I get entirely too much mail.

It’s never all mine either. The previous tenants get their credit card statements and Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons delivered weekly to my house. Just recently, two of them started getting mail about some extravagant lawsuit they’re both involved in. I should probably let them know, but instead, I just throw it away.

But boy, do I get enough magazine subscription offers.

Every day it seems to be a new one. From Us Weekly to Better Homes and Gardens, I don’t know how I’m getting these. I try to cheat the system and send away for the discounted subscription with the hopes of getting that great red tote bag before paying. But it never happens.

I was SUPER excited when Playboy offered me a year’s subscription (and a FREE nude celebs DVD!) for a mere $12! Who cares if I’m a girl?! $12?! That’s a steal! So, I sent away for it. I was even going to pay the $12. But a month stretched into two months, and I had yet to see a single blonde bombshell surprising me at the mailbox.

So, come to find out that my Playboy issues had actually been delivered to me – at my parents’ house. My dad decided to hide the issues, and then my mom canceled the subscription. All before that free DVD!

I feel cheated! Not because my dad stole them or my mom canceled it, but because Playboy actually had substance. Dare I say it?

I’m sick of the tabloids and the Us Weeklies and the Star magazines and the OK!s. Those were the magazines I read during downtime at my previous workplace, Rite Aid, just to have something to talk about with the high school dropouts and single moms who worked with me.

I’m sick of how our worlds are centered on whether Britney Spears will take her boys on tour, or if Stephanie from “Full House” drove her kids around while drunk. Granted, Playboy doesn’t have the most investigative stories, but at least they’re not about trainwrecks and Grammy fashion. February’s issue starts a discussion about the impact of social networks, the top tested cars for 2009 and a write-up on the financial crisis.

See? Nothing about Madonna’s new boyfriend or what Kate Winslet is wearing to the Oscars.

I dig that.

So thank you, Playboy. Your pages may be covered with filth and smut, your founder may be the creepiest man ever, but I’d rather read you in all your disgusting glory than drown my brain with useless gossip.

So, to whoever keeps forwarding my address for discounted magazine subscriptions, surprise me with something new.

Contact assistant all editor Kelly Pickerel at [email protected].