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.
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