My Thoughts From The Front Row Of The VS Fashion Show

Dillon Cheverere11 years ago

Angel wings? You serious? “Um, ma’am, you’re welcome in our establishment, but will you please leave your gigantic fucking Angel wings outside? Please. What are you working with there, like a 12-foot wingspan? This is the real world, lady.”

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show isn’t so much about fashion as it is about celebrating the female form. It’s an hour plus long visual spectacle wherein the top 1% of the top 1% of the top 1% of the most attractive women on the planet starve themselves for months, pop uppers before show time, and wear outlandish, skimpy clothing to parade their perfectly-crafted asses up and down a runway while the rest of the world looks on in amazement (men) and jealousy (women). And it’s awesome. The list of attendees at this event reads like a who’s who of pop culture icons and powerful business players, and all the commoners in the building “knew a guy.” I imagine it’s tough to get inside the building.

So, no, you morons, I obviously didn’t sit front row at the 2013 VS Fashion Show. I didn’t rub elbows with Jay Z and the Biebs, and I didn’t prop my size 11s up on the runway like a boss. You can imagine what it’d be like if I did, though, right?

The VS Fashion Show begins as Katy Perry’s “Roar” blares throughout the building. Models begins walking the runway.

I can’t believe I’m here. This is awesome. Much excitement. I wonder what the boner protocol is at this event. You know, I bet the strip club boner rule applies here — the standard tuck rule. I assume it’s understood that many crowd boners will be had, but it’s common decency to keep them out of sight. Waistband tucks for days. Oh shit, there’s Biebs over there. That little lesbian’s pants might catch fire when this show heats up.

Adriana Lima walks down the runway with the iconic VS Angel wings on.

Oooh, here comes Adriana. That girl fine, a VSFS veteran, and she still brings the thunder after all these years. You know what, though, she looks a little weathered, a little haggard, well, for a Victoria’s Secret model anyway. Don’t get me wrong, though. I’d still trip an old lady and push a toddler over for a chance to make a run at her. I bet my drunk neighbor Gary is pissing himself right now. That dude always talks about this chick. Side note: Justin Bieber is clearly a closet homosexual, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Candice Swanepoel appears on stage wearing sexy lingerie and struts down the runway as the crowd gasps with astonishment.

I wonder how close I could get to her before getting clotheslined by security. I’m sneaky fast, man. I bet I could get a finger on her. I’ll sprint down the runway like Usain Bolt in the 100m and dive at her from about 20 feet out. I’ll slide right into her stiletto and creep a finger up her heel and onto on her ankle until I get the hook from those two monsters in black t-shirts sitting stage-side. If I get a good enough jump on them, I’ll alternate my route and swing by the Biebs’ seat and kick the sunglasses off his face. Man! This girl makes me want to cut off my penis and throw it at her just so I could tell all my boys back home that my penis actually touched Candice Swanepoel. I’m sure I’d get in an assload of trouble, though. They’d book me on assault and probably some other trumped-up, totally arbitrary charges just to stick it to me. And I can’t be “penis thrower guy” out in the real world. That’s a bad look. Look at Biebs across the way, staring up at Candice behind his sunglasses. That little Canadian pile of fuck wouldn’t know what to do with this South African dime piece.

Fall Out Boy takes the stage in preparation for their live performance. I nudge Jay Z in the seat next to me and ask him who the hell just took the stage. Jigga ignores me.

So, Jay Z is kinda an asshole. Can’t even exchange a few words with me, Z? Whatever. Well, this performance will at least be a good chance to let my chub subside some, with these skinny-jeaned boners prancing around on stage. If one of them trips during their first song and falls in my lap, he’d likely lose an eye. Look at these idiots. I bet Bieber listens to this crap.

Doutzen Kroes finally hits the catwalk wearing a tiny number that reveals much of her ass.

Hottest woman on the planet? I don’t know. Probably. Why you asking me, dipshit? Well, she’s up there. Way up there. Just look at that body. It’s perfect. I need to exit the building before a mere female mortal is no longer sexually appealing to me. These women are not human. I may end up asexual like Bieber over there.

The show ends as confetti remains slowly falling from the rafters above. The crowd files out soon after. I remain in my seat, awestruck from the Doutzen ass and unable to move my legs from severe blood deprivation.

My girlfriend is fucking ugly and I hate her.