Hey Venus
I think it was last week that I admitted to actually buying a swimsuit from Newport News (maybe eight months ago and I never even wore it—I've only gone swimming once in the past eighteen years) and now I'm suffering the aftermath. Today, a creepy little catalog called Venus appeared in my mailbox. I don't know how on earth I could possibly be the target demographic for the Barely Brooke collection. I can only blame this titillating tragedy on my Newport News impulse purchase. I also hold NN responsible for the baffling Midnight Velvet catalog that somehow made its way to me (notable in that it's the same company as Swiss Colony, one of my favorite Christmastime reads as a kid. Every year I'd drool over the petit fours [which reminds me, I intentionally titled a post "Petty Four" late last year and I get a decent amount of hits on phonetic spellers googling that phrase. Not to be petty, but…Oh, I also get lots of nutritional information fiends looking for the calories in drunken noodles and crab rangoon. As they say, if you have to ask…though today's favorite is as toss up between "taco bell commercial caesar actress" and "wet t-shirt contest photos." Your wish is my command.] and I never got them) a few months ago. I'm trying to imagine the Return of Mozambique figurine and Nakira caftan in my room. Yeah, I can see it.
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