Blog Sells

As some of you know, I've been whoring my blog out at the official Sims 3 Facebook fan page, which has drastically increased my daily page views. Before then, most of my views could be attributed to the same couple of people checking my blog over and over again to see if I had posted an update or if someone had replied to a comment.

Since I write a Sims story, it would probably be sort of psychotic for me not to seek out Sims 3 players to read my blog.  But, I couldn't just throw my link up once on a page with about 6 million fans and expect that to be enough.  I had to be a nag about it, and post it a few times a day - and I couldn't just link to my Sims story and say, "read my blog, y'all!" because, well - nobody gives a shit.  Do you have any idea how many people write Sims stories?  Everybody, that's how many - and they're all putting their link up and saying, "check out my legacy & follow plz!"

A staggering amount of those people are linking to a story they haven't even started writing yet - a terrifying amount are trying to bore us into a coma with the 100 baby challenge.  What's the 100 baby challenge, you ask?  As far as I can tell, it's an attempt to create something more mind-numbingly eye-drying than stacking saltines on your god-forsaken eyeballs.  I could be wrong.  I wouldn't touch it with your eyeballs.

As a result, every time I post a link to my Sims stories, I have to say something stupid to get the attention of the attention-deficient.  Since you're here, it's safe to assume you actually enjoy the weird crap I spit out on a whim, so I've decided to post a chunk here and there of those fairly ridiculous and sometimes disturbing things I say to get people to come for the Sims and stay for the warping of their minds.

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Check out the Sims story I write for my blog. Everybody hates it. I mean, they love it ... the 15 people I poke with sticks to read it. But if you read it, I won't poke you, I promise.

I have an ongoing Sims story on my blog (among other crap I talk about). The great thing is that reading this story is good for your skin (if you wash your face once you're done reading). It's also calorie-free, and won't make you smell, unless you already do.

Don't read this blog. It will make you grow an extra arm ... from your EYE.
(This one did not work at all. Almost no hits.)

I've fixed the problem of extra arms growing from your eye, so it's safe to read the Sims story on my blog. In fact, I've added a feature where it actually makes your arms ... better. Than they were. Imagine how great your arms could be if you read my story from beginning to end and then followed my blog? Holy crap, it's too wonderful to even think about.

I've placed a magical spell on my blog that will bestow upon all its readers superhuman awesomeness. You can't beat that. Unless you have a really big stick.

I don't actually write this Sims story, the Sims voices within my head do - and they told me to tell you that if you read their blog, they'll give you candy. Personally, I wouldn't trust them. You have no idea how they abuse me.

You know how sometimes you think to yourself, "I'm bored, but lazy. I want to put something into my eyes, and there should be pictures." I have the answer: my blog. It is a terrific waste of your time. Put it into your eyes.

My Sims said that if I don't tell you all to come read about them, very bad things will happen to me. They also said that if I didn't remind people to follow or click the "Like" button on the right-hand side of the blog, I would live to regret it. I'm really worried that even though I did what they told me to do, they're still going to torture me.

You guys should read this blog because 1. There are Sims in it and they're always getting up to something. 2. It's great for your diet, if you eat vegetables while reading it. 3. I love you.

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As an extra bonus for putting up with all of that, here's a recent conversation I had on the Sims 3 fan page, which is probably more difficult to deal with than anything else I've said in this post. Enjoy.

I Play Sims (part24)

The Rosenzweigs settle into their new home quickly and get right down to business as usual.
 
Out on her new deck, Rachel engages in a rousing phone debate about what could either be a poorly-drawn sarcophagus or a large, strangely decorated snack cake.

Rachel also continues to thumb her nose at the physical laws of the universe at every opportunity.

As for Suri, she still paints and guitars.

Suri also experiences some distinctly complicated thoughts about the Yeti while doing a load of laundry.

Stanley's taken a turn for the handy and has declared a war on the household appliances, in which he violently assaults each one by menacing it with a metal tool, in an effort to either improve its performance or render it unbreakable.

But don't ask him to repair the desktop computer when it breaks, because he will flip a shit on you.

While in the midst of beating up on the fireplace with a hammer to make it fireproof, Stanley's expression changes from grim determination to something different.

But I wasn't entirely certain what was going on until I saw this:

You should probably not stand right on top of the fire.  Is my advice.

Oh good, Suri is here.

Hell yeah, Suri.  You just Columbo'd the hell out of that situation.


You might want to think about putting him out.

It's alright, Stanley, she can take a nap or something.

Meanwhile, where has Rachel been throughout all this drama?
Oh there she is, having a laundry sniff.

Mmhm, okay.  Your house was just on fire, Rachel.

