Category Archives: I hate TV but…

The Boost Mobile giantess commercial

…does not exist. I wish it did. Tonight I was out where there was a TV, and when this commercial came on, for a tiniest moment I felt a flutter of hope in my heart that the large figure on the floor of a grocery store would be a giant woman. Instead a sad giant took her rightful place. Oh, well. :)

I bemoan these misguided commercials in good cheer. I’ve known since the beginning of my exploration of media as a source of material to enjoy, that it would offer very little in the way of a perfect scenario. And let’s be frank, a flawless commercialization of just about any product w0uld involve devastatingly handsome shrunken men doing things that don’t render them ridiculous.

While watching the commercial I also though that any position in the service industry is what I’ve always fantasized about when I try to picture what my job would be if I was at least a mini giantess. But I think my favorite occupation is still that of a professional Building Washer, or a Tree Puller. I’d do such a good job!

THE Mike Old Navy Commercials

I think I just creamed my skirts. A beautiful tiny man in a commercial, and not one lady grabs him and has her way with him in the middle of the store, on a pile of new garments!? Doesn’t anyone know how to make commercials anymore?

(Later….) Good heavens. I just watched a bunch of THE Mike commercials, and I think I’m going to pass out from extreme arousal. Now I can only hope THE Mike creates a fake blog so I can stalk him and post naughty things and my phone number and which finger I use while watching which commercial. That will make Old Navy make more of them! Right? RIGHT?!?!

Oh man… I am in pain. Blue lady balls. Ouch.

Now that I’ve recovered my composure, I’ll mention I’m amazed I hadn’t heard of these commercials before. Not watching TV and not scouring Giantess City for quality threads among the painfully ridiculous does come with a price. Thank goodness for YouTube!

THE Mike Presents Crops
A cute one that features one of my favorite things to do to a tiny man upon meeting him: bending over to get a closer look.

THE Mike Presents Shorts
I love that surprised gasp! I can imagine it multiplied manifold for his tiny size. I can imagine the air she sucks in when she inhales sharply is a breeze in reverse, one that startles him from behind as it passes him on its way to her. I can imagine it occurs to him it’s only a prelude to heavier breathing.

THE Mike Presents Cargos
This one is the best. The tall man talking to the little one, the little one yapping back at him, and why oh why can’t the tall one take him home with them and teach him a lesson? They could both teach him many lessons all night, and then in the morning when the lady woman is in the bathroom the tall one can learn the little one a last time.

Dear men:

Please know that just as you have lesbian fantasies, women have gay fantasies. Loads of them. About you and your best friend. Sorry, but he’s hot.

Much love,

Undersquid

THE Mike Presents Uniforms
The least enjoyable of the set, as hot Mike chats it up with children. It makes my lady balls shrink away in frightened distaste. I imagine it feels this way when people pop in a DVD thinking they’re gonna watch porn, and instead they are forced to watch PETA slaughterhouse footage. Yesitsawonderfulanalogy!

THE Mike Presents Swimwear
Sweet, but little Mike should have been nearly naked for this one. Why dost thou faileth me thus, Old Navy? Why?

THE Mike: 30% Off
Cute. It fits right with my fantasies of purchasing a tiny man marketed as the iPet.

“Hi, I’m just a piece of dust…”

You’ve probably seen those funny Swiffer product commercials. A few days ago I was visiting someone that has cable, and one about the Swiffer 360 Duster came on. The volume was low or muted because there was conversation going on, but I lost all thread of it when I saw that tiny man emerge from between keys on a keyboard.

It’s as though someone inserted a porn DVD in a player, and it began to play, and everyone ignored while I tried really hard to concentrate on everything but the TV screen. I found it online but I can’t embed it directly in my blog. It’s here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCiJzpMtqZM

Or here:

http://www.swiffer.com/en_US/duster.do

Granted, the little speck of a man should really look like this:

What a gorgeous man!

