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PlaqueTooth

35 M Washington, DC

My Details

Last Online
Today – 4:49am
Orientation
Straight
Ethnicity
White, Other
Height
5′ 9″ (1.75m)
Body Type
Average
Diet
Smokes
No
Drinks
Desperately
Drugs
Never
Religion
Agnosticism, and laughing about it
Sign
Education
Graduated from university
Job
Technology
Income
Relationship Status
Single
Relationship Type
Offspring
Doesn’t have kids
Pets
Has dogs and has cats
Speaks
English (Fluently), French (Poorly), Albanian (Poorly), C++ (Fluently), LISP (Okay)

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My self-summary
I was born in Antarctica, the firstborn spawn of a leprechaun and a shoggoth. They mutually willed one another out of existence, and left me to wander the blinding expanse alone.

It was there that a wandering monk found me some years later, fully grown and stunted. I spoke no language and wore only a thin layer of ice for clothing. The monk attempted nurse me to health by making me drink from leathery, mouldering teats that it was carrying around. The milk was foul: it smelled like ammonia and had the texture of half-melted licorice.

Being sixteen and never having eaten previously, I assumed that this was what all food tasted like. Disgust for your species took root in the tangled web of gas-bladders that form my heart, even though I now know that not all of your food is so sour and corrosive.

Consider your next actions carefully, humankind. I am watching.
What I’m doing with my life
Refusing to recognize and accept order in the universe.

This is a far more important occupation than actually doing my job as a computer programmer or working on relaxation. As a result, I tend to write short stories when I should be working.

If you tell my boss about that, I'm calling your mother to tell her about that thing you did with her, umm--you know.
I’m really good at
...whatever you're doing. Actually, I'm probably better at it.

Why don't you let me take over? I'm getting impatient.

Just--just stop looking over my shoulder. I'm not going to let you judge me.

Look, just stand over there. Out of the way. I can insult your competence from anywhere, baby. Just make sure your eyes are on me. When I turn to give you a cheesy wink, I expect you to be paying attention. I also expect you to just melt.

Yeah. I'm really good at managing expectations.
The first things people usually notice about me
My eyepatch, usually.

Sometimes, they notice my sheer, silken harem pants.

Either way, they be askin about me booty, the dirty scallywags.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
(a) books: From unearthly horrors to absurd satires, I think the one thing that most of the books I've enjoyed have in common is that they tend to take aspects of humanity and place them in a different context.

(b) movies: I don't see enough of these, though I should note that I am well equipped to enjoy the most terrible movies ever made.

(b.5) tv shows: Not having regular access to TV for six years and being wholly disinterested in sports has made me an ace at turning 99% of all small talk into brainstorming sessions and insult competitions.

(c) music: All time favorites: Tom Waits, Servotron. If the lyrics are -- thoughtful without being overwrought; playful without being obsessed with its own cleverness; and/or melancholy without sounding hopeless -- I'll tend to be drawn to it.

(d) foods: tripe, sweetbreads, cheeseburgers, msg, lard, carp, chalk.
The six things I could never do without
First, I'd like to note that one thing that I would prefer to do without is lists. Especially lists of things. There's only one way that binding an arbitrary group of items together is going to motivate me, and that is if it brings forth --

2. Anger -- not your misdirected, angsty-for-the-sake-of-being-angsty sort of anger. More the, "hyperbole AND ad hominem? GRRRRAAAAGH! I SMASH YOUR TV AS WELL!" or "Garrison Keillor is still a pretentious bag of d---? GIVE ME MORE TERRY GROSS, RADIO!" So, basically, I'm talking that kind of anger that is so superficial that you can't help but be aware that it's superficial.

If you don't get how that could work out to be a motivator, err, hey, we've all got --

3. Problems -- I like 'em. Especially the kind that take just enough critical thought that solving them is a joy. Sometimes I like the sort of problems that require the kind of rapid perspective shifting that makes inflexible tightasses dizzy. Right now, I'm trying to work on my problem with shouting purely for effect. As you can tell from the above, it's not going too well.

I'm also looking into the problem of reversing the decay of animal matter, because of ...

4. My cuddly stuffed rat Bartholemew. Cross him, and he will erase you.

His powers are limited, however, and he can't give me back the time I'm spending on this. Why, Barthole--

Oh, hell with it:

5. The ability to refuse to completely participate in this farcical exercise. Harumph.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
You! Oh, I'm always thinking about you! See how I left my sixth thing blank? You are that thing!

Why don't you respond to my pathetic pleas for attention? By golly, why can we not just skip this whole OKC thing and get married, like granny wants us to?
On a typical Friday night I am
Knitting hats for starving orphans. Your funtastic Fridays with their happy hours, dancing, dinners, and entertaining friends disgust me, you hedonist pig.

How could you? The orphans--will--not--survive--not unless they eat a fistful of yarn. You're damning them by living with neither guilt nor fear!

I should think the above is perfectly reasonable and segues very well into the next essay.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Remember that time, a long time ago, when I was telling you about that thing I spend a lot of time thinking about?

I--I'm having second thoughts. I've been thinking a lot about the future since I wrote that, and I think maybe we need a little bit of a break from eachother. I'm not even saying that I want to see other people, I just need some time alone.

I know how this might sound, and I know that it might hurt a little, but I just need to breathe a little before we take this any further. I know it sounds a little corny and maybe somewhat insincere, but just believe me when I say it: it's not you, it's me.

If you hate me now, I'll understand. I do hope that I can sort all this out and talk to you soon.
I’m looking for
  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 24–34
  • Near me
  • Who are single
  • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating
You should message me if
You wish to compete in the telling of silly tales, the making of absurd accusations, and/or the contrivance of ridiculous contexts.

That, or if you think you can get an honest answer out of me on any subject at all.