Newsflash: Victoria's Secret Sucks

I have a like-hate relationship with Victoria's Secret. I like it because I am a girlie girl and I like lingerie. However, I hate it because it is the epitome of every ridiculous mass-consumerist idea of what sexy should be. To be more concise, it's a place where everything has "sexy" written all over it because the marketing people think that most of us women need it all spelled out for us.

It's funny that the entire line of lingerie has been recently redesigned so it will look more feminine and retro, rather than the circus-pornstar fluorescent shit that they used to sell. I guess that sales started to plummet as more people left the store empty handed (it's difficult to find the sexy in lime green butt floss with sequins.) Hell, I do burlesque shows occasionally and I couldn't even justify any of that crap most of the time.

However, this rant comes on the heels of my most recent shopping excursion when I went in to use up some discount coupons on a couple of panties and shampoo. I really like their shampoo. It smells nice. But, it took damn near an hour to get through the process of buying it because I was accosted relentlessly by salespeople trying to get me to look at sweatpants (with "sexy" written on the ass), gross fragrance sets or credit card offers. I was bothered continuously by every staff member in the store. I can only imagine what a guy must feel like, should he shop there for his woman. But, then I remembered that only ya-doods without any semblance of creativity shop there for their girlfriends and I proceeded to not give a shit about that any more.

Note: if you want to impress your lady friend, blow some extra dimes on a gift from Agent Provocateur. The classiness and high sex appeal factor will score you extra in the bedroom. Trust me.

So yeah. I hate that place, but I still shop there sometimes. I still like to buy bras and panties and all that crap that women spend a fortune on. I do it, but then I hate myself later because I feel like I just bought into the gimmick. If only I had the funds to outfit myself correctly in some La Perla. Someday...someday.

Oh, and I hear that the VS fashion show is on tonight. Usually, I make a date to watch it because I love fashion shows and the VS wings and all - but, this year, I'm going to forgo it. The last two times I watched it, it was like 10 minutes of total fashion runway and 50 minutes of annoying backstage cut-ins showing models on speed preening for the camera and running around in heels. It was fucking boring. Not to mention, if I have to hear Heidi Klum and her annoying mangled English one more time, I'm going to jump off the roof. Too bad - it's a cool idea, but if I want to watch a train wreck, I'll just go over to eonline.com and look at some fun Britney Spears videos.

Ouch

I just came back from a lunch with the executives at my consulting company. It went well I guess, but it’s something I hate having to do. You sit around a table and everyone forces themselves to talk. Conversational topics mostly revolve around the Patriots, the Red Sox and what someone’s kid said in the car the other day. These are topics that I have no knowledge of and don’t find particularly interesting – so all I can do is sit there and nod my head, feigning interest. It is torture.

I did, however, try to get in on the conversation today. One of the annoying guys who works in the World Trade Center with me was going on and on about some stupid car that he wants to sell. He asked me if I was interested in buying it. I said no and that I was getting along fine without a car. The big shot VP (who seems like a misogynist prick) was all like “No cah?! How can you have no cah!” After taking a big sip of my iced tea, I suppressed any thought of stabbing this guy with my butter knife and forged ahead, trying to appear calm and sophisticated so I could speak to this retard in a clear manner.

“Well, I live in the city, so there really isn’t a need for the expense. I like to walk a lot and I use public transportation. Not only that, I’m a member of this car share service called ZipCar.”

“Zipcah?! Oh yeah, I’ve seen some of does around town. Pretty nifty.” He said this as he elbowed his partner in the ribs in a joking fashion. This is the second time that he has done such a thing (and I’ve had lunch with him twice.) Every time I open my mouth to say something, it’s just so damn funny. It’s annoying and very unprofessional and Jesus, wouldn’t I love to beat him over the head with my handbag. If it wasn’t for the fact that I need this job, I would have done it by now.

What made the lunch even worse is the fact that I am completely hung-over today. This is the result of yet another evening of magnum-wine-bottle-drinking with Skaht. We did our usual thing of YouTube watching, although this time I ended up in a sailor themed bra and hat, not sure why…I just did.

As a general rule, I think that I need to cut off the alcohol when I start feeling the need to raid my burlesque costume stash on a weeknight. Weekends are okay. Weeknights are not.