But things aren't just house fires and freshly washed clothing for Rachel - she's also been doing a little bit of work on her inventions.

Nevermind, she just made a toy dog.  It's kinda cute, actually.  Suri will be all over that.

Stanley seems to be in a strange mood lately, though - all full of oats and feeling his beans.  Wait - that does not sound right at all - switch it around.  Either way, his ornery attitude has him making regretable decisions all over the place.

But before Rachel has the chance to go find a vagrant to kick, she gets an upsetting phone call.

What with Rachel being an efficient sort of girl, she blows through all five stages of grief at a fast clip.

I Play Sims (part25)

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My trip to Fry's

So ... my god damned laptop asploded - on birthday eve.  I loved that stupid laptop.  I had very relaxing, humble and thoughtful plans for it on my birthday.  I was going to do a little online shopping, buy it a nice cooling fan for when I play Sims 3.

Negatory.  Apparently, that voodoo curse someone put on me not only hasn't worn off, but has taken a stronger foothold and is now spitting on my neck while gleefully punching my laptop's innocent, upturned face.

When I say this event ruined my birthday, it is like saying that your obnoxious goy boyfriend making Holocaust jokes at your Aunt Goldie's Passover Seder dinner ruined his reputation within your family.  It's more of an utter and complete destruction, with tears, proclamations, ultimatums and a couple of punches thrown.

Here's the thing: husband is laid off - buying a new laptop is not in the budget.  We just had no choice because if I can't computer, I can't friend & family, can't hobby and I can't write.  If I don't do those things, I make my husband miserable. 

So, I went online and ordered a new laptop from Fry's, which I could pick up from the store about a half hour later.  This is after about 24 hours of pure, unmitigated horror and distress and two days of very little sleep.  By the time I got to Fry's, I was basically death warmed over and completely unburdened by an internal filter.

I walk in and the place is huge.  I had no idea where to go, but instead of feeling self-conscious about this like I normally would and attempting to play it off I went in the other direction completely.  I was as conspicuous as possible, walking around like a confused yokel who'd never seen a fancy big-city store before.  I finally found an employee and explained to him that his store is enormous.  He agreed.  He also told me to go to the check-out and tell them I had a "will call" order.

I waited for a few minutes in line behind a large woman buying two bags of Pepperidge Farm cookies at an electronic store, until I reached the line concierge who directed me to cash register number 12.  I was greeted by a small, quiet Hispanic woman, who could not find my laptop.  In her nervousness, she flung a pen at me while asking me to write my name down.  I asked her what I ever did to her.  She still could not find the laptop. 

Apparently, I was supposed to go to the back of the store to the computer department - they said my cashier would join me in my quest, so I wouldn't lose my place in line. 

"Come on, let's take a walk together!" I said excitedly.  "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." she replied.

The journey was long and the company small and terrified, yet pleasant.  When we finally arrived at the hallowed computer department my companion timidly approached Billy Corgan at the cash register.  Okay, it wasn't actually Billy Corgan - it was a guy who looked like a young Billy Corgan with hair and a hipster stubble beard, dressed like a Mormon. 

My companion spoke.  Billy Corgan leaned down with a measure of irritation and informed her he couldn't hear her.  She spoke again.  Billy looked at me and said, "it's a laptop?"

"Super bad laptop." I corrected, looking into his eyes and nodding, with the straightest face anyone has ever made in their life.  "Super bad laptop." he repeated with an amused smirk before he went to the back to retrieve it.  As the minutes passed, my companion became more tremulous and skittish, reassuring me that my laptop would be coming soon, and that she was so, so sorry.  She also explained that my laptop wouldn't be in a large box, but a small one.  Good to know ahead of time.  I might have thrown a fit, since I was expecting him to roll out with a box the size of a washing machine. 

Billy came back with the laptop and handed it to my cashier.  This is the point where whatever tenuous link I had with how to behave in public ended, full stop.  Billy told me that "bags" were on sale for 15% off and offered to sell me one.  Instead of saying, "No, thank you." like a sane, functioning member of society, I emitted a sound which, once repeated to husband, sent him into a fit of laughter.  It was sort of the word "no", but how a pissed-off duck on quaaludes would say it.

Unswayed by my quacking, Billy offered me an extended warranty.  "Naaawp!" I replied, screwing my face into a disdainful, exhausted expression.  "Are you sure?" he pressed, "after fifteen days it's out of our hands."  Because I am truly, at my core, an evil person when I haven't slept, I gave him hope by thinking about this for a few seconds.  Then I quacked "no" a third and final time - but I put some stank on it.  He gave up.  I'm sure he wanted to punch me in the face and vagina concomitantly.

