The extremely superficial side of me (that would be all the bits you can see, of course) loves to check in on Go Fug Yourself once a week. It's less embarrassing than looking over people's shoulders at their magazines in the supermarket queue and less frustrating than waiting for my three-monthly stack of Nana's old New Ideas. The bonus is the commentary, far better than any crap magazine read.
Speaking of superficial bits, today I'm aghast at this, and this. Erk! I'm waiting for someone to walk down a red carpet absolutely naked, with diamond nipple studs or something. Now that would be tasteful.