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.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017


The three most popular essays here this week have been hamsaplo, flake tobacco, and covered in cheese. From which one might deduce that randy pipe-smoking dudes who smell of fromage are a dominant market force. Everyone loves them!

But that would be wrong.

I am (still) single.

Cheesy pipesmokers are a drug on the market. I cannot attest to the melted dairy odour, which probably isn't present anyway, but as a man who whiffs delicately of fine flue-cured leaf and occasionally something resinous from the Levant, my social life does not seem likely to yield a love interest.

No one has in recent years run up to me and shrieked "oh you profound and complex-smelling dude, please run your well-maintained little beard all over my velvety bosoms you hot stud!" Or anything that could even be remotely construed as meaning (or implying) that.

Actually, no one ever.

I am disappointed with the modern world.

NOTE: a distant fourth is something nasty, about the horrid funk of Hobbit wannabees.
Who all own Gandalf pipes.


NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:

All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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