I bought an EW this weekend that happened to have THAT on the cover, thinking there would be other stuff to read. Nah. It was an ENTIRE issue about THAT. No Hot List, no Stephen King column, no short profile on a washed-up rocker, nothing. And I didn't realize it wasn't a regular issue until I was sitting on a park bench with a cup of coffee, wearing my big sunglasses. In New York City. And I felt like SUCH a cliche.