Pajiba

Needs more giant robots.

Victoria Secret wants to know what my fantasy is?

Okay. Buckle in.

My fantasy is to line up your girls from tallest to shortest and darkest to lightest. They should all be wearing maid uniforms. Some, I want holding small trays of sushi. One should be holding a bottle of 27yr Balvenie scotch, which she will pour into a heavy rocks glass that another girl is holding as I pass by to examine the line. Some should be holding feather dusters, and should behave as if I've just gotten home from a trip overseas and their work isn't done yet. If one could actually be a little dirty, that would be great.

I will behave as if I am displeased with all of them. I'll throw a fit and chase all but one out of the room (after taking one random piece of sushi, and a gluttonous sip of my drink). The one who stays will be berated for her lack of discipline before she too is chased from the room, preferably crying because she is ashamed that she's disappointed me so. I'll want a blond for this.

They should all have preassigned duties around the house. One should be dusting the paintings on the wall. One needs to be doing laundry. One should be looking for something that has fallen on the floor as she crawls around on her hands and knees. None of these duties should actually be strenuous (I don't really want them working up a sweat yet), but should always require them to "accidentally" reveal what is under their skirts. The one that will dust the photos should be on a short step ladder. The one folding laundry should bend over every few moments to take something out of the dryer before she folds it. Things like this.

Under their skirts I want to see a variety of underwears. Obviously classic white is always good, but maybe seeing the Superman insignia on someone's ass wouldn't hurt. One girl shouldn't be wearing any underwear at all; she's the dirty one. I don't car what her name is, but I'm going to call her "Stamos" (no, I will not tell you why).

As I randomly move through the house, I may find that I am struck with the mood to ravage them. They should always resist at first, but more because they don't want to seem whorish, and not because they don't actually want me. Like Pussy Galore in that scene from Goldfinger, where she says "no no no" right up until it's yes. Bond just pushes her down and takes her. Like that.

Later, once I am tuckered out, I will retire to my room where they should come to me in various states of undress and/or in lingerie, at which time they should gently rub my body up and down. Perhaps with the same feather dusters from before. I want to fall asleep on a pile of beautiful naked women.

So. Yeah. There it is.

What now, Bay? Make it happen.

I find the use of the phrase "tuckered out" oddly disconcerting. Otherwise, you can have your fantasy; I'll be in the stable with the Abercrombie boys.

Superasente's post is disturbing.

Single malts that nice really should not be poured over ice.

@Not a hair splitter: No whiskey should be poured over ice.

And no, Bourbon is not whiskey.

Also, that must be a Bay clip. There are 6 robots in it.

"if you want to ride... ride the white horse"

...who is cooling herself in front of the open freezer...

Thanks, superasente, for clarifying. All's fine now!

I defer to others as I'm more of a lurker than a Pajiba intimate. That said, I'd suggest something less ambitious. To go from silence to coming back with multimedia may be a lot to ask. Perhaps the overlords here can do a post soliciting reasons readers want/need Adventureman back with a little bit of sweet begging. The only thing I'd recommend is that no one try to replicate Adventureman's logic. Or syntax.

I want to fall asleep on a pile of beautiful naked women...

who is cooling herself in the open freezer after a long, hot day of ironing...

OH MY GOD, ALL THESE WOMEN ARE GOING TO END UP DEAD, AREN'T THEY?

I can actually smell scotch right now. I'm either really into supersante's story or someone in this office is bogarting.

I had an epileptic fit watching that. At least I think that's what it was....

Taking a slightly different tack:

My fantasy is all six women in the commercial suddenly realizing, more or less at the same time, that they're dressed in Victoria's Secret "lingerie," look down at their bodies with loathing, mutter "Fuck this cheap-ass shit," and stalk off to go shopping at La Perla or some other truly upscale underwear emporium.

But that's just me.

Is it just me, or is this an 'omage, nay a shot for quip remake of the Old Spice Commercial, The Man Your Man Could Smell Like?

Look up, look down, look at my hand ... I'm on a horse!

When I think of Victoria's Secret, I do not think of a concert that gives people epileptic seizures. Perhaps Bay is helping them rebrand themselves?

Now I really want a pair of those Superman underwear, but with the Batman logo.