Get On Your Boots

This morning I visited the YouTube front page… I can’t remember why, when I spotted a recent video for a U2 song. having been a fan on and off for the last mrrghhteen years, I decided to watch it. A few seconds into it I realized there were a few size-difference crumbs being thrown my way, and I enjoy sharing those crumbs whenever I get the chance of it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNmYcz-ULF0

All the high-quality versions of this video seem to have embedding disabled, so I’m posting a link to the U2 video. I’d watch the high-quality version, so as to more easily spot the brief moments that seem to include either a very tiny U2, or very tall ladies in their surroundings. It ain’t much, but my shrunken-man radar definitely beeped a few times while I was watching it.

The song’s guitar “hook” makes me feel nauseated, not only because it’s a demonstration of how U2 isn’t what it used to be, but also because it’s tired, boring, annoying, and forgettable. Still, the video has some moments that include giantess or shrunken man-like perspectives, so I can’t dismiss it completely even though I know I’ll never have another The Unforgettable Fire.

1. Twenty-five seconds into the video, we see the group performing downstage from a cluster of boulder-sized candies apples. In my childhood I hated those things, and still do. If you are gonna eat an apple, just eat it. Don’t coat it with melted sugar. It ruins the appleness of an apple. But never mind me, as I’m not that big on candy.

2. One minute and eighteen seconds later U2 continues to sing and play as a couple of comparatively tall women stand nearby, all dressed up for Halloween. I don’t know when this video came out, but I’m going to guess October 31.

3. If you were singing and knew that right behind you there was a face as big as a wall equipped with lips that could probably swallow you whole, you’d look over your shoulder too.

4. Some collagers like to place helicopters or jets flying by whatever mayhem a giantess is creating. You know who they are. This scene of tiny jets speeding by the giantess as she prepares to stupidly swallow a bullet one minute and thirty-six seconds into the video reminded me of those folks.

5. The best part of 1:37 comes right after, when she blows away that army with her breath. I wanna do that!

There are more fleeting moments similar to the above (or below) in the video, including some fancy black boots. My verdict: I find the song guilty of suckcide in the first degree, and the video innocent of all charges.

U2 and candied apples.

Giantesses in funny costumes.

Bono glancing at the giantess behind him.

Tiny jets zooming by her giant lips.

Those are small toy soldiers.

In other news, I had a great dream last night: a member of the giantess community (someone that doesn’t exist) had written an awesome giantess story about me that became an animated B&W film.

Tom Thumb

He's just the right size...

It’s Saturday, so that means…

RANDOM COLLAGE TIME!

No, it’s not. It’s not random at all. In fact, there are no more random Saturday collages and I’m officially sick and tired of that bit, so this will be the last time I use it. I began this collage back in October 2007. I found the background, and I thought it unusual (in a good way) because the woman’s hand was not exactly manicured in that way hands typically are when used in handheld collages.

I think that’s why I saved it. It reminded me of my hands. Because of what I do, it’s impossible for me to have beautifully manicured hands most of the time. My nails constantly break, and I keep them short, the length shown in this picture… although I like my more oblong nail plates a bit better.

Anybody that knows a thing or one about me, knows that while I like to picture in my mind all manner of shrunken-man sizes, I think the perfect height for a little guy is two inches. Despite- or maybe because of that fact, no dialogue between that little guy and the giant hand (hahah) came to mind as I worked on this collage.

Or maybe it’s because the very tall owner of that hand is asleep, and the shrunken man is enjoying a quiet, romantic moment with her thumb. Or he’s memorizing her thumbprint lines as he runs his perfect little fingertip along those giant grooves, or perhaps pressing his ear onto the pad and picking up the pulsating beat of her heart from that small place. I don’t know. Things like that render words unnecessary.

Hall & Oates – One On One

Norma Shearer and my 10,000th visitor

Giantess Norma Shearer

According to my sources, earlier this afternoon I received my 10,000th visitor, and days ago I finished the Norma Shearer collage above. I love old movies, but I can’t recall ever watching any with her. I will have to change that soon, but when I uploaded the image I decided I would discover a connection between it and the aforementioned blog viewer. As you can see, I thought of doing that many hours before I knew a thing about my 10,000 visitor.

My findings were shocking. See for yourself. Lettuce begin.

My 10,000 visitor is in Edmonton, Alberta, so I assume s/he is Canadian. Norma Shearer was born in Montreal, Quebec, fact that makes her Canadian.

