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You Just Can't Insult A Tall Guy!

Updated on January 31, 2020
Dan W Miller profile image

"The Vanilla Godzilla" was raised in Ventura County, California. He is a USN veteran, divorced with grandkids, living in Phoenix since 2000.

Being tall, people want to know you or hate you

I don't know how many times I've had "Napoleon Complex" guys walk up to me just to hurl an insult.

These comments are met by me with lines like, "That's O.K., Shorty. You're not my type anyway." or "Too tall for what? Japan? A Cooper Mini?" or "Well, that's not what your mother said last night, buddy." Those poor guys. So obvious they just want to be like me.

What does one say when one is born (well, grew) into this body?

That, "You're too tall" line is usually met with, "Yeah, I know. and chicks dig it, too!" or "OH. MY. GOD! I am? I never knew!" or "I was just saying that to myself when I looked in the mirror this morning. I said, Ya know what, Dan? You are one tall SOB."

"You're too tall." Huh? I get that brilliant observation a lot more often than you'd think. Oh, thank you for pointing out to me that I am a freak of society and/or you are jealous and lack tact. My life is not and never has been average.

My first joke I said on stage was in a stand-up routine a guy walked up to me and said, "You're too tall." So I told him, "Well, you're too black." HELLO?! We were born this way!

Another cruel line I like to flip on guys that are obviously trying to satisfy some form of jealousy, trying to impress their date (weird, huh?) and hatin' me for being tall is, "You know what, pal? There is one line that you nor I NEVER hear from a sexy woman and that is, "Oooh, I've always wanted to make love to a SHORT guy!" Usually I can count the beats for shorty's brain to kick in on that one. (One, two, three,) "Hey!" They yell at me. But I'm already gone.

My "audience" within earshot is laughing with me and at him. Without waiting for a comeback, I just keep walking, never to look back hoping he won't punch me in the back of my leg.

I always hear a hoot or a guffaw from someone nearby and rarely has the jerk ever wanted me to turn around just to insult them again.

Head's up. Tall guy in the room! The author with comedienne Jann Karam (Seinfeld) outside of The Tempe Improv . She's about 5'1". The Vanilla Godzilla is about 6'5 1/2"
Head's up. Tall guy in the room! The author with comedienne Jann Karam (Seinfeld) outside of The Tempe Improv . She's about 5'1". The Vanilla Godzilla is about 6'5 1/2" | Source
These are actually grown men I'm umpiring. Naw! But it sure helps when you're in a position of authority.
These are actually grown men I'm umpiring. Naw! But it sure helps when you're in a position of authority. | Source

I'm different. I know it and I LIKE IT!

Being a freak does have it's advantages when there's a woman that has a tall guy fetish. Not too many women want George Costanza.

Believe me. When I jump into that passenger's front seat in every car, I instantly grab the handle under the seat to move it back. Yet every time the driver gets in they'll "inform" me that the seat does go back further. I have to demonstrate that I'm way ahead of their thinking.

Another dumb question is from people that must be taking a survey or writing a book on me. "How tall are you?" My usual response is "REAL tall" and just go about what I was doing. Or maybe, "78 inches." That always gets the math challenged ones.

If I'm just not in the mood, I might say, "Why do you have to know?" Can I just go about my day, stranger without being reminded I'm not average like you? How much do you weigh? Oh, wait. Why are you walking away mad?

It seems the elderly are fascinated with my height. I guess the world keeps making them bigger as compared to "in their day." I like to be their hero and get items off the top shelf for them in the supermarket. I'm also a person of interest to small kids. Coincidentally, the elderly and small children have many like tendencies.

When tall people lose their cool, it obviously shows.
When tall people lose their cool, it obviously shows.

A comeback or two to that snarky remark

But seriously folks, unless you are sick-minded and your intention is to remind the tall guy that, he is in fact, tall and not like the rest of you poor schlubs, please stop. I KNOW I'm tall. Big whoop.

When someone inconsiderately points it out to me for the umpteenth time that day, I try to make them appear ignorant. Because it IS an ignorant and totally unoriginal thing to say to me. Do you REALLY want to know? If you're trying to make me feel bad, it doesn't work on me and nearly everytime the guy saying it is jealous (and everyone knows it, fool.)

Besides, being a former comedy show host, I will scorch your 32 inch length britches so bad with my comeback, that you'll be psychologically scarred for life.

Oh please let there be a crowd around us so you can hear them laughing at you... and people to hold you back when you want to punch my lights out. The last recourse from the loser of a debate - pugilism. I'm just too old for that crap.

I might act shocked or alarmed that , "Really? I didn't know that!" Or something rude like their sister really likes it too. Or I'll ask their waistline measurement or maybe point out that they AREN'T tall.

The only real problem I have is the waste of my time with information I am fully aware of. Quite frankly, I'm tired of talking about it because it's not such a big deal to me when you have to "live with it" everyday. And living with it is a lot better than being a mole.

I like being tall. It gives me confidence that most men wish they had and I am downright cocky and you know why? BECAUSE I'M TALL!

That's right. I'm bigger, more body weight and I get picked out of crowds by adventuresome charming women who have "a thing" for a very tall Nordic body wrapped around them tonight. What was your name again, shorty? They remember mine.

I enjoy being the above average person in the room. As long as I don't look like a klutz and bump my head.

It's a proven scientific fact. The really short ones seem to go for us tall guys. WHY?

