Dear reader, every once in awhile I get nervous about the alleged image of this site, about fancies and illusions it may unwittingly suggest.
Let us be clear with one another: Tollipop is not meant to be read as a lifestyle blog. It's meant to be read as a cautionary tale.
It's meant to be told to children in low, threatening tones: THIS is what happens to the girl who eats too many sweets!
And the child is meant never to have a good night's sleep from that moment on, staring into the darkness, haunted by notions she may grow up to keep dung beetles, forget carpool, and be the shortest one in her family.
I mention this because I keep getting correspondence wherein some poor innocent has apparently been romanced by my half-witted escapades to the point of deciding to try them out for herself.
Dear reader, that was never my intention. That was never my hope.
For example, I am not condoning the fraternization of little old men...especially when they are only in their mid sixties and have a French accent. Darling, when you come across one of those, rest assured that is no harmless specimen.
You are beholding nature in its prime. You are staring the top of the food chain right in its face.
So please, when you come across a thuggish looking bug, anything with fangs or biceps, do not attempt to exchange pleasantries simply because I gave the impression I'm out there talking to butterflies.
I may be talking to them, dear reader, but I assure you they ignore me completely.
Just...caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware.
Don't try to eat as many Hi Chews as I do. An elephant couldn't hack it.
Don't endow me with lofty, made-up virtues, like that of fastidious housekeeper, and wish you could be more that way when the truth is I'm not that way, either. But do let's cross paths sometime and go for a walk and become good friends.
Finally, don't conclude it is safe to walk down by the river with a total stranger because of my sentimental ruminations toward little old men. And while we're on the topic, any little old man in possession of a French accent pretty much cancels out the first two modifiers, darling.
I don't care if he's 62 or 102: les hommes français never lose their A game.
Let's remember that yes, this is a blog about danger, but danger to oneself. This is a blog about the thrill of the unknown simply because most things are beyond my ability to grasp. I torture the organ at church, I fail to note the occasion of American Thanksgiving because I don't register what week we're in, I temporarily forget to pick up children from school then rush them to 7-11 for a treat so they don't tell their parents, and my chocolate chip cookies never come out the same because the thought of following a recipe makes my face twitch.
I could go on, dear reader, but I hope you take my point. Whatever your reasons for visiting Tollipop, don't be lulled into a false sense of thinking you're in good hands.