I could not resist the new issue of Cosmopolitan with Dakota Fanning on the cover. It's pink, campy, vaguely disturbing, and a nice throwback to their Scavullo-era covers. It's the sort of jailbait ephemera that I want to find in a box 20 years from now, along with my 80's Brooke Shields magazines and much-loved VHS copy of Poison Ivy. Watching a former child star become sexualized is always mildly unsettling, even when they are of an appropriate age. Dakota turned 18 this month but it still feels wrong to see her next to the "His Best Sex Ever" cover line. I actually read that article, it was sooooooo boring. I'm convinced that no one on the Cosmo editorial team has sex. If they did, they wouldn't relentlessly promote chocolate body frosting. The magazine as a whole is so dumbed-down and misguided that it's actually a pretty entertaining read, like The National Enquirer and tabloids with cover stories about Shiloh Jolie-Pitt's gender "confusion" (see this week's Life & Style). Totally the best $3.99 I've spent in ages.