My Dearest NYLON

you make me scream at the top of my lungs, roll around the floor in happiness, and explode with pure joy. could any other magazine publication make me as excited to the point of orgasm status the way you do? its the one thing i regularly get in the mail, and the only reason i actually check the mail. i hide you behind my text books, smuggle you around in my backpack, and casually flip through you while relaxing on my roof. I risked digging through the recycling just to save you from an unwanted demise. my magazine, my bible! i eye your glossy cover while racing to finish my homework. all i want to do is sit and read cory kennedy's notes on upcoming bands and fashion trends. I could go on for ever! 

Ever since the first second i flipped through your colorful witty articles, i decided on my future job. I WANT TO WORK FOR NYLON! i think that there is no better job for me in the world. its publication is the perfect marriage of wit and culture, throw in cory kennedy and peaches geldof and you have nothing less then perfection. i would do anything to visit their offices for a day, sip coffee with marvin scott jarrett and talk about our love of nordic icelandic bands and the genius behind marc jacobs' tantalizing ads. Im sitting here daydreaming about the one day when people ask where i work, and i can say "NYLON magazine!" I am a huge fan. because when i read it, i can picture myself in its pages, not as a model, but as free thought. it flows easily and effortlessly, and yet it reminds me of me. so don't be alarmed if you see me running down the street ecstatic over the fact that the mail man just arrived, i probably just got my new issue of NYLON.