I’ll type awesome words about it later, but in the meantime…
…Is not what I asked, when I started creating those Craigslist ads. The above is a composite image of five penis pics I received in an email as an answer to this fake ad.
C’mon. Craigslist is not where I go for that. And as Twitter said:
(Although I do like them small, but I’m not going to talk to you about that. That’s the sort of private conversation that belongs somewhere else, such as a smut blog.)
Also, doesn’t the composite image look like the eyes and nose of an alien face?
One of the reasons I love to look at the analytics on my blog, is that I get to see where my readers live. Places I’ve never visited, cities I’d love to see, colorful flags I never saw when I went to school, and we had to learn all the countries. My geography teacher was strict, but excellent. She made us draw the outline of countries from memory, and turn in elaborate maps as homework. I didn’t “have” to do anything, I loved to do it, and I excelled at it.
So, it’s not surprise to me that when I see your data, I study your flags, I learn the names of your cities, and I look at where you are, on a map. That has grown into telling myself stories about you. None of them real, but so what? Then, I thought I should blog about what I imagine. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize I should blog about you*. What a goofy giantess.
I’m not really sure about the format yet. All I know is that it’s a game to amuse myself, and it will include a little image with your flag, and your country (no repeaters?). If you see an image displayed, and you recognize yourself, and it makes you uncomfortable, please let me know. Try to include pictures, and Skype me a message stating your indignation. Try to use a sexy voice, preferably while shirtless.**
*Unless I know know you. I won’t violate your privacy.
**No, seriously. If it bothers you, I’ll delete it. I’m a gentle giantess, for goodness’s sake.
P.S. North Korea, I’m waiting for you.
* * *
Lucien woke up to the sound of their giggling again. It was a Saturday, he was hungover, and every loud splash and laughter made his head pound more painfully. He looked at the clock, its blue light too bright in his bedroom darkness. The sun wasn’t up yet! What sort of women go swimming in the river when it’s 38° F outside? What sort of women play with heavy currents as though they are in their own bathtub, passing boats and yatchs nothing but toys to allow by, or trap in their massive hands, if they wished? What sort of women were so inconsiderate as to wake up an entire island with their… their… their beauty, Lucien thought. Their gigantic, skinny-dipping, luscious, bountiful bodies, he continued; and hangover or not, his body began to respond.
Those giantesses! He turned on his back, and fixed his pillow under his stiff neck. Not the only stiff thing around here… He looked at himself, and over to his nightstand, where he kept a bottle of hypoallergenic, fragrance-free lotion. He was about to reach for it, when the laughter and thunderous water splashes quieted down.
“Enfin!” he said loudly, and winced at the dryness of his throat. That’s too bad, he admitted to himself, just as the first tremor travelled from the ground, to his bed. Old springs chirred, and he watched the blinds on the window shake. Again. Louder, and harder. Again, and this time Lucien jumped out of bed, not knowing whether to hide under it, or flee to his closet. Again, this time his TV jumped off the wall, and crashed to the floor, mount screw holes spitting plaster. Lucien whimpered. What the hell is going on?
The answer came in the form of a deafening crunch. It was his roof. It opened up like the top of a dollhouse; wood, roofing tiles, insulation flying everywhere like dry toast crumbs. Lucien dropped to the floor, and curled into himself as well as he could, knowing that nothing could protect him, but covering his face anyway. He stayed that way for a few seconds, until he heard the last bit of plaster drop. Then he heard their breathing. Stereo- no, quadraphonic- no, all surround-sound, tornadic, and pulling him off the floor ever so slightly.
He looked up, and saw them all at once. They were smiling, their heads together as they peered into his bedroom. One giggled, and then they all did, causing another wave of debris to fall from every side of the gaping hole that was now his roof. He opened his mouth, not knowing why. What could he say? What would happen now?
I’m not going to bring up politics at this time. Not here. This is my refuge from those things, which I constantly face, day in and out. This election in particular has torn my family apart. Some members of my family… let’s just say their crazy slip is showing. But never mind them. What about me? What the hell is wrong with me, that I feel the way I feel sometimes?
I go to Walmart, and I see certain people, and I feel certain ways. I want to do certain things, shout choice words, behave in a particular manner. That’s new. I wasn’t that way before. Whatever. I’ll work through it the same way I work through whatever illness, hormonal change, physical mutation, etc., manifests itself uninvited.
