Over the last few years, my life has become almost entirely wired—I pay all my bills online and haven't bought a stamp in ages, I blog instead of writing in a journal, I take digital photos and publish them to Flickr instead of printing them out, and I get all of my news online. (Is it obvious that I work in digital media yet?)

But despite my gravitation toward all things digital, one hard-copy habit I haven't been able to totally kick is magazines. No matter how obsessed with my computer I am (and believe me I am—friends tease me for having an emotional attachment to my Macbook), sometimes I just need to curl up on the couch with a cat and a magazine. (Also, it's a lot less hazardous when eating a ham sandwich and drinking a Coke.)

Some of my subscriptions have changed over the years, but one I have loved as long as I can remember is Rolling Stone. The writing is edgy and witty, the layouts cram a ton of information in but stop right before I feel overwhelmed (Wired, which I used to love, could learn a thing or two here), and the photography often makes me feel as though I'm standing right in front of my favorite artists.

I'll admit I was a bit disappointed in Rolling Stone's decision to abandon the large format they had used since 1981 for a traditional size, perfect-bound (no staples) style. I loved how the cover photos were larger than life almost. I loved the crinkly sound the cover made as I cracked it open.

But more importantly, I still love the content (everything music + acerbic, unforgiving take on politics + cussing = perfection, for me at least), so I'm letting this one slide. Just no more Britney Spears covers, ok?!