But we can’t always have what we want. However visually wanting I may find the insignificant particle of a man, what he says is almost unbearably hot. If I ever meet a man that introduces himself by saying, “hi, I’m a speck of dust,” my lady parts will probably explode. Anything similar will do. Examples:

“Hi, I’m a very small particle!”

“Hi, I’m nearly invisible to the naked eye!”

“Hi, I’m so very minute you might need a microscope to see me clearly!”

“Hi, I’m so tiny my clothes will rip like tissue when you pull them from my body!”

“Hi, I fit in the palm of you hand so please have your way with me!”

*sigh*

Batgiantess

Who needs Batman when we have Batgiantess?

Every once in a while I experience bad dreams in batches. These past few nights have been pretty rough in the nightmare department. I think it’s my brain’s way of balancing things out because I never had them when I was a child. Or I don’t remember having them, which amounts to the same thing. Last night involved the end of all life as we knew it because we (humans) became food for monsters. These monsters utilized dragons and robots to gather us, the same way we use tractors to harvest a field of wheat.

There was a moment in the dream during which I happened to find myself running for my life alongside the enormous paw of a dragon as it pulverized the street and surrounding buildings. I remember thinking in the dream, “What if that were to be the foot of a giantess? My foot?” Later I thought how funny it was that even during a dream, my dream self will suddenly find herself wondering about this stuff.

That’s not to say I imagine I’ll ever fantasize about being a giantess if my life is ever in real peril. I don’t think the adrenaline and whatever survival imperative functioning at that moment (“rescue family” or “kill intruder” or “put out fire” or whatever) will allow for anything masturbatory to take place simultaneously. God I hope not. I’m already abnormal enough as it is.

Days ago I was searching for collaging material —who knows why since I have no time for the activity these days, and when I do have time I spend it doing other things I find more fun— and I found this image of Heidi Jensen, an actress who was once in an episode of Batman. I trimmed it a bit as you see above and it makes for such a great perspective shot, don’t you think? I used to watch Batman reruns when I was a toddler, and I can’t help but think it would have been fantastic if somehow a giantess would have managed to make her way into an episode or two. I could have used her in my dream as well. She would have made quick work of those dragons and robots.

Why can’t Tina Fey be a man?

Posted on

Is it too much to ask?

Last night I was reading the news online when I saw a link about Tina Fey having hosted SNL. Though I haven’t watched that show on TV for years, every once in a while I catch it online, if the host is someone I like. Tina Fey is one of those people that gives me the insane impression We Could Be Friends If We’d Only Meet. You know what I mean. I’m sure you get the same feeling with Bill O’Reilly or John Malkovich. :D You’d be tight, foo! I’d also be BFF with Sandra Bullock. Anyway, when I found out Tina Fey had made fun of someone because of Sandra Bullock, I had to search the webses for the episode.

Remember when SNL was funny? This episode felt like that. It felt a little like a hug from Phil Hartman, or a lick on the cheek by Chris Farley; but not the musical guest’s performances, which felt like a fart from Dennis Miller. But all the giggling stopped midstream when a sketch began in which Tina Fey is a nine-inch-tall prostitute.

It could have had it all....

It could have had it all....

Then I entered that territory we all know too well. We know it because we’ve seen countless threads in forums about it. It’s the If Only They’d Done It 100% Differently So I Could Masturbate To It Syndrome. I typically roll my eyes at those outcries, especially when the video, commercial, or ad that causes frustration doesn’t brush uncomfortably past my own preferences.

But there are times that voice in my pants screams enraged because the bit of media before me isn’t doing what the pictures in my mind are, or worse, it almost does it… it extends a solemn promise by looking as though it will do it, and then it doesn’t.

In this case I was watching the sketch, and the simultaneous transmission in my head (you know the one I’m talking about, as you have one too) made Tina Fey into a tiny man that climbed all the way up that counter. A man that might have looked exactly like this…

…In other words, a really hot tiny guy, one forced to work the streets for money. Of course the other people in the sketch were women- oh, why lie? “Other people” was me! Me! And I wasn’t sitting there having a drink like an idiot when that speck of a man reached the top of that bar. I dropped my mug and picked him up instead. Then we did the sort of thing that left me extremely annoyed that Tina Fey is not Ioan Gruffudd.

