It’s not something I ever aspired to do.

Sure, I’ve been dealing with the public bathroom situation on a daily basis for years, bracing myself for the inevitable shriek. But so far, there’s never been a problem.

Other than that, I think I’m being realistic when I say no one has really been blindsided by who I really am.

And having said that, I remain impressed by how most women have been able to stay tolerant, or at the very least, keep their negative remarks to themselves, if there were any. It’s extremely gracious, considering there’s a greater likelihood of girls being critical of other girls. Also, I don’t really think girls want “us” in their club anyway.

So as a show of appreciation, I think it’s perfectly reasonable that a girl’s club remain a girl’s club. It’s a wonderful thing to get an operation to align your lifelong self-image with your outer image, but that’s a far cry from knowing what it’s like to be a woman since birth.

You won’t see me reciting The Vagina Monologues, ever. That’s like a Caucasian getting reverse-to-single eyelid surgery, dying her hair black, and suddenly reading the Joy Luck Club in a coffee house. Gender theorists argue that gender is a construct, but these days, with affordable surgery vacations overseas, gender has become a commodity that can be financed with a credit card. In fact, I can’t even hang with fellow gay male acquaintances when they caricature women. (Thank heavens I can use old age and being out-of-touch as an excuse!)

That’s not to say I don’t believe in equal rights for all women and feminist readings. If anything, transgender people are fighting so hard for their rights right now that they often don’t devote enough time to fighting for the rights of the sisters whose club they covet. That’s brought some resentment from the hard-lining women.

I’ve been saving this entry for many months. It’s probably safe to say I’m neither fish nor fowl. I neither hunt nor gather, though the thought of gathering hunters is a delight. I see aspects of cd, tv, tg,ts, shem, and drag (well, each and every one of us do drag in our daily routine) in my persona. And I’ll always openly support transgender people and biological women in attaining legal rights, legal protection, equality, respect, reform, and public safety.

I just shudder to think that less informed people will stumble on my website and take what I say – as an individual – as a representation of transgender people who actually make a difference, like say, Pauline Park, Kamikawa Aya, Sylvia Rivera, or Andrea James.

Besides, as Rhett once said in Gone With The Wind, “you don’t know what freedom is until you’ve lost your reputation.” My reputation is based on who I am first, not on being transgender (whatever that is). I believe being transgender should be incidental to anyone’s identity, much like say, liking Barbara Streisand was only a small part of who Glenn Gould was. Biological women will tell you how hard they have fought to be freed from being seen as “a female lawyer.” If being transgender is my only recognizable feature when people describe me….then I have a lot of work to do with my personality. (And my plate is already full when it comes to that!)

So, as a moratorium on the the ever-expanding, every-subcategorizing grey goo that is transgender culture, I’m temporarily removing my “transgender” icon on the upper right of this page. I’ve slid in its place “eccentric” as a vague passport to freedom. I’m all, and I’m none of the above. I’ve always put myself more in the mindframe of Quentin Crisp, Brini Maxwell, Wendy Carlos or even Dennis Rodman. Nothing too serious, even though I’ve been at it for longer than some of my readers have been alive – call me whatever you want to: If you have a problem with me, it’s none of my business.

A friend told me over the weekend that the cookie toss part of Hungry B*tches, or its viral internet nickname, Two Girls One Cup is the most disturbing aspect of the movie.

For those of you who know of the furor over Two Girls One Cup, you will agree that there are infinitely more disturbing things about the “trailer” to that movie. (I watched the entire movie….ok: I fast forwarded over most of it at 64X speed)

But here is the most disturbing thing: that same friend then goes on to tell me that of all the friends he knows, I am the most out there person when it comes to pastime activities between adults. If he thinks the cookie toss is the disturbing part about 2G1C, and he thinks I’m weirder in sack kink, what does that say about me?

I know I collect sex moves and sex positions like cooking recipes. Fortunately I go for what I consider quality and not quantity. So my job is quite easy, my notebook slim. I have heard stories from friends with partners who appeared to be more interested in how they could work their yoga positions into the evening so they can sleep late the next morning.

Just because you can do it, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s enjoyable. I dated a fellow once who could double as a toll gate for Humvees, but you don’t see him standing out there by the Holland Tunnel.

In researching actual terms for this blog entry, I came upon so many positions that seemed as if they were more a manifestation of boredom (with what…or worse, with whom) than a search for a new physical syntax.

