Hobbit 138 profile picture

Hobbit 138

I am here for Dating and Friends

About Me

I am a lizard. Now you might see me in a human form however this is only a trick of the eyes and a sly manipulation on my behalf. In realities, that which you chose to disregard and hide away under layers and layers of fantasy, need, and fear, I am merely a green lizard. Not any sort of special lizard, I don't have paralyzing saliva like that of the Komodo dragon, I don't have the spontaneity of the Jesus Lizard, or the cuteness and adorable characteristics that made the Gecko so popular. I am an amphibious nuisance that falls in the family of salamanders, better known as: Ambystoma macrodactylum, Ambystoma tigrinum, Dicamptodon aterrimus, Plethodon idahoensis, or Taricha granulosa--in fact we're not lizards at all but closer to toads & frogs. If you shake hands with me, you'll understand, all salamanders have soft, moist skin. My revealing this information about myself, I hope that a few of you will be curious enough to research further and educate the rest of the public on amphibians and how we are far from snakes, and especially persuasive serpents. Myths and folklore will have you believe that salamanders live in fire and are part of the fowl associated with the devil. Completely wrong! We are neutral creatures that prefer long soaks in water over conflict, similar to America before the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915. Furthermore, I conclude, I hope to fit in with the human race: Homo sapiens. You're a joyful bunch and have taught me much about dance, music, board games, expensive dining, booty calls, fighting the man, communism and the still existing iron curtain, overcoming one's phobia of kittens, apertures and f-stops, robot maintenance, hygiene, coffee cake, stopping to smell the roses, beauty, and the all too powerful hypnotic spell called LOVE. THANKS FOR YOUR MANY LESSONS AND PATIENCE.

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

GOD and Jesus on the corner of Park Avenue and 5th Street just after they've finished brunch and are bickering over the quality of the bacon. I bring it to their attention that both could have easily used their magic to correct the bacon. This only creates further conflict, when Heavenly Father and his Celestial son (not unlike Hercules) would turn all their frustrations onto my feeble, mortal soul and I would fail to impress them with my quick scripture search scrimmage. In the end, both divine beings understand my inadequacy with life and offer me a desk job. I accept and the local newspapers print that I committed suicide with mumbles of grandeur and whispers about someone referred to as J.C. and everyone suspects it stands for June Crisk the renowned writer of many short subject segments found on the back of cereal boxes.