The sketch was over, my heart was pounding, and I knew there is no one in the world that understand they way I feel except the few thousand people that have these thoughts. Except those vore folks. I don’t wanna get mixed up with them weirdos. :D

Men of a Certain Size

I spotted the above image while checking my Facebook wall, next to which there’s space that reads your mind or personal data, and applies it to publish ads it thinks interest you. Right now I’m looking at ads for cheaper car insurance, fashion inspired by horror films, and I can also sell Avon from my home.

Whatever the symbolism is of these three middle-aged men in a glass, I purposefully misunderstand it. I don’t intend to watch the show as I suspect it skips my demographic profile as effectively as a giantess leaping over buildings, but I like the image, as the idea of trapping a man in or under a glass is right up my alley.

“Why is it up your alley?” you ask, crudely feigning ignorance.

Because!

“No, really, why? Tell us in detail and don’t leave anything out.”

Oh, I’m going to leave tons out.

1. A shrunken man is, by nature, prone to misbehave

If I follow the pattern of my fantasies, it’s quite likely I abduct my shrunken man from our local library, where I see him first as he —still normal-sized— innocently peruses books. Maybe he’s going for a walk and happens to enter a lonely park. The end is the same: I stalk him, an when the time is right I spray him with my shrinking formula, he’s reduced to a mere two inches in height, and his life is no longer his. Family? Gone. Job? Forget it. Responsibilities? Only very small ones I assign to him at my whim.

A man in such a situation will want to rebel, just to make himself remember he is still a man, and not a bug-sized sex toy forced to live in a dollhouse, to sleep on a mattress stuffed with strands of female hair, to eat from the tip of a finger that reminds him in size of the tree trunks that stand in his old backyard, to perform at the drop of a skirt.

Believe me, I’ve seen it countless times. Every once in a while he reaches a level of exasperation that compels him to pound his chest with his minuscule fists as he yells, “No! No more!”

He might regress to a more primitive stage (I always tell him it’s on account of his infinitesimal brain) where he protests whatever imagined offense by hiding my jewelry, or scrubbing my toothbrush with his bottom, or even peeing in my shoes; all curious efforts to regain his dignity and stand his ground. What a silly man!

On such occasions it’s best to drive the lesson home as quickly and effectively as possible, and while there are better ways to do it, placing him under a glass (o simply dropping him in it) does wonders to remind him of the reality of his new situation. No words are necessary, as my action tells him loudly that:

  • He’s small enough to fit under a glass
  • He’s trapped in there, and there’s nothing he can do about it
  • He’s been a bad little man, so he’ll stay in there until he remembers his place
  • He’ll only be released when it suits my mood

2. A shrunken man is, by nature, a danger to himself

I understand that this is not a pleasant thought, and understandably, the woman that shrinks you is not going to explain any of this before she reduces you in size, but it’s true. Once you are two inches in height, your life becomes a constant effort to stay alive. Ants can kill you. Sunlight can kill you. Birds can kill you. The woman that keeps you captive can kill you. One of her toes can kill you! Heck, that’s probably why she shrank you.

So that little one better be grateful if one night she decides it’s safer if he sleeps under a glass. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s getting ready to go out without him, and it has no involvement whatsoever with not wanting to hear his squeaks of protest if she brings home a man her size. The thing it has to do with the least is her wanting to make him watch. It’s all about his safety. :D

But I’m sure the TV show has nothing to do with anything I just mentioned. Just as well. I’d have to buy baskets of lotion if it did.

3. Things are, by nature, hotter through glass

I said I was leaving tons out. If tons was in, it would be here.

Bones – The He in the She

Yep, I still love Bones. This episode opened with two half-baked fellows floating on the cloud of some undefined drug and sitting on the rocky edge of the water when the remains of a body (half of it, to be precise) wash off near them.