I have no mental process for the above, though. Just imagination. What is that visitor thinking? If they arrive here by accident, because they were searching for various “ways to flog your pet”, then what’s there to think? I can see they leave right away. But if they visit different pages, and stay on a few long enough to reveal they are reading the material… then what? How does that person marry their thoughts with their reality?
If they are female, then they have much more to worry about than having a certain cousin reveal on Facebook that she went to that rally. Thank you for the kick in the brain, perspective.
This happens about twenty minutes into the episode. Don’t read on if you don’t want spoilers.
This is so hot. I’m not embedding it because that would mean signing up and uploading this bit somewhere far more visible than this blog. So I uploaded it to my google drive. I love this part. You know what I was uselessly hoping, right?
I enjoy looking at my visitors’ data, namely countries and pages they visit. It still puzzles me to no end that one of the most visited pages has to do with my crushing a cricket. Sickos. 🙂
When I gawked at my most recent visitors’ world map, I saw the above image. It brought forth the image of someone struggling to stay afloat after having gone overboard, yet considerate enough to Visit the Undersquid while waiting for a rescue party.
Don’t you worry, little guy! I’m coming.
My Mac that I had named Vanya (I name my Macs), is dead. No more posts until he’s replaced.
(I wish this was an April’s Fools’ joke, but it’s not.)
…and it only took a few seconds. I was at one of my favorite blogs looking at fun stuff to use later on for various purposes that don’t only involve collaging, when I spotted a video of Andrew Cooper. You probably don’t know who he is and that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that near the end of the video I found out that the fun tune that had been playing during it was sung by a woman (Kelly Clarkson), and not a man. The creator of the video had used Audacity to change the pitch of her voice, and make her sound like a man.
I’d heard of such things before, but in the opposite context of men making themselves sound like women. This was the first time I’d heard an example of the results (that I know of), and I was surprised at how convincing it sounded. I’d downloaded Audacity years ago, so obviously I had to try this! I sound awesome as a man. I’d totally call me on the phone all the time, just to hear my voice… unfortunately my tweaked voice sounds just like one of my younger brother’s, which is a tremendous turnoff. 😆
No wonder some of you ask themselves if the people you deal with are truly who they say they are. If I had “dealings” with anyone online and it turned out he was a she, I’d not be insanely happy about the deceit. That sort of thing will never happen to me though. I’m fairly sure most of you have penises. 🙂
I now introduce to you Andrew Cooper, insanely hot man that should be collaged more often (which is why he’s my next Shrunken Man of the Week):
Is there any reason whatsoever I should be this happy someone from the city where I was born should make it to my blog? Maybe not, but it still makes my heart pound with glee that it happened.
See, what typically happens when I spot my birth flag in my site stats is that the visitor somehow ended up at my blog while apparently looking for something else, the evidence of that being that they never stay for longer than one “click” (as in, the first page they see is the page from which they flee).
But you can see that this person lingered for a while, and checked out several pages; s/he didn’t run, s/he didn’t cower in fear. I’m not the only one! Now I can honestly say there are at least two people from my country that have these fantasies. So, paisan@, I dedicate this song to you. 🙂
Today I was in the living room with my family, and a wish was expressed regarding a particular radio station, and the playing of it online. I sat at the computer and found it. I saw that I needed to fire it up through a player, and I chose iTunes. Awesome? No, not awesome.
What played was a 24-second ad about donating money, free Internet radio, blah blah blah… and then, the next item in my iTunes started playing automatically. Awesome? No, not awesome.
The next item in my playlist was a voice clip I created years ago. A voice clip in which I’m sexing a shrunken man, doing all manner of giant things to his little self. This clip was playing in front of my family. Awesome? Fuck no.
Was there anything awesome about any of that? Nothing, except the speed in which I stopped the clip, and the pathetically low volume in which it started playing. Another awesome thing was how in spite of how fast my heart was racing, and all the eighteen different kinds of stupid I called myself, and how terrified I was that I almost “blew my cover”, I was still turned on by my own voice and the hot things I barely heard myself starting to say. Awesome? Yes!
In conclusion, if you have any similar things in your computer, and significant people in your life you think know nothing about computers and would never find your stash of auto-eroticking giantess material that you keep in an idiotically obvious place, I suggest you do something about it tonight.
Or start wearing a diaper.
Update: They’re all gone, forever, all 112 voice clips (some really crappy ones, especially the first few). Deleted and unrecoverable. Well, I still copied them to my external drive when I backed up my hard drive last year, but I don’t suppose they can do much harm there.