This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

I Play Sims 2 (part7)

Oh no! Eugene is going to react poorly to this.
Hrm. I don't think anyone saw this coming, though.
But there is good news - I think the baby is coming. Hard to tell, Harris seems to be experiencing rain.
Nope, he's sproinging. Definitely an infant on the way.
Not a moment too soon, either. I can't be the only one getting sick of the pregnant rage dances.
Let's name her Giuliana, then get her out of the room before the next bare knuckle brawl.
This looks like some good, old-fashioned roistering.
Although, if it's causing bladder malfunctions, you might want to consider dialing down a bit of the aggression.
Are we sure Giuliana's not some sort of wild animal hybrid?
Her screams make me want to slam my head into the trash compactor, too.
Pretending you're crackers isn't going to get you out of dealing with your child, Gretchen.
You gotta get more involved - I mean, there are fights breaking out every five minutes. The child could be trod upon.
Your dad and the father of your child are coordinating sleepwear, which ... well, I just don't approve of.
And while Harris is outside trying to catch butterflies ...
... this weirdly over-dressed lady is just glomming all over your kid.

And you - you're in here having a great old time barfing. Oh shit. You're having another damned baby.

You've been so busy, you didn't even notice that Giuliana grew up!
And she's eating lobster thermidor! Yeah, bet you never thought you'd see the day
your chinless daughter was stuffing her face with French food.
To be fair, these two constantly slamming each other around every time they end up in the
same room with nothing better to do is a strange way for anyone to try to live.

Well, baby Mina is here. Maybe now you can get your act together.
This is what you wear to work? Where's this job, down by the docks?
Enjoy the other side, Eugene. This side is weird as hell.
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Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Tasting Food (part2)

Time to ingest edibles again, for better or worse.

Here's a treat my mom brought home for me!

Not much to say, really. Who wouldn't appreciate a surprise caramel apple?

Fortunately, I'm not in the habit of biting into fruit I can't visually inspect.

Seriously? Seriously.

When I mentioned my rotting apple to my mother, she said, "yeah, mine wasn't that great either."

She ate hers. She ate hers.


This next one has a back story that would in no way fully justify or explain why I bought it.

Spoiler alert. I should have fed myself the tray.

My kids never ate these while toddlers. I was curious.

Sometimes, you need to learn the hard way.

This was awful, okay? The flavor was even worse than the appearance. It tasted like sadness - like that sort of depression you enter where you stop feeling anything. A butterfly could alight on your finger and wink at you, and you'd react with a sigh. That sort of mood - but in your mouth, boring your tongue to death.

I tried to make it palatable, so I could finish it. I hate wasting food that has little chance of actually poisoning me. I added Frank's Red Hot.

Dammit! Now it just looks sad and embarrassed.

I can lick Frank's Red Hot from a paper plate, but I still could not make myself eat this ravioli. That means now I've just wasted food and Frank's Red Hot! I could cry.


An entree'. I found this in my mother's basement freezer, nearly crushed by leftover take-out General Tso's Chicken, Market Day pizzas, mysteriously bagged garlic knots, something so freezer-burned it defied identification, boxes of fully-cooked bacon, and a plastic container of year-old cake slices my mom claims are from the Cake Boss. Her mental processes when it comes to food baffle me.

As you can see, she spared no expense
Also, this is expired. Of course.

But, I went for it anyway, despite that I really really (it's impossible to overstate how much I really) hate sweet potatoes in any form. I'll just eat around them.

Okay, fine. I'll wipe them off things, too.

Look at that one bit of chicken, refusing to be a joiner. Get in the game, chicken. You were born to be Marsala. I know it looks like barbecue sauce with enigmatic clots, but it's your destiny, and I'm hungry.

This meal startled me with its ability to be consumed without misery. I fully expected to be able to bebop and scat about how horrible this food was for a couple paragraphs, but it was actually pretty damned good - especially for expired frozen food for under two bucks. I'm not even kidding, there is another one of these down in the basement and I have already licked the box so no one else can have it.