I still love Bones, but Sweets is annoying. I’m not sure why, but that I find him irksome doesn’t mean I don’t want his character in the show. He’s good for laughs and a great antithesis for Booth, who’s displayed patronizing contempt for him several times.

I think the best way for Sweets to leave the show (and I don’t want him to) would be for a serial killer to get his hands on him. At this point that’s the only way he’ll gain any of my sympathy, especially if his death brings back Zach. Zaaaaaach!!!

SlinkyNote to self: buy self a Slinky.

The part of Zach was played by Mr. Nigel-Murray, one bright grad student of forensic anthropology, his first name Vincent but called vino delectable by one of his girlfriends because of how his-

-And we don’t know how that sentence ends because he never finished it, but we can assume it relates to his flavor, and how good it is. I assume he stays away from coffee and strong-flavored foods, which can ruin a man’s sweetness and render him unlicked (and unliked).

Speaking of licking, I didn’t know tongue prints are as distinctive as fingerprints. In Advances in Biometrics it is stated that both tongue prints and the shape of the tongue can be successfully applied for identity verification, which gives me a hilarious image of people sticking out their tongues in order to obtain access to their bank accounts, or entry to art performances for which they have paid, etc.

That’s something cool I learned because of Bones as Mr. Nigel-Murray unnecessarily provided tidbits of random information, but not what was used to identify the victim. The serial number in the mammary implant found with the remains provided that, and it was only one sign the victim had undergone elective violence of cosmetic surgery. Another one was the eye sockets (or supraorbital limbi, if you want to get technical), which had been ground down long before death took place.

But now I interrupt this entry with the episode’s first aerial, also known as My Porn because aerial shots give me a delicious perspective on what it would be like to be a very tall giantess, one casually strolling near the United States Capitol building, which only rises to 289 feet.

Here Id put me over 300 feet in height.

Here I'd put me at over 300' in height.

But why stop there when I can grow much taller? I interrupt this interruption to reveal that this episode of Bones contains a scene of a mega giantess as she carefully tiptoes her way through Washington, D.C. because she’s not mindlessly murderous despite what you might think.

She knows what she’s doing as she avoids traffic and people and reaches Sweets’ office, bringing down one colossal foot down on it, flattening it instantly as he watches from his window and tugs furiously at his Slinky, only realizing his fate when it’s too late to escape. And who is that mega giantess?

Me, of course! It’s squishy time!

Why 300 feet tall when I can reach much greater heights?

Why 300' tall when I can reach much greater heights?

*sighs* If only the above were true.

Here are some other things I learned because of Bones:

  • I didn’t know what pelagic meant. Etymology: Latin pelagicus, from Greek pelagikos, from pelagos sea. Date: circa 1656. Of, relating to, or living or occurring in the open sea, such as “pelagic sediment”. Well, that explains the word “archipelago”. I love word origins.
  • The American shad flesh, despised by some and appreciated by others, was considered a delicacy in the 1800s, but that’s not what’s important about this fish. What you must know is that the male weighs 1-3 pounds, and the female is generally 3-8 pounds, therefore sexually dismorphic in that awesome way that we giantesses are.
  • Being topless is illegal in Liverpool unless you are a saleswoman at a tropical fish store. Now, there are such stores in Liverpool, but last I checked no one has taken advantage of this legal idiocy, if it’s true at all.
  • Is it true that women blink twice as often as men? I’m not going to go along with that until I see some scientific evidence. There’s a purpose for blinking and I know I do it very often because of the sad state of my contact lenses.
  • Gunwale is pronounced gunnel. Seriously, what’s up with that? It’s a miracle I ever learned English, and I still remember when I thought Newfoundland was pronounced new, found, land; and don’t get me started on Worcestershire.
  • Catholic also means broad in tastes, sympathies, or interests, such as “a catholic enjoyment of shrinking fantasies”.

One more reason I enjoy Bones so much is the banter between Bones and Booth about religion or sexuality. Bones is always open to debating the rituals she observes, sometimes as they are happening, and Booth stands firm in his Catholic (as in Roman) beliefs even though Bones renders him speechless, which is what she did when comparing the “vanity” of a pastor undergoing plastic surgery, and that one of the Pope wearing expensive articles of clothing.

