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

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

I Play Sims (part50)

Can you effing believe I'm up to 50 chapters of this stupid story? It's unreal my commitment to something that amuses about 5-1/2 people, some of whom have actually been written into the thing.

Logan's discovered the new girl who just moved in and looks to be on a collision course for her.
Girl, quit thinking about art and notice your surroundings. Doom is heading your way.

Okay, this is speedy, even for you.
Sure, sure - get the formalities out of the way.
I'm not totally certain this is the right time to tell her what planet you're from.
This is either a shared sneeze, or a brilliant ploy to stick your face in Ms. Chase's cleavage.
Yes, yes. You're an evil genius.
So what's your next move, huh?
What the hell did you just say to her, you naughty puppy?
Whatever it was, it seems to have hit the spot in the end. That's what she said.
Meanwhile, what's the deal with that car just hanging out in the middle of the street?
Alright. I think it's time for you to go home. Once you start staring at her shoes, the conversation has reached a conclusion.
Man, you are on fire today.
You know, in some cultures, pressing your entire body against your best friend's wife while clad
only in your underwear would be considered a rather rude way to start a conversation.
Yes. A step back would be prudent.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll go with you."
Subtle, Logan.
Guys, I see that car, as well. Could you start a conversation, please? While we're young.
Fantastic. You found a ladybug. Great chat, Logan - I think your blood sugar is dipping.
You chose a leftover slice of wedding cake from the now-defunct marriage of your girlfriend. I'd call that poetically
sinister, but mostly because of what that's going to do to your stomach. That cake's been around a looong time.
Everyone else decided to have leftover birthday cake. Again.
This family eats entirely too much cake. Throw a bowl of Goopy Carbonara in the mix now and then, y'all.
Guys, come on. Don't harass the woman who's in a vegetative state just for next year's Christmas card picture.
Do it because it's hilarious.

Time to cash that cake check you wrote. Best euphemism I could muster.
Glad you still consider it a success, though.
Oh damn. The bloom has definitely rubbed off of this relationship.

I Play Sims (part51)
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Monday, February 18, 2013

Hungry? Blog tapas.

Feels like forever since we had some tapas. Let's start with a story.

Apparently, after I left the detox center, I was meant to go directly to some sort of appointment - of which I was not informed - possibly because I am not yet psychic. So, two days after leaving the center, I'm just cooling out in my kitchen preparing a sandwich when I hear a sharp knock at the door. Husband answers it, and I hear a female voice asking for me. Since I know exactly zero people in this entire state who would show up at my door looking for me, I responded in the only appropriate way possible: "Holy crap!"

It's this chick, wearing way too much perfume, telling me that although I'm not in "trouble", I missed that "mandatory" appointment and she was coming to check on me. Basically, she was there to make sure I'd filled my prescriptions (thank god I decided to!), I hadn't had any alcohol since leaving the detox center (nope), and that I wasn't in a bathtub with my wrists all slit and stuff (so far, so very good on that one).

Yadda yadda yadda, she hands me a card, and to prove that I'm diligent I immediately turn around and move to put it on the bulletin board behind me. Right on top of a birthday card for husband which reads, "BEER BEER BEER BEER BEER is the answer". Grate.


Anti-depressants sort of make my properties noticeably ... slowed. I can often be found just staring at shit that doesn't warrant being stared at. Which will explain these next two pictures.


Not sure why the idea of Pop Tart "gear" vexed me so much, but it did. Am I going to have to start gearing up for eating toast and bagels too, or is it only fruit-filled items I'll be toasting? I'm exhausted already.

Thank god they're still putting directions on things that should be self-explanatory to any sentient being, because when Husband isn't applying the toothpaste tube itself directly to his teeth, he's smacking himself in the face with the box of Cheez-Its, lamenting his continuing hunger.


Just over a year ago, I used to spend a lot of late-night time on the Sims 3 Facebook fan page, largely being annoyed (because I wasn't yet drinking all the time), and thus spending a huge amount of time just reporting annoying 11-year-olds and spammers, because sometimes you need to take a break from trying to write your blog. I've had this picture sitting in a folder since then, and I still can't figure out why it tickled me so at the time, especially since I didn't actually report the page.


Celebrity-themed junk mail!!!


Facebook ads!

...and finally, one of my last drunken Skype dates with my sister. It is my very mature reaction to her accidental spillage of liquid cheese.

That's my "very, very drunken hair" happening there. It's having a party of its own.
Anyhoo, love you all. Some of you more than others, but if you play your cards right ...

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Tuesday, February 5, 2013

I Play Sims (part49)

Whoa watch out, friend.
You are getting taken downtown.
Oh. This is just his love. His harsh, scary love.
There must be a patch for this - that'll break something else.
Like Logan's ability to masticate and swallow without choking.
But man can not live on birthday cake alone.
Looks like Suri's made grilled cheese. Although, I find her posture a tad upsetting.
Ah. A nice, romantic evening grilled cheese - shared by the light of the glowing Smirnoff.
I can't look away. From the vodka.
"It's going to be partly cloudy tomorrow, baby."
I'll call this a ... puzzling response.
Choking. It's what's for dinner.
I always suspected that Stanley had a morning bellowing ritual.
It goes quite well with Frida's morning cackling ritual.
The uh, French word for awkward is "gênant".
Ideas are happening. This can't be a good thing.
I suppose this is one of those "put enough monkeys in a room with typewriters and you'll get Shakespeare" type deals.
Fuck a duck, look what you started, Rachel.
The pair of you really need to stop kibbutzing in bedrooms.
For real, though. On her best day, Suri could be described as "violently possessive".
D'aww. Logan! I had no idea! You little marshmallow.
Your secret's safe.
The word you're looking for here, is "anyway ..."
I play Sims (part50)
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