Patti (whipartist) wrote,
Patti
whipartist

Scary

Horrid Bedroom I'm on a lot of catalog mailing lists-- tons. I have no idea how some of the companies have found me, since I've never heard of them, but they seem eager to send me big piles of paper. In the last week alone, I've gotten catalogs for Calumet Photo, Design Within Reach, Eddie Bauer, a couple of random small clothing companies, a couple of housewares sorts of companies, and a cheerleader supply catalog. (Go ahead, say it.)

Whenever these bundles of tree-wasting joy show up in my mailbox, I hop over to the company's website and ask them to please stop sending me their stuff. Usually they're happy to oblige. Once I actually called the company rather than sending email, and it was a rather cheerful if disturbing seven-minute conversation. "Do you want to be removed from just this company, or all our companies?" "All of them, please." She proceeded to spend five minutes walking through all the companies in here system, about a dozen total, and removing me one-by-one from their mailing lists. That one was the fallout from ordering a single bra online. No doubt they spent more on one run of catalog mailings to me than they got in profit from that order.

Today I discovered a new one-- a company called SeventhAdvenue.com. Have you heard of them? I hadn't. As I was turning to toss the catalog into the trash, it fell open to this page.

I know it's designed for little girls, but criminy. Is that not the most horrifying bedroom you've ever seen? It looks like a whole stampede of My Little Ponies threw up in a faux fur factory, then ran for their lives. The pig at the bottom of the bed is holding his head up high, but he's only proud because he has no eyes-- he can't see the pastel abomination that he's guarding. And check out the bear on the nightstand thing. Is he watching you? Oh yes, yes he is. He's just waiting for you to try diddling for the first time so he can run off and tell your parents. He knows what you're up to, oh yes.

If I was seven years old and somebody tried to make me stay in that room, I'd never get to sleep. I'd be too afraid the comforter was going to come alive and smother me in the middle of the night. Who could blame it? If I looked like that I'd be out for revenge too, and I wouldn't be too picky about my victims.
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