It came to the office in a benign white envelope addressed to Alex Balk. When we opened it, editor Ann Shoket's business card fell out and then, so did the November issue of Seventeen magazine. The cover was so heinously bright, Choire immediately shrieked (on the other hand, Choire is always immediately shrieking) and threw it from him. I picked it up—a mistake. Three seconds later my eyes were burning. Why must Seventeen slather their covers in Hot Pink and Insane Aqua and Neon Yellow? It's like the magazine version of Claire's Accessories. The worst part is that even after you put it down, a scary green afterimage of Carrie Underwood's face floats in your head. Horrid! Vivid! Are teenage girls all going blind or something?