I wanted to find the correct term for a variation of the rear entry, which involved the stomach being flat against the floor. Cosmo calls it the tight squeeze. Someone else called it the reverse missionary. Most called it a variation of the rear entry. It’s basically a flatten doggy style with belly crushed flat on the floor. It’s quite a flexible position. I say this because as a recipient, I can be completely unconscious during the act, and instead of the Sunday papers, I can get the report of what I missed like late-breaking news the next morning over breakfast.

There’s another move that is fairly new to the point that a name still hasn’t been assigned to it. It involves a doggy style but with one foot stepping on the partner’s head or face. I tried to find the term, but it brought up pages after pages of prudish men complaining about how moves like this depressed them about the human condition. If anything, missionary position should depress us all about the lack of human innovation.

The foot-to-face move is actually quite dangerous for the guy on top. I have seen Rocco Siffredi almost fall off. Alek James Hidell (Brandon Irons) may have had a Charlie Horse while doing it.

So if anyone knows the names to these positions, please let me know.

That way I can add it to my other favorites. You know: The Tony Danza, the Birmingham Booty Call, the ATM, the reverse Houdini, and of course, the household move by now, the Dirty Llama.

In celebrating the release of the second season of AMC TV’s Mad Men on DVD today, I chalked up my ten favorite TV wives.

My favorite TV series, set in the early 60s, chock full of still 50-ish outfits, chauvinistic men, and domesticated housewives. Plus English saddle horseriding. One can’t ask for more. When Don corners Bobbie at a restaurant and grabs her by the hair, then between her legs (under her skirt) telling her to he can “ruin her” if she doesn’t stop swindling his company for cash, I think television can’t possibly get sexier.

2. Margaret Anderson Father Knows Best

Wife of the ridiculous, loud patriarch in Father Knows Best, her posh East Coast Lockjaw accent and always supporting wife style is tops.

3. Bree Van De Kamp Desperate Housewives

Dutiful well-dressed Republican type wife (they all fit on the same thesaurus entry)…the recipe for a swanky marriage.

4. Cindy McCain 2008 Election

Thin, well-dressed, gracious, thin, humanitarian, heiress, says yes to her hero husband while she goes off and flies planes and race cars behind his back, Cindy McCain singlehandedly retired Wallis Simpson’s “you can never be too rich or too thin.” I think all wives aspire to these traits at some level even if they can only grudgingly confirm it after five martini’s. And Oh you soy-lubbin’ liberals are just jelis. Admit it: you can’t even think up a clever bumper sticker about Cindy to put on your VW’s caboose.

5. Donna Stone The Donna Reed Show

The most fashionable, chic mom in vintage TV era. She’s kind, compassionate, well-dressed, and can get all the stoves going all at once while keeping her hair free of fly-aways.

6. June Cleaver Leave It To Beaver

Almost as tall as Ward, she looks like she could pummel him with a rolling pin if he got too cheeky. June holds the record for being able to cook in an all-white outift, WITH a white bow blouse, and a pearl necklace, and somehow keeping the whole outfit spotless. I imagine the dishes were probably water consomme with foam packing peanuts, with a dash of salt of course.

7. Shelly Johnson Twin Peaks

Madchen Amick as the sexy wife of the abusive husband in Twin Peaks. A daring role that would prove to be a model for the next twenty years of LifeTime TV original programming.

Lois Griffin actually gets the official 1950s housewife salute for wearing lipstick throughout every situation in every episode of Family Guy. Sure, there are probably cartoon manipulations on the internet that portrays Peter Griffin’s wife in sexy poses. But the thing that makes Lois my favorite TV wife is the faint hints that are dropped about her sack kink. My favorite scene was when Peter accidentally shoots her close-range in the shoulder with a gun.

“Ow!!! Peter! You Shot Me!…….Now c’mon and stick your finger in the wound and twist it around, Ooo!”

You know you got a keeper when Peter hooks a car battery up to his nipples using large jumper cable clips and it still isn’t doing it for her.

9. Kelly Gaines Cheers

I don’t think I have ever watched a full episode of Cheers, but Woody’s cheery airhead galpal always fascinated me. I think it would be the height of fabulosity to go through life dumb as a box of rocks. ….you know…”hanging out with strange men in the subway, spending an afternoon spraying paint on the side of buildings.”

