many Arnold-looking women. But this one! I am still battling the urge to make a collage out of it. First it tells us that oral sex leads to mouth cancer – no less. Also it suggests a game of Birthday Paradox – allegedly, with 23 people in the room, the chances that two people’s birthdays will coincide are about 60%. I mean I have gone through my life with meeting only 2 persons who were also born on 17.06. Well, maybe I just don’t spend enough time in rooms with other 22 people. Then, “Get her body” page features Lily Allen! I guess I should be delighted it’s not Amy Winehouse. But at least there was one thing which semi-exited me and just boosted my obsession with Native American Indians. It’s snow-running – so hard to be winter-sick these days. I just want to put those tennis rackets on my feet and run to the bar where they serve hot mulled wine and cheese snacks, imagining myself to be Eugenia the Coughing Fish, out on the quest to save the prairies.