My 10,000 visitor- let’s call him “Ed”, views giantess content through the Internet using Shaw Cable. J. R. Shaw is the executive chairman of Shaw Communications. Norma Shearer was in a film titled Upstage with Oscar Shaw: it’s about a woman in a circus act that gets a big head about her place in the world. And who has the biggest head in the world? A giantess!

I know. You just fell off your chair. But wait, there’s more.

The Edmonton, Yukon, & Pacific Railway Company operated from 1902 until 1929. Ms. Shearer got on a train to New York to try her luck as an actress. Not only that, but in one of her films, she was on a train as well. And she was born in the year 1902! Oh. My. God.

Edmonton’s tallest building is the Manulife Place, which was completed in 1983, the year Norma Shearer died. The building boasts 42 floors, and guess the release year of Shearer’s last film, Her Cardboard Lover. That’s right! 1942! Not only that, but 42 is the answer to everything!

Here, you look like you need this.

You must be strong, for there is more.

Ed’s Edmonton is known as “The Festival City”, as it plays host to several large festivals each year. One of those is the Freewill Shakespeare Festival. You can imagine the role Ms. Shearer played opposite Leslie Howard’s Romeo in 1936.

Edmontonians like big things, and I’m not only talking about imaginary women of shocking height, but also architectural structures. Edmonton is the home of a few “largest” places, such as the largest composting facility in the world, and the West Edmonton Mall, the largest in North America. And who is the largest person in the above collage? Norma Shearer!

Alright, I’m done. I do want to mention that I think it’s statistically interesting I know of at least a couple of giantess fans from Edmonton, and as far as I can tell, I have yet to receive a single giantess-related visit from anyone in my native country. I doubt I’m the only person among those particular millions of people that has these size-related fantasies, so I’ll continue to look for that tricolor in my blog stats.

Daniel Nassoy’s Views

I’m poking around my WordPress admin area, trying to find a blog theme that fulfills my every dream and does the laundry as well, but no luck so far. I also fiddled with my Firefox bookmarks during the weekend, and deleted a large number of them that I originally intended to use in collages. A few are no longer part of the Internet, and others had to go because I will never have time to use them.

Among them I found Manstouch, a gallery of male nude photography and art I bookmarked before I began to have certain ideas about the source of materials I wanted to use for my collages. The reason I saved the link was a series of images titled “Views”, by Daniel Nassoy. They are displayed below, and as you can see they are all about shrunken men, several of them trapped in glass bottles or jars.

Here’s what Mr. Nassoy writes about his images:

My work and photography can be summed up in a single word, ESCAPE. Whether it is through black and white photographs of gardens, flowers, architecture, or through an enduring passion for male nudes, or even through reworking colour photos on the computer, I am looking for Evasion. In my photography I am escaping, and everybody who sees my photos can also dream and escape. Photography allows me the time, to look, to admire, to sublimate and communicate my passion and sometimes my fantasies.

A-ha! Fantasies about tiny men encapsulated in various interesting containers, I think.

View 1

View 2

View 3

View 4

View 5

View 6

Signs of a Happy Valentine’s Day

I was going to write a poem to go with this,
perhaps some other time.
In the meantime, pretend this is a poem
though nothing in it rhymes.

Have a happy Valentine’s Day
may you spend it in her shoe.
The above is a bathroom sign
for ladies taller than you.

They need a special place
to take their little men.
Too small to reach the toilet
too little to flush the can.

But what does that have to do
with this celebration of love?
I don’t know.
I just like signs.

And straight lines.

I posted this at my old blog two years ago.

I’d been wanting to come up with signs similar to those used for vehicular traffic, so when I found the original background somewhere on the Internet, I thought I could steal edit it and have fun with it. I created a few signs based on the female and male shapes, and tried different hearts to go along with them.

The above gifs are my favorite ones, and since they are gifs, they are animated. I think I might have entered the initial sign with the stylized red heart for an image contest two years ago (or longer), but I don’t remember.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

It’s Saturday, so that means…

RANDOM COLLAGE TIME!

It's a direct hit.

I created this collage for a Valentine’s Day image contest at the GDC, a contest I won, by the way. I’m always going to say I won every contest I entered, even though it’s a big fat lie. I’ll constantly claim other people are lying when they tell you “someone else” won it. I don’t rightly recall about whom those people are doing the untruthing in this case, but it might have been JR.

I really like the reds and brown in this image, and the interaction worked out very well for my imagination as well. Love between a woman and a little guy dressed as cupid (or the very god himself), love all the way down to the floor, love in their eyes as her face looms over his bitty body, love in their smiles, and love in that arrow as it pierces her heart… lovely.