Just because I need to put someone from my favorite Canadian sitcom series, Trailer Park Boys. In an updated version of everyone’s lovable tv wife Lucy, this Lucy takes a job stripping when her hubby is in prison. They almost didn’t get back together after he was released, being that Lucy’s latent lesbian side surfaced. But because Ricky was such a fabulous pot farmer, she decided to take him back even though he was living out of his car.

Now if that’s not class, I don’t know what is.

Notice something amiss this year? As d332.com rolls around its 12th anniversary- which is near my birthday- in keeping with tradition, I’d usually snap a picture of myself in a school-girl type outfit. But unbeknownst even to this author, last year would be the last time I would repeat that shot.

I started noticing a trace of vanity in the act of shooting one too many self-portraits. Certainly, my goal was to record time and its erosions. I then thought maybe I could snap pictures (or have them snapped) of me out in public. But even the thought of posing at an intersection for a picture in front of a camera operated by someone else, seemed a trifle self-absorbed. My greatest discovery of 2009 is this: while average people don’t like their pictures taken and shared, sexy, beautiful people in sexy outfits charge money to have their pictures seen (pay only websites). I, along with other Trans* people, on the other hand, load thousands of free pictures of ourselves on Flickr.com.

We can’t even give it away for free.

And while we’re at it, when was the last time you saw a 65 yr old schoolgirl in a mini-skirt? I’ve heard of staying back a year or two, but fifty years is a long time to be stuck in secondary school.

So I thought, maybe the answer is to just be. The Japanese concept of Wabi-Sabi appeals greatly to this aging lady: impermanence, unpolished, transitory, imperfect, rustic, the cycle of disintegration and birth, autumnal content, acceptance… all things I would happily use to describe myself.

It’s better to stay ahead of the pack and realize that it’s time to throw in the towel and age gracefully. I may lose a big portion of my readers for doing so, but for the rest who hang tight, thank you for your patronage. It continues to be a pleasure!

After all, I take all my feminine advice from Clint Eastwood’s Harry Callahan, who said in Magnum Force:

“A Man’s Got To Know His Limitations.”

Friends always tell me that I need to import my 1100+ entries from my other blogs over here. I merely shrugged and answered, “why recycle when you can create something new?” So here goes:

Needless to say, many introductions falter at the point when my first name is uttered. I love the way it sounds more than what it stands for. But if it’s a point of contention, we can go there too.

First off, with the caricature transgender girls suffer from stand-up comics, we really owe it to ourselves to dispell the stereotype of being wh*res who can’t give it away for free. In many cases, this would include many married men who go to bars in dresses and doth protest too much “I’m not gay!” when their mouths are full.

Even though most of my close friends look like hellraisers, we motivate each other to be true, chaste, and devoted in our relationships. In one of my favorite lines of advice from one of my three best friends: “whenever you get the tingles and your partner is not around, take matters into your own hand, then decide whether it’s worth it or not to do what you’re thinking of doing.”

I guess that should be the beginning line of my story of how I became the all-time Olympian Iron-Man triathlete who dangerously courted carpal tunnel syndrome with near Guinness stats when it came to taking matters into one’s own hand.

To this day, my friends and I laugh scoffingly at the pill-popping folks who peaked in high school, and are presently wilting. We’re like that runaway train Jon Voight was standing on top off with the brakes yanked out. The only difference is that our railroad tracks have Teflon Axle grease and B’laster Penetrating Catalyst Oil on the steel rails.

And you know what? None of us cheat. We hang tight. Sure, I may name drop an occasional Bukkake or Donkey Punch reference here and there for laughs, but deep down inside, the traditional wifely devotion will always be the closest thing to my heart. (just ask the guys who’ve emailed me here. They’ll testify. btw: thanks, it’s terribly flattering, I know I only have a few good years left, but the answer is still no: I got a man.)

I always roll my eyeballs at prim people (without realizing people say that about me behind my back). But somedays, it actually feels quite nice and worthwhile to be chaste: I can look myself in the mirror and say, “somewhere out there in a room, there’s 150 naked guys standing around waiting to unload, and I’m ok being at home alone with Audrey Hepburn movies, my stuff animals, and a book.”

Look Guys! My First Online Quiz! Created by yours truly to celebrate a book I finally got my grubby hands on:

click on image above to take my Quizilla Test: Are You A Stepford Wife?

