Remember a few weeks ago when I was all excited because I found my calling in life, my life’s work? I was going to open SlutMart, where reality show hos could get all of their Lucite heels and coochie-baring dresses.
Sadly, I think someone beat me to the punch.
See, I ended up on a mailing list.
A mailing list for a particular catalog.
Perhaps you’ve heard of it … Frederick’s of Hollywood?
First of all – how could my business plan for SlutMart have been so flawed to overlook such a huge competitor – a competitor who may have actually cornered the market on hoochiewear?
Secondly – how did I get on this mailing list? Don’t they realize that I’m a former mathlete who never goes anywhere without an iron-plated, industrial-strength over-the-shoulder boulder holder? I am not the target demographic for the, uh, recreational underthings that are the hallmark of the Frederick’s of Hollywood empire.
I will say, however, that good ol’ Fred does offer clothing and accessories for any occasion.
Need to throw on jeans and a shirt for a quick run to WalMart for cigs and baby formula? Fred will hook you up.
Or how about taking the kids to the zoo, getting in touch with your own wild side?
Nothing says, “I am an important businesslady going to an important businesslady meeting” like this little getting-down-to-business number.Tell me these wouldn’t be perfect for meeting your boyfriend’s parents. Seriously.Oh, crap. I actually kind of like this one.
… while these are better suited for your boyfriend’s parole hearing.
I know I’m being harsh … it’s just hard to let go of the SlutMart dream. And looking through Fred’s stock is like planning your outfits for the elimination ceremonies of any vh1 dating show.
But really? Really, who buys this stuff? Who are these women? And how did I get lumped in with them with this stupid catalog?
All images courtesy of fredericks.com.