Here's A Tall Story I Like


I get on the elevator. "Could you push 44 please? Thanks. My fingers are too big." (side glances... smiles... stares... I roll my eyes, quietly sigh.) {mumble} "awjeez. Here it comes.” This gets SOOO old.

Always complete strangers. Old farts and little kids. Always so DAMN fascinated. Of course, there were those couple of times when the women get creative.

"So, how long have you been tall?" That was a good one. (I’m ignoring everyone.)

*ding* doors open. Average looking middle aged woman about 4' 10" gets on. Eyes bug out as she purposely tries to get nearest to me.

Finally the octogenarian on board gets up enough gumption to say to me, "My son-in-law is 6' 3" “ (big whoop.) How tall ARE you?" Like I'm so damn amazing. Oy. What do I feel like saying THIS time?

"I am REAL darn tall, ma'am." and leave it at that. She looks miffed. "Well, just ASKIN'!" she bitches at me.

"Oh, well ma'am you’re just the fourth complete stranger this week to ask me. STILL haven't seen the book these people are writing on me." (Passengers looking straight ahead giggle.) OH, do I have to fart.

But EVERYTHING I do is so overblown, overemphasized, overreacted to, because it's always on a large scale and I can't go ANYWHERE without being noticed.

"Well, ya don't have to yell at me!" the Ol' Biddy says. "ugh. WHEN did I do that, ma'am?" I say in almost pain like I've had a spear stuck in my side from a Roman sentry.

*ding* "ALL I’M ASKING IS.... " she's cut off.

"C'mon ma. Here's our floor." As they walk out her middle aged daughter winks at me and I could hear her fading away,

"Ma, he's probably sick and tired of people constantly bothering him with the same rude question... " Biddy says loudly, "Well, I JUST wanted to know how tall he was..." Daughter raises her voice twice as loud as hers, "WHY? WHY IS IT SO DAMN IMPORTANT TO KNOW, huh?"

*ding* (door closes, elevator humms...) "Shorty's" got cow eyes gazin' up at me. Some ladies would picture us together in their mind's eye going, "awwwwww... " and me pretending I am not a circus attraction trying to put my arm AROUND her and instead placing it ON her opposite shoulder.

Now that I have your attention... 0h, wait. I ALWAYS do!

About 14 inches taller than this Angel

The Elevator Is Where I'm Their Captive And They Are My Audience

A Short Story Within The Story


A very hot, smart looking woman with tortoise shell glasses and a knit one piece mid-length skirt-outfit in deep royal blue gets on and I'm borin' lazer beam holes right through the back of her head.

Of course, she can't help but notice me because, as always, I'm head and shoulders above... ok, I'll say it... the competition.

She turns, looks, faintly smiles. Elevator car rocks into motion upward. My stomach almost feels like a feather is inside it tickling me. I have to adjust my slacks. McHottie gives me a slight side glance with that, "I'm getting off at my floor now" telepathic radio waves sent to me.

"Shorty" is getting visibly irritated and hateful of "McHottie." Her head swivels left, then right and back again looking at her. then me and back to her comprtition. But I'm doing my best to completely ignore her and her 1980s sickening sweet smelling Charly perfume.

*ding* McHottie gives her tail a little momentum and puts it in gear walking off the elevator.

I suddenly decide to get off on this floor, and tell the kid to hold the door. He springs into action and stops the doors from closing by pushing a button.

"But this is the thirty third floor. You said you wanted the forty fourth..." some butinsky who's so damn concerned for the tall guy's life because her's sucks informs me like I'm breaking a law or something. "Yeah I can’t count. I need to walk the stairs more often so I don't get fat. Thanks."

I quietly sprint up to Ms. McH's side as I hear the elevator car door close again and humm away. I think I saw a rye smile on the face of the floor button pushing kid when I zipped past him, clearing a path for me.

N ow what creatively goofy thing should I say to her to distinguish myself from all those other schlameels as her red spike heels click, click, click on the expensive white Italian marble floor.

She knows I'm comin' up alongside her. I catch up, stare momentarily at her milky white facial features outlined in matching red lipstick (not garishly red) and she looks up inviting me into her deep mahogany espresso flavoured eyes less than a full foot away from my steel blue gaze. So about 5' 4"ish, I figure. (Remember, she has heels on.) And WHAT a figure! (She looks a bit European. If she had looked more Americanized I would have thought coffee eyes instead.)

"So... this is quite an impressive business you run here. Did you inherit it from Daddy or did you have to claw and scratch and gouge the eyes out of your competition to get to the top?" I inquire.

All the time knowing it's neither and all the time she knows I don't think that either and all the time said with a sly smile, my dark eyebrows arched and slightly raised

She titters a little girl’s giggle. Oh, good because I’ll be making her laugh a lot and so many women are unaware how much of a deal breaker a horrid laugh that sounds like a non-filter smoking dock worker guffaw can be embarrassing in public and irritating in private.

"I just work here," as she notices my elbow extended silently offering her to hold onto it... touching me... sending a low charged electrical current through me. She has class oozing from her pores and ever so slightly places her right hand in the crook of my elbow while holding her light tan leather portfolio in the other.

We both smile for a count of five through pursed lips and eyelids at half mast gazing at each other. click, click, click, click, click, click, click... .

"So tell me," she softly inquires, "how tall are you?"

Written by Dan W. Miller a.k.a. The Vanilla Godzilla

Would you rather be tall or good looking but real short?

See results

© 2012 Dan W Miller


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