Real Life – Send Me an Angel

Happy Semesteversary, Hug the Undersquid!

At this very moment, my blog is six months old. It feels like two or three. I’m asleep right now (this entry has been scheduled to be published hours from now), so I’ll return later for some fun-filled, blog-related facts.

Later…

Hi again,

I’ve been blogging for six months, and while that’s no big feat, I’m fond of what I’ve expressed through this blog, which is more than I’ve put up at any other blog of mine, even my old giantess blog.

Some fun-filled blog facts:

• Near the moment my blog turned six months old, I received my 9,418th visitor. While I know that other blogs out there get that many visitors a week (heck, they get that many a day, sometimes an hour), it still feels damn mighty peachy to receive visitors, plenty of whom actually stay and rifle through my entries.

• I love to look at my Sitemeter blog statistics and see all the people from different countries that come to visit, the times that they visit, and how they got here. My 9,418th visitor was from Mumbai, India. He or she searched for terms that showed the way to my Tiny Coworker entry. The search terms indicate they weren’t looking for bitty men exposed to office settings, but that only makes guessing their reaction more fun.

• The most popular entry at this point is Fake Movie Posters. Clicks to it outnumber any other entry by the hundreds, and it probably gets hits every day… perhaps because having giantess / shrunken man fantasies is not a requirement for enjoying such images.

• The most popular click (meaning an image or link that’s not a post or a page, but certainly found in a post or page) is trinket999’s Looking-Glass World blog. Seriously, c’mon! What a blow to my self-esteem as a blogger! My visitors CAN’T WAIT to leave me for another blog. Why? What does he give you that I don’t? Oh, but you’ll come back to me… just wait and see. Actually, trinket’s blog is my all-time top referrer. This back-and-forth clickety clicking of blog readers (or viewers) is the most awesome thing about having blog buddies.

• The most popular click at my blog, one that’s not an external link that sends you to another website, is this image:
  

  Who can blame you? It is a cool collage.

• The search engine term that sends me the most visitors is “undersquid”, followed by “giantess”. In fourth place is “shrunken men”, with not 1/4 the amount of searches the word “giantess” gets. Why? Why the little-guy dissing, Internets? Seriously, I see a wonderful increase from times before, which means more people are looking for little men.

• The most disappointed visitors are those that end up here after searching for “cricket crush” and “shrunken women”. Sorry, neither is going to be covered here. The ones I’m most sorry to disappoint are those lovely people looking for “male toes”. I understand you, I really do.

I’m done, though I’ll probably be back with another excuse to celebrate when I get my 10,000th visitor. Have a nice Valentine’s Day weekend!

Kool & The Gang – Celebration

O Shoes

Love 'em.

I was [browser] window shopping for shoes last night when I found this pair of purple Mary Janes. I’m aware you are not exactly the sort of target audience for women’s shoes and clothes and jewelry, and while this is the sort of thing I usually share with my family or at Facebook, I wanted to place a little man between the shoes and I can’t do that for any place but here.

For $28.30, this is a really cheap pair of shoes and that means I would get what I pay for… so I’ll probably wait until I can find a pair of better quality, though no one can stop me from dreaming of them, and fantasizing about the clothes I would wear at the same time. I picked a purple blouse, and looked for plaid mustard-and-purple pants, but impossible to find. A second best is a lovely black skirt.

And since I love/hate jewelry, I would either wear a very simple silver chain, or now that my hair is a bit longer, either of these barrettes with red stones. Yes, red. Purple stones alone would be too easy and boring. Then I’d grab my shrinking spray and I’d be all set to conquer the world in style.

.

Please ignore that last line. I was just typing out loud.

Miss Epil ads

Binoculars

Compass

Map

I found these ads just a few minutes ago. I hereby claim I’ll return to my blog later and share some thoughts about them. Have a nice morning!

A million years later….

You know, women are naturally hairy. That was the title of an ancient thread started by someone very clever at a giantess board that no longer exists, and it’s also the truth. I returned to it quite a few times to read what people had to share, and it showed me that what I’ve experienced throughout life is also reflected in people’s opinions.

It’s nice to know that some of us realize women were not born hairless creatures, nor do we grow to be such. Everyone (I don’t know of any disorders that affect this, but I imagine there must be some) has vellus hair. Male or female, regardless of age, most parts of our bodies are covered by this peach fuzz that’s more or less visible depending on various factors, one of them ethnicity. I don’t believe men or women worry about vellus hair as they are concerned with terminal hair, the darker, thicker, longer hair that many men (and women) lose from their heads, and grow on other parts of their bodies: arms, legs, backs, face, etc.

