This is the very first No-Fi "Magazine" introduction that is not being written by THE MAN, Mr. Chris Beyond. When he decided to bestow this luxury upon me he gave me some bullet points that I should hit when going through this, but fuck it, I'm just going to do what I do best; TALKING ABOUT ME, THE EVER FANTASTICLY SARDONIC SABRINA_C.

Recently, it's been brought up to my attention that I type entirely too much in CAPS LOCK. It drives everyone insane. Due to its unsavory reception I am trying to do it as much as humanly possible. This is sort of a disclaimer that A LOT OF THIS INTRODUCTION WILL BE DONE IN CAPS LOCK BECAUSE I LIKE IT AND IT MAKES THE VACANT AREA IN MY CHEST WHERE MY HEART SHOULD BE WARM WITH GLEE!

With that said, so far 2007 has proven to be the Corky from "Life Goes On" of the 21st Century. I know a lot of people will want to argue that we do not know enough about 2007 to make such a claim, but trust me THIS IS A TRUTH. It's like, on your first date when a guy awkwardly leans in for a kiss, but he nervously puts his hand on your leg then takes it off, thereby freaks himself out and ultimately gives up trying to make it to first base. So you go home, call your friends to wildly exclaim that you went on a date with a "Loser-faggot" and decide never to rendezvous with said man again. Dearest feeble minded friends, 2007 is that guy.

On a personal level, I have already found myself waking up in strange places in 2007, but no where near the level of chaos, established in 2006. The problem with 2007 is that it has a lot to live up to. In 2006 I got a life guard to open a life guard tower and fuck me in there on my birthday. Seriously, 2007 has a lot to live up to and it is failing miserably. In 2006, I realized that my body converts alcohol into antibodies and I am no longer affected by such things as COLDS or AIDS. Really! Thank god for alcoholism cause now I can have gratuitous dirty, angry sex in any and every alley without protection and thwart off all diseases known to man, and a few that aren't. Holy hell, my life is so awesome it hurts.

Speaking of drinking, my new favorite drinking song is Deep Purple's "Space Truckin'". I realize that some people will be like, "UH THIS IS A MAGAZINE DEDICATED TO NEW BANDS AND UP & COMING MUSIC!" To these people I say FUCK YOURSELF. The point of discovering new stuff is having the open mind to make something old into something new. Isn't that what all you fucking lame hipsters do anyways? And don't get on my ass for bitching at hipsters just because I am not one. Get this: I AM AN ANGRY, SELACIOUS, ALCOHOLIC SLUT, and that my friends, has nothing at all to do with hipsters. However, it has everything to do with the fact that "Space Truckin'" is completely one of my new favorite drinking songs. Right in the middle, the chorus chants COME ON! Over and over. Sort of like when you're trying to get down one more shot and your friends are chanting to you and in your heart you know you can do it, but in your body you know you can't so you prepare yourself for soul evacuation in the form of superfluous vomiting.

Speaking of unwarranted upchucking, this month's edition of No-Fi "Magazine" is all about STALKING. Well, the actual title is "THE SECRET CREEPY ADMIRER ISSUE!" Sure, I've had more than enough of those. It's typically what happens when I wake up and realize I am in a strange bed, with a strange man, strangely naked. Strange? Immediately, I use my Spidey sense to get the fuck out of there without waking up my sleeping anti-suitor and run far, far away. I'm currently at a point in my life where I can discover said stalker's stalking tendency before the stalking actually begins. Usually, it starts around the first time we are fucking, this is probably after knowing one another for less than two drunken hours, and said gentleman asks in the middle of sex WHY AREN'T YOU KISSING ME ANYMORE? Uh, excuse me? Kissing during sex is for people that love each other. I don't even know you, let alone love you. Please return to fucking me and stop acting like a fucking 14-year-old girl before I beat the living shit out of you. Back to the sneaking out, this behavior usually initiates a sort of psycho-sexual stalking that ends with me setting their house on fire while they watch from a distance, with binoculars, pining over our lost love. Le sigh.

Issue #58 picks up where things went haywire and No-Fi went on No-hiatus and nothing got done last year. 2007 is a year of work. 2007 is a year of accomplishment. I am a person that stands for neither of these things, again let me reiterate, 2007 blows ass. At any rate, 2007 also means recruiting fresh meat, and by fresh meat I mean new writers so we can give a rest to those of us fucking old bitches that found ourselves too busy, too downtrodden or too drunk in 2006 to get anything done. These undulating n00bies, have gigantic shoes to fill and I personally plan to scrutinize every last thing they do. I welcome you to do the same. EVERYONE SHOULD BE READING EVERY LAST WORD THEY WRITE, BUT NOT TO PLAYCATE THEM - TO DOMINATE. Aye Papi, domination!

I guess this is the part where I tell you that we have an exciting array of articles in store for you, dear reader. This issue we have lined up, deliciously written linguistic pieces. In this case we have an interview with Janet Klein (of Janet Klein And Her Parlor Boys), The best and worst of 2007, writer Roger Boxx is back, Articles about Romantic unwanted love, sexy silk stalking. And finally, music reviews are back (finally)...

Never to be outdone, there are other salacious pieces waiting to be read, but we're going to pretend this is written as a teaser and not because I am entirely too fucking lazy to keep writing. So read the fucking issue.

~ Sabrina C.
Managing Editor, Staffwriter



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