I was prompted to create my own quiz after I scoured the internet taking all the other wife tests. Below are the results of all the ones I took:

What Kind of Wife Are You? Quiz

Result:

You are a(n) Stepford Wife. If you look up perfection in the dictionary you are bound to see a picture of yourself there! You are absolutely flawless and make all the other wives look like trash. You are a super woman and get everything done without even a hair getting out of place. You are always in control and keeping appearances are the most important thing. You cook and clean and lavish your man with so much attention that the other husbands are jealous.

Are you a good wife? Quiz
Result:
“You are the perfect wife! You’d certainly keep your husband on his toes, but you’re not loaded with the kind of energy that’d make him regret marrying you. You should have a very happy marriage while with your man, whoever he is. I love you, cherry of my pie!”

Which Desperate wife are you? Quiz
Result:
“Bree: You are the best of the best . You are the only human being that is even close to being defined as perfect. Your conservative and a hard ass . You are my favorite.”

Which wife of Henry the Eighth are you? Quiz
Result:
“Katherine of Aragon: You are Katherine of Aragon, first wife of Henry. You are devout and scholoraly. You hide your emotions well, which is a good and bad thing. You have strong beliefs and stick to them. You would sooner die peniless and lonely than loose your dignity. ”

Which Army Wife Are you? Quiz
Result:
“You are Claudia Joy. You are very involved in the military community and you love helping others. It’s hard for you to let others help you out. You have your head on straight and are very intelligent. You will do anything for your husband’s career.”

How Good A Wife Are You? Quiz
Result:
You are :100% Good Wife

Would You Have Been a Good Wife in the 1930s? Quiz
Result:
“You Would Make a Great 1930′s Wife: You’ve got a few retro ways, and you would make the ideal 1930′s wife. At least, that’s how it looks on paper. You may just be an easygoing, pleasant person.
With a personality like yours, you’d be a great wife in any era! ”

I have stopped paying attention to Bond movies long ago, though when they play the reruns on tv these days, I still sneak a peak. My list of favorite Bond girls is quirky at best. I pay more attention to the peripheral people than the person I am suppose to be looking at. Of course, folks always automatically assume I would pick Caroline Cossey (nee Tula), the transsexual walking poolside for .005 seconds in For Your Eyes Only. No. You have to do more than that to make it on my list.

1.Tania Mallet (Goldfinger 1964: Tilly Masterson)
The prim, solemn, well-dressed sister of the girl who got gold-leafed at the beginning of Goldfinger, bent on vengeance, she was the one that got away, taken down by Job’s flying hat before Bond could help himself. My favorite Bond girl.

2. Alison Doody (A View To A Kill 1985: Jenny Flex)

The perpetual equestrienne, whether it be showing Bond his bedroom, going to a car-wash, or simply wielding a gun, Jenny turns out fabulously in the nattiest horse-riding outfit to grace the screen.

3. Carole Bouquet (For You Eyes Only 1981: Melina Havelock)

The prettiest Bond girl ever, in my opinion. Carole Bouquet rarely bore a sexy outfit in this Bond flick. I think any gratuitous view of her was blocked by a gigantic crossbow. But I adore Carole Bouquet. Her handsome allure is dazzling in Bunuel’s That Obscure Object of Desire.

4. Mie Hama (You Only Live Twice 1967: Kissy Suzuki)

Mie Hama’s 3rd Japanese girl up the stairs is the most magical Bond moment. For the uninitiated, Bond has to go undercover in a Japanese island as a 6’4″ Asian and he has to pick a Japanese wife to help his undercover operation. His people pick 3 local girls for him to chose from. The first two are stinkers that could make paper bags howl. As the third one approaches, Bond grimaces, bracing himself for the worst. And of course, Mie looks up in a combination of modesty and stateliness. If there is one look that sums up the ideal wife according to Pristine, it is this.

5. Barbara Bach (The Spy Who Loved Me 1977: Major Anya Amasova)

My first Bond love in my first Bond movie as a youth. Barbara’s beauty is like a kaleidoscope: from one angle she looks French, from another, Hispanic, then suddenly Teutonic. And where did this wonder come from? Queens, NYC. The Spy Who Loved Me had it all. The coolest cars, the most exotic locations, the discotheque version of the Bond theme, Jaws, and the hottest villain.

