#20 I Hate Victoria's Secret Pink

Seriously, what is the deal with this place? Someone had the genius idea to create a pair of sweatpants with the word pink stamped on the ass, and teeny bopping girls and sorority sisters became so enthralled that now, Victoria's Secret Pink is it's own store.  Half-witted girls all over the country have truly been "tickled pink" by this wondrous new creation.  I guess I can understand my 13 year old cousin Maddie being entranced by the polka dotted tank tops and brightly colored underwear, but why are college coeds throughout the nation strolling through campus in "University of Pink" sweatshirts?

That unequivocally may be the most preposterous thing I have ever seen.  The University of Pink surely does not exist and if it did I could not imagine a place I would rather stay away from.  No part of me understands the ideology behind the creation of this concocted university. Not only is it ridiculous, but all of it is completely hideous with its splatter paint, fake jeweled applications, and sprinklings of glitter (see #18, I Hate White Trash). 

There was also the revolting Phi Beta Pink party, which I believe was promoted by none other than my favorite girl, Heidi Montag (#17 I Hate the Hills).  So, now pink goes from being a university to a sorority.  How perfect!  Of course sorority girls love pink, so it would only make sense, for them to become sisters of the queen of all sororities, Phi Beta Pink. 

The infamous pink sweatpants are equally abominable, as is really having any word on your ass past sophomore year of high school.  If you are going to have any word placed on your ass, it might as well be slut, because that is what you are if you have an ass word in the first place.  I guess I thought our tennis sweatpants emblazoned with "nice ace" were somewhat comical, but that was high school and I like to think my fashion sense has suitably changed from my young days of umbro shorts, overalls, tie dye.  

And no, at the check out line I do not want a small pink stuffed polka dotted dog.  The sales associates and idiots who shop there act like this is some sort of one of a kind collector's item. What the hell am I supposed to do with that other than give it to Whinston to tear to pieces?