If there’s one thing that will make a guy stop dead in his tracks, its a Victoria’s Secret catalog. It really makes no sense. There’s plenty of places to see T&A these days…the Internet, Channel 35 (for NY residents), hell, even during football games (i.e. the Janet Jackson and Nicollette Sheridan incidents). Yet somehow, whenever we spot a Victoria’s Secret catalog, we act like its the best thing to happen to us since sliced bread.

Case In Point:

On most days, I come home from work, drop my bag on the floor, and stand by the table in our foyer space-between-our-couch-and-kitchen, sifting through the mail as I empty my pockets, untuck my shirt, and kick off my shoes. The other day I came home from work and was going through this same routine, when I spotted a Victoria’s Secret catalog that had made its way into our apartment. I snatched it up and immediately read it from cover to cover (Does one read Victoria’s Secret catalogs? What’s the correct way to phrase that sentence?). Anyway, it was only after I finished that I realized I had been standing in my “foyer” for a good 10 minutes with a half un-tucked shirt and one shoe off.

I’ll admit, its been a while since I’ve last seriously flipped through a Victoria’s Secret catalog. After reading this recent one, I have some questions. When the hell did they start selling so many non-underwear clothes? I spent a good five minutes flipping through pages of women who were not nearly naked enough. Is this a big part of their revenue? And even if its, WHO THE HELL WANTS TO SEE THAT IN THE CATALOG? Ladies, correct me if I’m wrong, but when you think of Victoria’s Secret, do you think “I need a new turtleneck” or do you think “How can I make my boobs look bigger?” Yeah, that’s what I thought.

On another note, while perusing the catalog (ah, perusing, thats a good way to describe it), I took a look at the back cover to figure out how it ended up in our apartment. Sometimes Sachin brings home magazines from the doctors he visits for work, but I couldn’t imagine that a doctor’s office would have a Victoria’s Secret catalog just chilling in the waiting room. Perhaps it was addressed to one of the apartment’s previous (female) tenants?

Nope, this one was definitely addressed to my roommate. And it didn’t seem like they got his name from some random list, horribly mispelling it during the mailing process (a la “Mrs. Chenandler Bong”). His full name was spelled perfectly….yes, his FULL name. They even had his middle name on there!

Whatever he did to get himself on that list, I’m happier for it.