This latter terminal hair is what women (and even some men) struggle to make disappear or seem less visible. Whatever process is chosen hurts more often than not, and has repercussions on the skin’s health. Whether one uses a less invasive method, and applies a depilatory cream that contains chemicals designed to “melt” the hair (and it’s never below skin level, no matter what commercials say), or one rips hair and skin layers with sugars or waxes or a shaving razor, the choice one makes must be repeated (even treatments that are supposed to rid one of hair “permanently” must take place several times).

I’d like to think the day will come that a woman won’t think herself less feminine because her legs are covered with hair, and she won’t rip the hair off her arms because no other woman on TV, or in school, or at her office has hair on her arms the way she does. I doubt that day will come soon, given how in some cultures people have been working hard to get rid of unwanted hair for many centuries.

I’m sometimes annoyed by my body hair, despite the fact that it has never affected me adversely in relationships, and it’s often been the target of compliments by weird nice gentlemen. I sometimes work hard to get rid of it, and my screams can be heard across several states. I’m no stranger to Nad’s, Nair, and the rest of those brands.

My epic battles with unwanted hair don’t really enter the heavy, naughty core of my fantasies on a daily basis, but every once in a while I approach the matter in playful, deeply romantic terms, and generally in shrinking scenarios. When I’m a giantess in my mind, I don’t spend much time picturing myself worried about body hair. I’m mostly changing geography or the weather while romancing my little man, or battling a monster giantess, or slipping between buildings to peek into little windows, etc.

So, if you ever spot a woman’s arms or legs or armpits and realize she has more hair on them that you do, don’t point or jeer or laugh. She doesn’t have a disorder, and she’s perfectly normal. In fact, she’s braver than most the moment she decides to stop tearing off skin layers and to spend her life as comfortable with her genetic heritage as her male counterparts have been for countless generations.

I still like the shrunken men in these ads, though. Put little men on an ad for anything, and I’ll love it: dolphin-laden tuna, Mentos, diapers, even *gasp* Grape-Nuts, and I’ll fall for it. I’m that easy.

OK, maybe I wouldn’t love the Grape-Nuts ad… unless the shrunken man was advertising the fact that he can use those disgusting nuggets as bricks to build a tiny home, or as cannonballs, or paper-boat anchors, or anything else also heavy, hard, and inedible.

* * *

Advertising Agency: Lowe Strateus, Paris, France
Creative Director: Vincent Behaeghel
Art Director: Olivier Minet
Copywriter: Maxime Landsheere
Illustrator 3D: Nicolas Marrocco
Photographer: David Ledoux

Quickie

But perhaps not quickly forgotten.

“Can I call you sometime?”

She just smiled as though he was a little pet performing a trick, and slipped back into her dress, which cascaded down her body like a black waterfall.

“Well, can I?” he asked again as he zipped up his pants.

Still no answer.

“What’s your name?”

“Little one, what do you think happened here?”

“Well, I was trying to reach the hors d’œuvre tray, and when no one was looking you invited me here-”

“I think I just grabbed ya.”

“Well, yes. You… nudged me into this room.”

“I picked you up and didn’t bother to remove your shirt.” She had finished smoothing out her hair, which had fallen in fetching disarray not ten minutes before. His neck began to pinch painfully and he stopped staring up at her. His heart sank.

“I take it this was just a one time thing then.”

“Now you are catching on,” she said, and smiled again as she winked. She didn’t look back before she left the room to rejoin the party, her high heels echoing in the hallway and matching the pounding in his chest as they melted into music and chatter.

Alone in the room, he stared at the moving arms on his Mickey Mouse watch, knowing he had to wait a couple of minutes before following her.

I don’t think so, he thought as he waited. I bet I can make you come back for more.

* * *

No, I’m not watching the Superbowl thingie. I had two choices: Watch the Superbowl thingie, or work. Naturally, I chose to blog.

I found the background for this image nearly two years ago, and finally matched it with a little guy when I searched the gallery of a photographer that specializes in Spanish soap opera (telenovela) actor portfolios.

I don’t know why, but his male subjects are often looking up, or adopting defensive or fearful poses, while his female subjects can be found sprawled on the floor looking at no place in particular where I can easily insert* a little guy. Imagine how excellent I think that is for my perverted collaging purposes.

*Oh, stop. Not that kind of insertion.

As always, while I collaged those two kept chatting it up in the manner described above, so I thought I’d share it. OK, back to the coal mines.

Music, maestro!

The Pipettes – One Night Stand