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In This Issue

• Young and In Heat
• Teen Talk
• Way Embarassing Stories From Teens Like You!
• Letters to the Feditor
• You're Bleemin' Thin!
• New, Finger-Eatin' Good Diet!
• Pot Calls Kettle Black, Gag Ball Calls Assless Chaps Gay
• Sequels: Always Better Than Originals
• Boy Bands: Our Saviors
• Barbara Bush is a Dead Bitch
• H&M: We're So Hip!
• Beauty is in the Red, Tearful Eye of the Beholder
• Pity the Lowly Rock Dove
• Do-It-Yourself Object of Love
• Ode to a Spill-Proof Mug
• Mouse and Cat: World Series Prep
• Revolve: The *New* New Testament
• Fed Insider with Grown-Up Teen Idol Rider Strong
• Jewry Blocks Masturbation
• The 9 Train
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 21.1

It's fall. You're blonde. You were happy all summer, but you don't want your emotions to be out of season. You need to change it up a bit. Where's a girl to turn? Well, you choice chill chicas, scouting for fall fashions, I was recently bowled over by some "sad girls." It's strange but true; Glum cheerless females are just oozing with slouchy, obscenity-spitting beauty this season: That inky black hair, those beady staring eyes, those delicate rolls of fat sticking out from under their copies of Lolita clutched cutely to their torsos. The common denominator in this fashion equation is the fact that they are, all, like, totally sad. Curious as to how the blues can bring beauty, I donned a spider-covered headband and walked among them. Here are some of their beauty secrets.

Hateful-Goth-Sad-Girl:
    So you wanna be hot? Here’s a tip for you: Burn in hell, you fuck. But seriously, if I tell you for real, can I sit at your lunch table?


Anna-Rexia-Sad-Girl:
    First you need some controlling or abusive parents and lots of fashion magazines. Keep your negative emotions bottled up inside for two, three, six years…you’ll find they manifest in some quite rewarding ways! Guys really dig my bald spot and my chipping, yellow fingernails. And today, I got an invite to a coke party from Christy Carlson Romano.


Crazy-Neo-Victorian-Sad-Girl:
    Visit a shop selling various types of healthful potions and tinctures. Once there, gather up some feverfew, three green beetles of deepest Africa, a dropper-ful of spirits of Saint Antimony, and the fine powdered tusks of a wild boar. Grind these into a thick gray paste and apply to your face by leech. Go directly to bed, and when you awake I assure you that you will be at least one thousand times more beautiful.

Coke-Head-Sad-Girl:
    I’m so fucking buzzed right now. What? You think I’m pretty? I’ll suck your dick for some…oh, you’re a chick. What? You want to be pretty too? Pretty like drugs? Oh, me.  Yeah, everyone wants to take me in the bathroom and party with me. Don’t tell me you like to party too, do you even know what that means? Me, I’ve done it at Lit, Look, Suede, Stache, Trash, Plaid, Puke, Shit, Piss, Fart, fucking everywhere…I love my life so much right now I love it so much and I never need to eat or change my tight black pants and all these really heavy teeth keep falling out and my head feels so much lighter that I love my life and my fashion mullet and my pleather boots and my skinny friends and I just wanna scream! Holeless noses are so passé! Get the fuck away from my stash.

Strange-Sexual-Fetish-Sad-Girl:
    People always ask me how I get my hair so bouncy. What you need to do is fairly simple: just break into the zoo at night and steal a large roll of plastic sheeting, a cattle prod, a Shetland pony, a boa constrictor, and a hamster. I think you ladies know where to take it from there.

Sarcastic-Sad-Girl:
    Oh jeez, I don’t know. Maybe you could stick a blowtorch up your ass. I’ve heard that helps you pass those big, unsightly organs.

Stress-Eater-Sad-Girl:
    Wait until you just can’t fucking take it anymore. Then go to the nearest 7-11 and buy twelve packs of Hostess twinkies, six whoopee pies, twenty two packs of pork rinds, and a Diet Coke. Everyone says I have really great skin.

Violin-Totin'-Sad-Girl:
    Practice at least twenty hours a day.

Self-Destructive-Goth-Sad-Girl:
     I’m so goth I don’t paint my nails black, I bash them with a hammer. Would you like to listen to some Nick Cave CDs?

Conor Oberst:
    Don't you hate it when you sit down to pee and you realize there's no love left in the world?