October 22, 2006
Do you really believe Victoria’s secret has anything to do with underwear? Do you really believe Victoria lounges around all day in leaopard print panties and push up bras, listening to romantic rain forest sounds cd’s?
Don’t be an idiot. Grow up.
The closet Victoria ever gets to the lush green of the rain forest is when she is at the bank, depositing the lush green you so easily part with, in the hope that teddy you think might feel like ‘more of a woman’ with magic, transformative powers, doesn’t make you look fat. If you really think that looking like some trashy teenage boy’s version of a dominatrix, school marm, nurse or french maid, will transform your significant other into something other than the mindless oaf he is (we are experts at mindless oafism), you too, are an idiot.
That brings us to our point. Today is Sunday- and that means Carnival Of The Insanities. Today is the day you can lounge around in ratty pajamas or mismatched sweats (the ulitimate in sad) and feel good about yourself, because Dr Sanity finds the stories about people that are even more clueless than you are (hard as that is to believe. If you think that is an exaggeration, ask your kids or any of your in-laws).
You missed the real estate boom and you are missing the next stock market gold rush. Why? Because you didn’t know Victoria’s secret. Get smart, get on track and get smart.
Men, painting your face in team colors on Sunday is not a superior peacock-like display of superior genes. Expressing your ‘feminine, caring and artistic, haiku-reciting self,’ will in the end, make you come across like a talentless Boy George.
Let Carnival Of The Insanities show the way- and give you hope. One more thing. Please, get rid of the Mrs Claus holiday camisole outfit and that red hat you paid $40 to ‘complete the look’ (like the oaf is looking at the hat. That’s the only thing he doesn’t care about if it stays on. That should tell you something).