An igloo-dwelling citizen from the land of Iglanadia, just south of the Eskinadian border, in a place where nipples spontaneously freeze into tiny popsicles. A true Iglanadian does not feel cold, nor do they see the concealed faces of their fellow Iglanadians. None would dare assume the gender of the Iglanadian, for not even the Iglanadian knows if the frozen cackles still dangle within. The Iglanadian speaks in tongues deemed unspeakable, and the Iglanadian community sanctions bartering of goat pelts, fish sticks, and obscenely nice compliments. The Iglanadian does not care for riches. Bitch please, Iglanadian real-estate is bomb AF.
by Arwin Shmarwin October 15, 2017