Something sweet!

The boomCHOCOboom bar. I think a friend of mine used to work there.

I like to enjoy life as much as the next person, which is why I decided to try this dairy, nut, soy and gluten free treat. I'm lying. I was challenging this candy to deliver, as I couldn't believe anything so free of everything delicious could possibly be an agreeable dessert.

If there is anyone out there who actually thinks this tastes good, it's because they're on a steady diet of straw and oats. It's like biting into a thin bar of soap which has a flavor reminiscent of Nesquik powder. No melty sensation - you just smash at it with your teeth until your mouth gathers enough saliva to swallow it. It has an aftertaste that just won't quit, too

I force-fed a piece to my step dad - he was pissed off and disgusted for a full ten minutes. So I'll give it a point for that. It's a great way to ruin someone's 10 minutes.

Fresh out of people's days to mess up, I threw the rest of the bar out. I didn't even feel bad about it.


Sweet! (part2)

At least they're pareve kosher, so you can pair them with either dairy or meat. The choice is yours.

I'm a glutton for gluten-free experiments. Plus, I wanted to try a cookie constructed without the benefit of typical cookie-making ingredients.

Four cookies? But my mom says I'm only allowed to have three at a time.

I am delighted and astonished to report that the flavor of this product is more like a chocolate chip cookie than it's not. The texture is another story, from another book, on another planet. I have no idea how they managed to get them to look so much like a normal cookie, yet bite so much like a crouton. I feel like I'm in the future. A bad future, where people don't know the sweet glory of a real cookie.

Sweet! (part3)

And now you've seen cake that's been frozen for a year.

Right after I wrote up there *points* about the contents of my mother's basement freezer including an alleged Cake Boss cake, I noticed it had been moved upstairs to the fridge. I couldn't help myself. I needed to know.

I was unimpressed. The icing made me say, "well, okay." The little strip of chocolate ganache between the layers made me say, "alright, sure."

The cake itself? What the hell. This was a simple two-layer cake, but the density was pumped up to support four or five tiers above it. So I'm going to change my use of the term "alleged" to "probably" a Cake Boss cake. Anytime I've watched that show, or any of its ilk, the cakes never look like they'd taste delicious, precisely because they need to be hard as a brick to support whatever stupid shape is happening.

Plus, who the hell wants to eat a cake with components that have been handled and molested by several different people. Think about how much fondant alone is manipulated. Hands smoothing it endlessly. Touch, touch, touch. Mold, touch, fix, adjust, touch. Touch.

Then you put it in your mouth, because it looks pretty. What are you, a toddler? You disgust me.


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Tuesday, December 2, 2014

I Play Sims 2 (part6)

Eugene, just tell her she sounds like Pavarotti so she'll stop.
This sucks. You were just starting to grow on me, Maura.
Now Eugene is old. Well don't think you're retiring, old man. I won't have it.

You fools are annoying enough when he's got places to be up the sharply angled road.
All day, every day of this crap? No thanks.
Oh stop. You'll still have plenty of canoodling time. Gah.
Alright, Gretchen - it's just adulthood. No new to chew the scenery about it.
Hey Doc, while you're in there, try convincing her to ditch the pink hair. It's getting on my nerves.
That's it, shake her up good.
Eh. The hair's better at least.
Thankfully, she's wasting no time finding a man with whom to discuss hot bowls of blood.
You'll be pregnant in no time, Gretchen.
Once Harris figures out what the hell is going on. Use smaller words, Gretch.
Hrm. Hard to tell how Geneva feels about him. Immortals can be so inscrutable.
Oh cool, she loves him.
Harris is just, you know ...
... so damned easy to get along with.
So very hip, too.
You two really need to find some hobbies other than irritating me.
And I definitely need to get that bar off the back deck.
I Play Sims 2 (part7)
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