Mar 12 2010
Living mannequins!
Hey great, you found a way to make creepy mannequins even more nightmarish!
Maybe it’s because I accidentally said “excuse me” to a mannequin once, or maybe it’s because female mannequins with erect nipples honestly turn me on a little, I don’t know but I just sort of feel animosity towards them. They stand there judging you with their perfect bodies and handless wrists, convincing you to buy shit at Old Navy that you don’t even like. They suck you in with their spell and make you ponder unthinkable things like, “maybe those Dockers would look good on me.”
Mannequins are assholes, but living mannequins are the poo that squeezes out of that asshole. I feel dumb enough at the mall without some vapid, shiny model giving me the stink-eye while I check out the crotch of their jeans. I’m sorry, I just need to see if it’s a zipper or a button fly. I can’t help it if you happen to be wearing those jeans as I slowly run my pizza-covered hands up the inner thigh of the Levi’s I may or may not purchase. Who told you to be a fucking mannequin for a living?
The word mannequin, when broken down to its Latin roots, literally translates to.. how the fuck do I know what it means? I just know it doesn’t mean 19-year-old-dumb-model-standing-there-making-me-feel-uncomfortable-while-I’m-staring-at-her-nipples.
