Miniature: size does matter

Tiny liquids

WHENEVER I go on holiday I get a quiet thrill at the thought of going into the toiletries aisle in Boots to stock up on tiny bottles of products I already own in regular size which, if I had any sense, I could just decant into empty bottles and save myself about £20.My adoration knows no sense: I once paid about four quid for a copy of a well-known sex-rag masquerading as a women’s glossy just so I could get a tiny tube of Lancome mascara.

I’m always reminded on these bi-annual shopping trips of that scene in Scrubs where JD tells Turk he likes to collect miniature items because it makes him feel like a giant.

But I think the simple fact is that – at the risk of sounding sexist – girls in particular find small stuff is just, well, CUTER.

Tiny pup

Take today’s token quirky news story about baby Beyonce the Dachshund puppy who is so tiny she’s actually smaller than an iPhone.

One can only imagine how many hearts across the nation simultaneously broke watching the poor little pup squeak from the inside of a paper coffee cup.

Two weeks old and only three inches long from top to tip the petite pooch is possibly the media darling of the day with reporters everywhere scrambling to see who can come up with the cutest comparison – for me, “she was so small she could fit into a spoon” is a winner, but more so if it’s a teaspoon, which sadly was not specified.

Speaking of small things, I’ve recently discovered that not all babies are awful.

Tiny hand

In recent months I have been rather taken by an adorable six month old baby who at every occasion I can, I snaffle onto my lap.

I can’t say I’m a huge fan of infants, but LOOK HOW TINY HER HAND IS IN MY HAND.

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Trying to Draw Something, anything…

Can't draw / won't draw

I AM Tweeting about replacing sugar in my coffee with honey when my friend Claire erroneously replies: “You have to get Draw Something – it’s AMAZING!”

No-one in my family possesses a shred of artistic talent  – though I have been known to dabble in bunting – so the thought of going screen-to-screen in a doodle-off with my friend-with-an-art-degree was met with a wimpy “I can’t draw” and we went on with our days: me congratulating myself for switching to decaf beverages laced with bee juice, and Claire with her index finger glued to the screen of her iPhone waiting for someone to “draw something.”

The following week – around the time that Pinterest failed to raise more than a grunt out of me – I noticed a few friends LOLing and ROFLing in my Facebook mini-feed over what appeared to be a series of scribbles penned by toddlers.

Catherine says to Liz… “I apologise for that last drawing. Bag of shit.”

Meanwhile, Dan taps his cyber fingers impatiently at Rebecca: “UM it’s your turn,” he gripes, uploading an incriminating screen shot entitled, “Waiting, their move.”

In my sidebar there are five app requests from mates inviting me to show them just how horrific I am with a virtual paint brush.

I groan at the thought of yet another app clogging up my iPhone and close down Facebook. I should be writing about dead dogs anyway.

A week later, and in the process of attempting to remain abreast of media trends, I relented and Googled Pinterest (I still don’t see the attraction – I’ll let you know if I do), read about various social networking sites banning pro-anno and “thinspiration” pages and stumbled across an article telling me why Draw Something is better than Words With Friends.

As a frequent WWF winner (no, I do not moonlight as a wrestler or champion the plight of animals), I remained sceptical any app would tip my fave off the top spot – especially when the author sounded more like a social worker when they said Draw Something is better because it’s “co-operative, not competitive”.

I relent and download the free version to see what the fuss is about.

I blink at the screen blankly for a few seconds before fumbling my way into creating a game with Claire.

It tells me I can draw one of three things: mask, tail, lion king.

An image of Simba addressing the herd is probably beyond my meagre talents at this early stage so I settle for “mask”, tentatively jabbing the screen.

I submit what I consider to roughly pass for a masquerade ball mask and wait.

I stare at the screen for a second time and wonder what happens next.

The phone bleeps!

The app loads and asks if I want to watch Claire trying to guess my image. This is a much more high-tech operation in my head than in real life – I imagine it to be a video of my friend’s scrunched up face trying to fathom my piss-poor paint skills.

To my horror it’s actually a replay of me attempting to draw the mask, complete with action shots of me erasing several bits and attaching thin wonky lines to some chunkier wonky lines.

Incredibly she guesses correctly and I am invited to guess her picture. Clearly a connoisseur of the game already, she goes for an eight letter word.

I watch as she draws what I first believe to be a blue blancmange attached to a grey pole turn into a wholly recognisable depiction of “dandruff”.

Now in the swing of things, I take my next turn. I’m disappointed to find I only have access to the colours blue, red, yellow and black but I make do with my attempt at “kick” – a yellow leg with a red sock kicking a blue ball.

Perhaps if I become the latest Draw Something advocate I’ll trade in some coins for crayons and expand my paint palette.

Until then, if someone can tell me what the “bombs” are for I’d be grateful.