At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, September 11, 2017


This day is strange. It is raining right now in San Francisco, and there is thunder and lightening. Yet the apartment still feels too warm, and I am presently wearing only zesty boxer shorts, you should see me.

Actually, you shouldn't. I am actually a fairly modest man, my exhibitionist tendencies are a private affair, and I'm afraid that only the stuffed animals have seen me thus these past few years.

They are usually properly horrified, and have expressed the opinion that human beings are on the whole rather repulsive, unlike their own fine fuzzy selves when naked.

Still. Thunder, lightening, rain.
Since before seven o'clock.
Intermittent squalls.

Our banana slug president blames the Chinese, Rush Limbaugh opines that it's a liberal plot, and Alex Jones is convinced it's an evil conspiracy to impose a global government by the Bilderbergers and lizard people.

I'll take 'the Chinese' for a thousand dollars, Mr. Trebek.

I heard one of those Chinese people go on and on today about little white nipples. He sounded halfway insane, even if you factored in that what he actually meant was the adapter that made a standard can of butane suitable for an old-style Dunhill lighter. The little white nipple.
Everybody else calls it the little white nipple too.
It's not just him.
But never mind that. Normal people do NOT spend over forty five minutes hectoring another person about little white nipples. Thanks to that fine exemplar of obsessed Chinese manly consumerhood, I still have the phrase "little white nipples" stuck in my head.
I myself, as a Caucasian male, have relatively small white nipples, though they used to be even bitsier. The only person who has seen them in several years is my apartment mate, presently in her room asleep with the window open. She has no interest in my little white nipples.
Unlike her queer fellow tribesman.

The nice little white nipples.

Of which there are two.

Rather pinkish.

Time for strawberry ice cream.


There is no strawberry ice cream! Nor any Rocky Road, or Cookie Dough! She ate all of it! What's left is a triple chocolate, which is delicious but a bit heavy. That Chinese woman must have had it for dinner, no wonder she's so exhausted. And on second thought, she does have a thing for some little white nipples, because her boyfriend is white, but I do not know how his little white nipples compare to my little white nipples. They are probably better. He is younger, more boyish, and immature.

I have never in my entire life talked about nipples for more than ten minutes.
White or otherwise.

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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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