My name is Drucilla de Bootae’ ... Darlings, for me to tell you about my birth and childhood is forbidden.  Trolls may not divulge such secrets to outsiders.  The other trolls here know already this, and that is enough, my Pets.   When barely an adolescent troll, I fell in love with the stage, and acted and sang in many plays and musical revues.  I was the toast of all eastern Europe, my Lieblings!  Such painfully exquisite talent!  Such a malodorous alto voice!  Such beauty! (and such a booty!)  Ah, such innocence.   Not long into my theatrical career, a handsome, young, Bulgarian troll saw one of my performances, and declared his undyeable love for me.   He introduced himself: Baron Olaf Yurassov.  I say to you now that all lesser noblemen are trolls, though indeed few trolls are noble.  Did I say, Bulgarian?  Sweetings, he was Bulging!  Baron Bulging!   He wooed me with passion, and he wooed me with elegant gifts.  We attended the most posh elite society events, where I was introduced to many, many crowned heads of the world.  Or perhaps they covered the lumps on their noggins with expensive jewels, this I know not, my Darlings.  'Twas at a Festival of the Glitterati that I tragically lost my beloved Baron Olaf in a .... accident. We were making our entrance, when another caught his eye. She was a rather thin, lanky creature, not particularly attractive in my opinion. He left my side to introduce himself to her. Later that evening, we were walking along the Cliffside to gaze at the sunset when he slipped. Yes, slipped and fell off the edge.   I was inconsolable -- until an older but well-preserved prince took me gently into his arms and whispered, " A butt as bootilicious as yours belongs in my castle!"  My new patron had more talent as a sculptor than as a lover, and I modeled constantly for his statuary figures, lending divinity to clay form.   Under his um, *tutelage*, yes my Dears... I learned about life, love, and clay, discovering great talents of my own!    Rumor races through society like the wind in the trees of my troll homeland.  Again and again I was courted, by gentlemen experienced in courtly love.  My Sweets, that is why they call us "courtesans"!  Handed about was I, from one sculpture-loving royal to another, and another, and another!   All desired only my luscious lips, my billowing bosoms, and my bodacious butt.  I was feted, spoiled, adored.  It was life glamorous and full, yet tawdry and hollow, My Loves.    Alas,  I had no time for my art!  I had not picked up clay in decades, Darlings.  Then, while idly toying with the solid gold computer given me by my latest lover -- I saw it!  Yahoo!  (literally)  Beginner's Polymer Clay Art Guild!  Here were other sculptors with whom I could share my love of clay -- a dream come true perhaps, no?  Though of course, no butt can equal my own, I have found Peers in Art, who adore the clay as much as I!   Now, if I could only get that Walter clown's attention....