I have decided on a spell of photo-lessness. I assume this may well change how initial interactions on here go, and I want to see the results. Without an image up top, I kinda feel like this profile isn't even me. Well, in the near future perhaps I'll write enough here in these cute little boxes to make it more representative, pics or no.
I'm not opposed to letting people know what I look like. If you want to know, ask nicely and I'll send you a picture. If you'd like to send me a picture of you, or anything else, that's welcome too. Just say something, and we can pass links, attachments, as you like.
I also accept unsolicited pictures of genitals. Those you can send to me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
And so, let's be a little more exact about the "My Details" box to your right--------------------------------------------------------------->
Last Online: The last time it says I was online over there is probably pretty accurate.
Ethnicity: My Great-Greatparents ventured to the Americas from Luxembourg.
Height: I'm actually more like 5'11'' & 11/12ths of an inch.
Didn't quite make it to 6 foot flat, and I feel that just below it is the perfect height.
Body Type: Average: I'm 5'11 & 11/12'' (182cm) tall and weigh 150 lbs (68kg). This gives me a Body Mass Index of a little over 20, placing me comfortably within the Normal weight range. I have no real muscles, and only strategic softness.
Diet: I don't eat flesh. Not because I care about cruelty or anything. Just developed a psychological aversion after years of practice (i.e. eating flesh is gross).
Smokes: I quit two years ago. Occasionally, I'll go in for being terrible and bum one. The first 1/3rd is great, the second 1/3rd is questionable, and the last bit of the cigarette is an imposition / offensive to my newly sensitive respiratory system, and I'll go another season before the next, hopefully. I used to smoke more every single day than I have in the last two years, total.
Drinks: With grapefruit or olives.
Drugs: Sometimes I have to put myself down.
Religion: Nope. Anvils in the sky, maybe. But that's more fear than faith.
Sign: Everything is a sign.
Educated: Barely. I can read. I have to sit down to divide.
Income: I have never made more than $20,000 in a year, and I've only come close once.
Children: This stops here.
Pets: Cats, if they have free and unlimited access to the outdoors, I may like. Dogs are idiots—yours too, especially if you taught it tricks.
Speaks: Yup. Barks too. I can roll over.
"[Preachers] dread the advance of science as witches do the approach of daylight and scowl on the fatal harbinger announcing the subversions of the duperies on which they live.” —TJ
"I am an expert of electricity. My father occupied the chair of applied electricity at the state prison." —William Claude Dukenfield
"Just this week, my husband proposed a plan for schools and libraries to develop their own plans to keep children from finding indecent material on the Internet as an alternative to a Congressional proposal that would require a federally mandated solution." —Tip Gore
"I still have my feet on the ground, I just wear better shoes." —O
"No matter what time it is, wake me, even if it's in the middle of a Cabinet meeting." —R&R
"Wash four distinct and separate times, using lots of lather each time from individual bars of soap." —Hughes
#2: I don't do well with following instructions.
I'm infatuated with hyperbole, desperately reliant on spell check, and don't understand how anything works.
Sometimes I think the sky might be a blue-painted anvil.
I want to romanticize the Midwest.
I think everything is funny.
. . . you'd like to go explore the city.
. . . you'd like to go explore other cities.
. . . you want to tell me of art spaces to visit.
. . . you have online activities you'd like to pimp.
. . . you like to see symphonic music on the cheap.
. . . you know of adventurous to-dos in Albany Park.
. . . you want to point me to something you've made.
. . . you want to spill the secrets of your neighborhood.
. . . you desire to relate a personal story in a public theatre.
. . . you want to write out your first memory and send it to a stranger.