I do remember when I was a child and received the Eucharist, thinking secretly that it didn’t taste anything like blood, and wondering what gave the priest the arrogance to state (not in these words) he had done anything at a molecular level to alter what clearly tasted like sour grapes.

Not the Aesop ones.

Back to the show: the other half of the body is found, and if you ever find the lower remains of a body, you’ll be able to tell if they are female when you find a ventral arc, a ridge of bone in the pubis that’s not found in males. They have their own ridges of bone in their heart-shaped pelvic girdle, but getting into that would only be fun for me.

Anyway, a flustered Booth appears to get bent out of shape when the lower half of the victim turns out to be male; it turns out it costs about $25,000 in Thailand to get a sex change operation; a point is made about Zach being locked up for the rest of his life (Zaaaaaach!!!); only 1% of all deaths are murders (an astronomical percentage); all tributaries to the most beautiful thing that was said during the episode: bodies are like book dust covers.

Lays Tiny Man commercials

So, last night I woke up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, so I came online for a few minutes before I returned to bed. I visited my blog admin area, and it tickled me to see a term someone had googled to stumble upon my blog was “two-inch-tall man”.

Well, of course.

Some of the other Google results for that group of words were related to serial killers (none two inches tall), and a couple others I got to see had to do with two Lays Potato Chips Singles commercials that I think were released early this year. I don’t have cable, so they are both brand new to me. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy them!

Which is more than I can say about the place where I found out about them, some board about bad TV ads. These ads, bad? That’s crazy. They are both close to the best porn commercials I’ve ever seen! They don’t exactly make me want to go out and eat chips, but c’est la tee vie.

I am going to go out and buy a bag of that brand anyway, just to show my support for a company that produces such good porn chip commercials.

Bones – The Crank in the Shaft

Gunky hoistways are not good for the digestion.

Gunky hoistways are not good for the digestion.

I’ve been watching Bones for years now, and this is the first episode I actually felt something close to repugnance, which surprised me. I’ve seen fake corpses covered with maggots of different sizes, I’ve watched fake melted bodies in a tub of goo, I’ve clapped at a truckful of garbage Hodgins had to sift through as he identified different putrefied matter by smell, and I’ve generally been a Mary Poppins (you know, with the cheerful disposition, and probably a couple of rosy cheeks) about each 45 minutes, from slimy, smelly beginning, through scientifically sensible middle, until funny end.

Still, I was eating while I watched the beginning of this episode, and the whole shaft mess didn’t interrupt my meal. We can’t know what our true responses to extreme situations would be when compared to what we imagine they should be, but I have thought that if I’d ever followed a career in forensic medicine, I’d be the kind of person that can eat a quick meal while weighing a human brain.

Fun brain facts: It weighs about 3 pounds, and its constitution includes a large amount of water. If exposed to fire, it boils, creating intracraneal pressure as it expands. If the heat is intense enough, the cranial vault can crack, or explode. Much different from the brain boiling that occurs while staring at a collage, or reading a giantess story.

The whole office chair deal was slightly annoying, all the way until the end of the episode. Then it was hilarious.

New words learned: Hoistway! Lateral Epicondyle!

Details to tattoo on one’s forehead:

Special Agent Graham Kelton is dead.

Marihuana makes you stupid.

The part of Zach was played by Mr. Fisher, whose character was a caricature. I suppose that was intentional, since he’s to fleet by like so many other assistants. What he said nine minutes into the show made listening to him at any other time supportable. He spoke of the Lateral Epicondyle, and of a grad thesis he had written about the effects of falls in human bones.

That, of course, made me think of giantesses. See, this not only pops into my mind for one purpose alone. Thoughts on size differences come as stories from many perspectives, including scientific ones, the very ones I was making fun of a couple of days ago.