6. Caroline Munro (The Spy Who Loved Me 1977: Naomi)

Caroline Munro as the tough sexy sadistic evil villainess in The Spy Who Loved Me had too short an appearance before she was offed. Who in the world would wake up in the morning to go kill secret agents and decide to put on the reddest lipstick, the thickest eyebrows, and the skimpiest outfit?

7. Daniela Bianchi (From Russia With Love 1963: Tatiana Romanova)

Tatiana marries Bond and the two play a cute stretch as husband and wife. Well, until Bond manhandles his wife and gives her a walloping in the train cabin. To which she can only counter with, “all I know is I love you!” Classic old school romance. Can’t beat it. And of course, how can anyone not love that black choker?

8. Izabella Scorupco (Goldeneye: Natalya Fyodorovna Simonova)

Mousy science nerd narrowly escapes the monstrous Famke Janssen, who gets a little bit too excited when blowing away a roomful of innocent scientists with her machine gun. If my memory serves me correctly, Fyodorovna spends most of Goldeneye in a fuzzy cardigan sweater, clinging to Bond for protection from the meanies. I identify.

9. Michelle Yeoh (Tomorrow Never Dies 1997: Wai Lin)

Ok, I haven’t seen this one. But Michelle was born literally next town over from where I was born. She’s my peeps.

10. Lois Maxwell (Miss Moneypenny)

Well who wouldn’t want to be an executive administrative assistant perpetually in a manwich, with your male boss behind you and the icon of manhood, James Bond in front of you? Answering to two men while typing dictation and imparting witty repartee. Is a girl’s work ever done?

I am implementing a FAQ for this site. Based on questions I have been asked in the past, I selected ten most frequent questions.

10. Aren’t you promoting discrimination against women by lauding chauvinistic, take-charge men?

Although I am greatly appreciative whenever feminists include transwomen in their call for equality, I think it’s safe to say that no one will look at what I do or say, and subsequently rethink their perspectives on the equal treatment of women. No one could possibly read d332.com and walk away saying, “she speaks for all women” or “she speaks for all transwomen” for that matter. At the same time I am not one of those flaky individuals who claim I am being ironic and my statements and behaviors are clever, sarcastic commentaries on the antiquated patriarchal society. I would be positively horrified to see genetic women get run over by men if that was not something they desired, which is most of the time. At the same time, we have to remember there are women out there who feel comfortable being bossed around by men, letting the man take charge. They just don’t attain the same visibility as feminists. The concept of choice is based on your freedom to chose, it is not about being bullied into having the same ideals as everyone else.

9. Do you like role-playing?

I have an intense dislike of role-playing. A perfect summation of all the things I find wrong with role-playing can be seen in 2008′s movie CHOKE, when Heather Burns as Gwen- the internet date- rattles off an endless set of rules to Victor for their s/m play-r@pe role-playing. If you are a nice, kind-hearted fellow, then I’d be delighted if you remained one. If you are a possessive, ruthless, alpha-male, SOB who likes 24-7 HOH (head of household) micro-managing of his girlfriend, that okay with me too. Just don’t try to be something you are not. It reeks of phoniness.

I am NOT into the S/M scene. I read the writings of the Marquis de Sade when I was young. I was electrified by the daring of Pasolini’s Salo, and have a greater appreciation of it now that I am acquainted with the writings of Pierre Klossowski and the menu of Mickey-D’s. But the salutation of “master” or “mistress,” all those whips, ball-gags, latex, ropes and chains tell me one thing: if you need all these superficial tools to assist you, you really don’t have true power over (or trust with) that person.

8. Do you date transwomen, transgirls, or genetic girls?

No. I dated only men when I was dating. (I am currently in a full time relationship with a man). I started dating men in my early twenties. I have no desire to date women or transwomen. I have even less than no desire to date men who like to dress, or men who like to try on women’s clothing. I have nothing against it. It just doesn’t do anything for me.

7. Are you post-op?

No. I don’t plan to do anything with the main plumbing. I think a woman’s anatomy is a gorgeous work of art. I also think that a man’s anatomy is equally beautiful. To modify that part of me, in my opinion, would be like taking a knife to one of Gorgia O’Keefe’s paintings. It would be like dumping a can of Pollock’s paint onto a Vermeer.