I turned to my companion in this quest.  She smiled.  I'd just acted like Al Bundy toward a guy who was a little rude to her, so I think she liked me now.  She looked down at the cardboard box she was holding, and the security tape covering the seam.  She looked back up and me and said with an inordinate amount of reverence and happiness, "Is nice!"  I often judge things by their security tape, so yes.  Is nice.  As we walked back to the check-out, she hugged my laptop and said, "Is your borthday present!"  Clearly, I'd given her my crazy.

It wasn't until I got home, repeated my conversations to husband and saw his reactions that it occurred to me that I'd just acted like an escaped mental patient picking up a computer. 

In the midst of all the stress of my beloved laptop dying, as I was shopping for my laptop, I was purely looking at specs and prices.  Would it play Sims 3 without grunting like gassy old man?  Would I be able to add expansions without sacrificing graphics detail or experiencing lag?  Needless to say, when I opened the box, I was not prepared for what I saw.

 A box so fancy, I looked for a nose on which to pin a rose.  Let's open it.

Another box.  I'm exhausted already.

Now there's a bag. If there was anything other than a laptop inside of it, I'd have gone straight to bed.  My arms are weak from all this unpacking, that's why the photo is blurred.

Ohhh.  Seriously?  This is officially the nicest thing is my house.

There's been some sort of mistake. My wrists aren't qualified to rest on real bamboo.  My lower-class sweat will ruin the finish within a week.

Since I know the nerdly will inquire, I'll post the specs.  This is not an effort to brag because I don't fully understand what most of it means.  I do know that this is by no stretch of the imagination a gaming laptop, so it's nothing to really brag about.  When I was shopping, I just sent the link to my sister (who really knows how to computer) for her opinion and she approved. 


ASUS U43Jc-XA1Display: 14-inch Slim-Type LED-backlit HD display (1366 x 768)
Hard Drive: 500GB (5400RPM) Hard Drive (SATA)
Memory: 4GB DDR3 1066MHz

Processor: Intel® Core™ i5-460M Processor (2.53GHz up to 2.8GHz Max with Turbo Boost Technology, 3MB cache) (uh-huh, uh-huh - tell me more I don't understand about this computer.)

Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce 310M 1GB DDR3 VRAM with Optimus Technology + Intel Graphics Media Accelerator HD (this might as well be Portuguese, because I have no idea.)

The Great Birthday Explosion

Hey, guess what? It was my birthday a couple days ago and in honor of it, the Universe conspired to destroy what little hope I had left by blowing up my laptop on birthday eve.  I did what I could to repair it, but it quickly became obvious it was gone - and with it, a few things I would need to continue writing the Sims story for this blog.  I had been religiously backing up my game saves, but I may not have backed up my mods folder recently enough to get all of my new custom content - which would mean that I'd have to go shopping for a lot of it again - especially things installed by the launcher that weren't from the store.

I'm having stuff from my hard drive extracted, so hopefully I'll be able to get the photos and videos I need to continue writing the Sims story.  It just hadn't occurred to me to back up pictures that hadn't yet been made into a story.  I guess I learned my lesson.

Now I just have to hope for the best when it comes to putting my backed-up saves into my newly-installed game. 

How this all affects you is that I will not be able to post the Sims story I promised this week.  I'm sorry - but basically, the only thing that would cause this to happen is a major illness or death in my family or catastrophic equipment failure, which is the case this time.

I don't want to think about what will happen if my saved game doesn't work, or if I'm unable to retrieve the stuff from my hard drive.  I'm sorry this post isn't funny.  This situation was the least funny thing to happen to me in a long time.  But!  I did have a fairly insane experience while picking up my new laptop that will be my next post, and ... it's not at all as dry and boring as this.  Stay tuned.

Facebook Ads (this time it's serious)

Don't you just love those ads on the side of your Facebook page?  Don't answer - of course you do.  Everybody loves seeing a failgorithm do its job.

Speaking of which, despite the fact that my name in no way resembles anything bird-related, I never discuss birds, I remain quite birdless and that I am, in-fact, still not a damned bird, Facebook ads continue their steadfast obsession with birds - parrots, in particular.  Let's take a freaking gander.

Pretty standard stuff here. Except if your parrot can't whistle, it's probably a hamster. Look into it.
Things do get a little strange, though.

Talk about bucket lists?  Yes, let's.  I thought you'd never ask.

Then what we have are your general wildlifery type ads.  Facebook is under the misapprehension that Nico spends a lot of time out-of-doors.  Facebook hasn't seen Nico's alabaster skin.

Facebook's overflowing, nearly infinite wisdom has now decided that I would make a stellar drug counselor.  Ha!  You're not a trip, Facebook - you're a 50-foot fall!