Victoria's Secret: Semi-annual United Mens' Conference
I used to have this theory.
There's this thing called the "Victoria's Secret Semi-Annual Sale" where women rush to various malls under the facade of clearence shopping in an effort to stymie the morale of men in committed relationships. I've been known to call it the "Semi-annual man torturing event" Why do I say this? Because for the third time now with the one I'm with now, and for the fourth time ever, I've been dragged to the mall to sit outside the Victoria's Secret, playing Tetris on my Kyocera cell phone in complete bordom for about an hour. Myself nor any other male on the planet can quite fathom what the hell is going on in there. Maybe they have a magician or a free bar, who knows, all I know is that something keeps them in there forever. Personally, it takes me all of 5 minutes to walk into KMART and pick a pack of size medium boxers. Boom, done. Inside of that red-tinted store must be an entire congess that votes and debates over which pair of discount bras a woman should get. Or maybe they have to solve some sort of hard brain-twister before they get the discount. Or maybe the area outside of the store is some sort of bizzare space-time-continuum interfering wormhole. God himself is confused and baffled.
So I'm sitting outside of the store, with about 10 other guys. The mall people astutely decided to put about 8 benches outside of the store. The manager of the joint must have a wife. We look like holocaust victims. Sad, desperate, no zest for life. Then the most amazing thing ever happened. Me and this black guy lock eyes. He goes, "Man, this is bullshit! How the hell long does it take to pick out some damned underwear." Long story short, we, as men, went on a 20 minute bitchfest about how annoying this sale is. The beautiful thing is that represented were all walkes of life. A fat black guy, an Asian dude, a guy from the Czech Republic, a guy in flannel and a "Chevy Trucks" cap, a guy that looked like a CEO in an Armani suit, and a pathetic wiseass (me). Yet through our differences we came together against a common foe. The stupid ass semi annual sale. "Vhat deed I do to deserf these?" says the Czech phonetically. We all knew what he felt. Sorrow. Then the black guy's wife came out, he stands up, and says "Free at last, free at last, thank God ALMIGHTY! Free at last!" And together, as men, we cheered (kinda, we were actually jealous of the guy.) One by one, they were set free until I'm the last one standing. Then she comes. I tasted freedom. It's kinda like a creme brulee.
I'm not sure if we are sexist or not, but it was hilarious. So try all you want women, you have only made us stronger.
There's this thing called the "Victoria's Secret Semi-Annual Sale" where women rush to various malls under the facade of clearence shopping in an effort to stymie the morale of men in committed relationships. I've been known to call it the "Semi-annual man torturing event" Why do I say this? Because for the third time now with the one I'm with now, and for the fourth time ever, I've been dragged to the mall to sit outside the Victoria's Secret, playing Tetris on my Kyocera cell phone in complete bordom for about an hour. Myself nor any other male on the planet can quite fathom what the hell is going on in there. Maybe they have a magician or a free bar, who knows, all I know is that something keeps them in there forever. Personally, it takes me all of 5 minutes to walk into KMART and pick a pack of size medium boxers. Boom, done. Inside of that red-tinted store must be an entire congess that votes and debates over which pair of discount bras a woman should get. Or maybe they have to solve some sort of hard brain-twister before they get the discount. Or maybe the area outside of the store is some sort of bizzare space-time-continuum interfering wormhole. God himself is confused and baffled.
So I'm sitting outside of the store, with about 10 other guys. The mall people astutely decided to put about 8 benches outside of the store. The manager of the joint must have a wife. We look like holocaust victims. Sad, desperate, no zest for life. Then the most amazing thing ever happened. Me and this black guy lock eyes. He goes, "Man, this is bullshit! How the hell long does it take to pick out some damned underwear." Long story short, we, as men, went on a 20 minute bitchfest about how annoying this sale is. The beautiful thing is that represented were all walkes of life. A fat black guy, an Asian dude, a guy from the Czech Republic, a guy in flannel and a "Chevy Trucks" cap, a guy that looked like a CEO in an Armani suit, and a pathetic wiseass (me). Yet through our differences we came together against a common foe. The stupid ass semi annual sale. "Vhat deed I do to deserf these?" says the Czech phonetically. We all knew what he felt. Sorrow. Then the black guy's wife came out, he stands up, and says "Free at last, free at last, thank God ALMIGHTY! Free at last!" And together, as men, we cheered (kinda, we were actually jealous of the guy.) One by one, they were set free until I'm the last one standing. Then she comes. I tasted freedom. It's kinda like a creme brulee.
I'm not sure if we are sexist or not, but it was hilarious. So try all you want women, you have only made us stronger.
posted by --==-- | 8:24 PM
1 Comments:
Pathetic. I say this simply because the real action is inside VS. Why sit outside when you can hang out in back, near the dressing room area, like the dudes at my VS, hoping to catch a glimpse of a half naked chick looking like Gisele Bundchen (if you're half blind, high and squint) trying to show her girlfriend the fabulous fit of the new IPEX demi bra? That was MY experience with the VS sale. Just sayin.
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