March 5, 2012
But if--god forbid--I leave my phone in another room, I'm forced to scrounge around and scan the backs of shampoo bottles and a box of Q-tips to stimulate my mind. I might as well be in a gas station.
I'd even take an old issue of Rolling Stone at this point. That's fine. Hell, even an alt-weekly newspaper would suffice. I'm not super picky. It doesn't have to be hot off the presses either; as long as there's an interesting letter to the editor or sassy advice column in the back, I'm happy.
One day, I'd like to pop into some dude's Piss Castle and see new issues of Vice neatly stacked near his toilet. Maybe he has some artsy magazines I've never even heard of! Dare I dream? It almost seems too far-fetched. I'd settle for far less. All I'm saying is that I'd like more reading options while I'm here than the back of a nearly-spent tube of St. Ives Apricot Scrub.