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Friday, December 16, 2005

DON'T GIVE ME SEXY. 

Since when do we let super (-mutant, space alien) models talk?

This was a very bad idea.

I hate these damned Victoria's Secret commercials worse than anything else about this holiday season. Plus they run during freaking prime freaking time, which is not that late, and I fear generations of little warped girls and boys will see them and grow up to think that this is what human bodies are supposed to look like, fueling yet another era of self hatred and slice 'n dice plastic surgery in filth-encrusted operating rooms in Mexico.

Wasn't it bad enough they had to run their giant skank panty parade runway show on network television, as if they haven't already toilet papered the world with their soft-core porn-alogues?!? And as if it was really high drama when some 14 year-old bim named Natasha lost her shoe on the runway? Do even the men beating off to this for free care about a goddamned shoe? Okay, maybe the foot fetishists, but honestly, people - again, with the sacril-icious "sexy" angel wings, and A BRA MADE ENTIRELY OUT OF CANDY?! You can't tell me they're not trying to corrupt the impressionable youth of America.

And that was just the tittyfucking fashion show, and now these blueball-inducing commercials. Like anyone would really be walking down the butt-cold street in a bra and panties, on fire.

Please, just gas me if I have to watch that strobe light flash in Gisele's crotch one more freaking time, or hear her so-cute-it-is-impossible-to-hate-her hipless mutant voice.

Or that one in the Santa suit (who thankfully isn't allowed to speak) fellating her Victoria's Secret gift card. Not too subtle, adver-teaser schlongs.

Plus this whole, "give me sexy" thing has got to go.

I cannot presume to speak for all women, but I'll tell you what I really want.

Give me money.
Give me bangs for Tyra Banks' giant, bulbous forehead.
Give me canoes for her giant pontoon feet.
Give me flying buttresses for her massive, sagging, natural (racial slur) boobs.
Give me a blindfold so that no man ever sees this commercial and compares my body to those of these genetic flukes.
Give me a heterosexual boyfriend for Gisele Büüündchen so she will get knocked up and go away, already.
Give me your wallet and a passport so I can go to darkest Africa deep butt-loving Latin America, where I will seem skinny and exotic like these stupid ass women whose noses are bigger than their brains and whose legs are longer than their life spans, who should all be sent back to their respective countries of origin immediately and forced to work in the fields until their nails break and their backs hunch over and they have to wear a babushka and marry the local pipefitter just to have an actual meal that they actually need now to do actual work which requires energy and half a brain.

I know, I know. "Settle down, Fatty."

Okay, FINE. Give me sexy.
Give me a tarp.

DON'T GIVE ME SEXY.
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