Say an evil giantess grabs you, and I hope that never happens to you, but say she does. After she toys with you for the prescribed amount of time, she flings you off her fingers like a dirty tissue. Three days later your splattered remains are found, and by examining the hairline fractures in parts of your bones, the height of your fall can be determined, and a warrant can be issued for the giantess’ arrest, as the estimated height of her flinging range matches the one evidenced by your poor broken bones.

The height of buildings around the area is not taken into account, as it would interfere with my scenario, and I’m sorry to say your murder will go unpunished, because who in their right mind wants to tell a giantess she’s under arrest? Probably the guy smoking pot, since it makes him stupid.

Another fun forensic fact: When your remains are found smeared all over a street or whatever, their dispersal can make it difficult to collect fluids for analyses, especially if no one finds you for days… but here it reads that vitreous humor can be used to determine time of death* for up to 72 hours. The cool detail for me was that the body in the shaft was last seen on Friday evening, and it is presumable that the first scene of the episode took place on Monday morning, so… less than 72 hours. I like!

That’s all she wrote.

*Assuming the giantess didn’t squish them as she crushed your body with the ball of her foot after it hit the ground, that is. :)

"g2911" by Burni. What I would like to know is, what is a crush image doing in my collection?

"g2911" by burni

Chiquitolina

The above is a short clip I found when I searched for Chiquitolina* at youtube. I think it’s cute, so I wanted to share it here. I know the characters are from Venezuela because of the unmistakable accent, and because of the way she says chiquitico, a word that’s an intensive form of “little”, and usually spelled chiquitito, but in Venezuela, sometimes the last “t” of diminutive forms switches to a “c”, and I think Luis Enrique also says ratico instead of ratito (diminutive of rato, which means “a while”). So charming.

So, here’s what they say. I took a few liberties so as not to translate it literally, which I can’t do without losing more linguistic flavor than I already have. By the way, Negra in Latin America is a term of endearment for people that have a tanned, darker tone of skin (although a neighbor of mine was also called Negra and she was white as paper… her sisters called her Gorda as well even though she was skinny), and in no way it’s an insult, or a racist remark. Not in this context, anyway.

* * *

La Negra is driving somewhere, and suddenly there’s a little voice calling out to her.

“Psst! Negra! Negra!” A shrunken Luis Enrique stands on the dashboard and whistles to grab her attention.

“Down here,” he hops in place a couple of times. “Negrita!”

“Luis Enrique, what are you doing there so small?” she asks him, surprised.

“Ah, you see? What do you think? I came to talk to you for a little bit.”

“Hold on. I’m gonna be late, because I can’t talk to you when you are that small.”

La Negra parks the car and asks Luis Enrique, “What did you do to get so small?”

For some reason [genius script], he repeats, “Ah, you see? What do you think?” and then adds, “I took Chapulín’s Chiquitolina pills, and I left him trapped inside a matchbox! Hahahah!”

“This is annoying, Luis Enrique! I really can’t stand you this way. Chao!” And la Negra slaps poor little Luis Enrique as though he’s a mosquito as he cries out. Now a cartoonish pile on the dashboard, he says, “I don’t like you.”

* * *

After a Chiquitolina dosage.

After taking a Chiquitolina dosage.

*Chapulín Colorado, a super hero that always got in amusing sorts of trouble, which he always detected beforehand with his vinyl antennae (a nod to Spider-man, I suppose).

In the photo he’s doing his courageous, ready-for-anything stance, while saying, “¡No contaban con mi astucia!” which means, “They weren’t counting with my cunning!” a phrase he was likely to repeat at least three times during each show.

If he looks to you anything like that Bee Man from The Simpsons, that’s because he’s the inspiration behind it. I guessed as much the first time I ever saw the bee guy, since they made him look quite a bit like Chespirito.

Among his crime-fighting weapons was his stash of shrinking pills, called Chiquitolina. As you can see in the picture, he became very small, and the effect lasted for a few minutes after taking a dosage.

I will always remember the scenes during which a female character would give him a very close look, or hold him in the palm of her hand. Heck, even the ones with male interaction worked for me. Back then I had no idea why I loved those parts of the show so much. Now I do.

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