At the behest of Beaches (a Nielstein commenter / category of sandy locale found at the border of green and blue portions of the Atlas), I will allow myself to answer a series of strange question, seemingly irrelevant to my personhood. All important information about myself, and other Trollpop, are the words of inane wisdom ingrained within this Blog; etched on the tablets of Beyond Fiber Optics And The Dingo Within; scratched in the bedpost of the Internets; tattooed upon the buttock of each and every post with loving grace.
So writeth the Doubting Tomato:
Let me begin by stating that I am extremely, nay, SOMEWHAT offended that Mr. Beaches has likened me to a necrophiliac. I am attracted to no drop-dead body, and rest assured, when my own body has dropped dead, none shall soil it! Thy sandy loins will never be allowed near my Jangling corpse!
Trop could be drop dead fuckable and is hiding behind a weird personality. UGH!! Or he could be drop dead weird and never been fucked
So Trop…. we are all curious
Do you live at home?
Lets pretend you are wooing us women…let us know the important stuff.
Offense swells equally within my other lung at the thought of myself being a "chatty cathy." Is speaking a sin? Have I in any way grieved thy bottle-strewn, hobo-infested shores, oh Beaches? I am not a Cathy, but a Man!
And thus, I answer the fourth question. Let me begin.
Age: Were I milk, I would have long ago curdled. :-)
Height: Roughly the distance from the twirlin-tips of my head to the tap-tap-tappin toes of my feet. Give or take a cubit.
Weight: I am heartily full of life, exuberance, lustful desire, and bacon. Seventeen thousand pounds, one would reckon. But very little of this is physical.
Sex: Not unlike the chains worn by soldiers, the box containing parcels, or a powerful Nordic whirlpool. One would assume my blatant attraction to Cap'n Daisy would reveal this attribute about my privatey parts.
Hair Color: Tis the shade of the gift, given by Jacob, upon his favored son.
Body Hair: More than enough for your sea-salty fingers to bask in deary ;-)
Bath: I believe made this quite clear in prior comments and as such can only give a knowing wink and smack my lips in disdain!
Virgin: That I have preservethd my blessed flower for Sarah and Daisy Nielson ought come as no surprise to you! >:-O
401K: While I do, sincerely, believe it will cause a vast error in computers, banks, etc., I am happy to announce that I shall not be alive in three-hundred-nine-and-ninety-thousand years, and as such, haven't the foggiest fear in my ole tattered head :-)
Do you live at home?: I am confounded and perplexed. Where on earth would one live, were it not his home? Nay, I am not like the many drifters who sleep on thy sands at night! How would I then access these tubes by which we speak?
Lets pretend you are wooing us women: Hungry creature as I am, I am always wooing us women! That you, yourself, are not wooed, calls only alarm to thy womanhood; not my own skill.
Tis always sad to dispel a mystery. Yet now my soul is laid bare as Smokey himself, and out I puff the fires of any sense of privacy. For you, Beaches, I now vulnerate myself, and cast into thy ferocious waves, my life rolled tightly in a small glass bottle. If the sharks of identity theft snap their jaws at me, so be it!
Or, as the Great Poet once said:
Les plages est une vache laide