6. Are you on hormones?

No. I have heard that hormones disturb one’s sex drive. It may or may not impede mine, but I am not willing to take that chance. One’s sex drive is the lifeforce that frees one’s creative imagination. I have no issues with my organ. I play piano.

5. What are you into?

Stepford Wife, which should never be confused with the docile, love-you-long-time, mail-order brides. The former is out of choice, the latter is necessitated by the desire to obtain a U.S. citizenship, which, when achieved, is usually followed by a summary discarding of the husband. I have been in the U.S. since a child. If anything, moving out of the United States would be a grand idea.

4. Do you pass?

Probably not. The giveaway is my height. I am a few millimeters shy of 6 feet tall without heels. If people chose to look closer, they will probably see something. If they just go about their business, they probably won’t. Having said that, there’s been this observation that many supermodels tend to have androgen insensitivity, which means a Y-chromosome alongside a mutated X. That’s why they are so tall, and sometimes slightly masculine looking. Whenever I think about the plight of my height, I console myself by remembering the time I saw Kamila Szczawinska walk down 8th ave. in NYC. She towered above every man on the sidewalk, and she actually looked prettier in real life than all the super-retouched Vogue magazine ads I’ve seen her in.

3. What type of men do you like?

In the Jean-Paul Satre play Dirty Hands, Hoederer says, “I, I love them (men) for what they are. With all their filth and all their vices. I love their voices and their warm grasping hands, and their skin, the nudest skin of all, and their uneasy glances, and the desperate struggle each has to pursue against anguish and against death.” As long as they wear men’s clothes, I always manage to find quite a few interesting things about all the men I come across. I have mentioned how chauvinistic men, as a soon-to-be-extinct anachronism, fascinates me greatly.

2. Why do you like pink so much, is it because it’s girly?

Actually my love of pink originated from my love of a beverage in my childhood. It’s an ice-cold, milky, sweet, drink filled with the scent of Pandan leaves. It is called Rosewater Ice Milk. Sure, pink is girly, and that’s a fun perk. Hello Kitty is also pink. My electric guitar is also pink. But I wouldn’t love something just because it was girly. If I did, I wouldn’t have such a dreadful time telling an episode of the Hills from Gossip Girl, or Beyonce’s songs from Hannah Montana’s. At this point, I can’t even tell the difference between American Idol and Billy Idol.

1. What outfit epitomizes your look best?

For an accessory: the ribbon. For an outfit, the matronly schoolmarm librarian outfit. For anything below, there can only be one: the garter belt with stockings.

Some boys want to grow up to be.
Cowboys, firemen, president.
Not necessarily in that order.
Some girls now fancy themselves
supermodels, or people TMZ should stalk.
An adult film star or pop goddess,
the demarcation is getting
less clear each day, and sadly
so is the wait.

Once upon a time girls were given
dolls and play ovens, training
them to aspire to be
someone’s perfect little wife
some divine domestic goddess.
Now another lawyer or a doctor is chic.
It’s the principle not the money
parents insist.

We’ll do what we do best when we do what we love.

In my youth I loved a skirt suit
over a bow blouse maybe a ribbon.
I also loved serving men
bringing them food and refreshment
attending to men’s comfort
sate their needs,
all while wearing a suit and a smile.

What in the world can a grown up do,
wearing an outfit meant for the office,
remaining impossibly trim,
in makeup to please a man’s gaze,
greeting men with a smile when they arrive
bidding them a fond farewell when they depart,
almost yearning for their return,
even after they mistreat you
boss you around and humiliate you
in their chauvinistic way?

Eureka! An Air Stewardess!
An airborne Stepford Wife!
The only dream job I had in my youth.

We’ll do what we do best when we do what we love.

Media deconstructionists and feministing semioticians will look at these Kiwi shoe polish ads and tell you there is something inherently servile about a scantily clad woman polishing her man’s very large shoe.

I mean, what’s a girl like me to do? Go through my daily chores and clean my guy’s filthy shoes while wearing lingerie, heels, and makeup?

Uh…yeah!

Though I think learning to read ads by slavishly following media theory may, in some ways, be no different than slavishly following ads and being led to slaughter consume.

So I freely chose to read ads using my own rules.

From the two images above, I conclude the advertising agency was trying to perform a public service and inform me of the following: Men with big feet get all the hot chicks.