The Only Difference Between The New Yorker and US Weekly is a Penis

Yes, indeed. My Ms. Hyde morphs from a toe-picking, dirty Pats t-shirt wearing, E!Online-watching couch potato eating Sun Chips Harvest Cheddar(tm) to a Jekyll who's coiffed, manicured, thoughtful reading material opened with a authoritative snap, eyeglasses perched upon my nose (I have 20/20 vision, BTW)at the suitably-disenfranchised alternative book store. And all the while, I'm peeking above Harper's, through these phony glasses, trying to see who's checking me out. Because I'm smart. S-M-R-T. This is not just a pretty face, people. And this intellectual poseur is on the prowl.