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

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

I Play Sims (part52)

I've noticed a new development in the Rosenzweig household ...
Other than Logan trying to begin every conversation by standing close enough to nearly be behind the person...
Suri and Logan's relationship appears a bit strained.
I mean, honestly. Who takes a call when Logan's trying to press all up against you in a bathroom? It's just not logical.
For reasons I'm still trying to work out, Darryl has invited the entire household to his home for a pool party.
This family can cluster like it's their raison d'être.

Hey, Robert Wilson. Let's talk about that shirt.
I'm starting to suspect it's why you might have super powers of conjuring bread and jam.
Stanley's having a birthday party! Let's clump together on the front steps!
Hey! She made it out of the car!
And she's gotten married to Super Afro Boy! They look so happy.
She made it about 5 minutes inside. I think she misses the sweet caress of her car.
This is the best way to kick off a celebration of life. This party has everything ...
Martial Arts.
This bit of wackiness between family members.
Grim determination to not have a good time.
A critic in a vintage powder blue suit.
Interpretive dance.
Magic cake! Old man sweaters!
Logan flirting as though the world will end tomorrow.
Rejected affections!
and finally, an after-party complete with the abyss looking into you!

When's the next party, is what I want to know.

I Play Sims (part53)

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Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The Move (also, fashion)

Well, it's happening. We're moving. To the middle of nowhere, after living in the outskirts of a city. That's actually the good part, because I was honestly bored with getting caught in traffic just trying to grab a pint of damned blueberries at the grocery store.

I've been packing and organizing and making lists. It's the song of my people.

I've run out of boxes, as well as things that can be packed this early on, and there's no point in cleaning yet, so I'm sorta going crazy, because my "go, go dammit!" button is stuck on "fuck, go now!" Every other move I've had has been a god damned nightmare of chaos, so I'm attempting to beat this one into submission. Violently assault the problem until it surrenders its mysteries to me. Like I said, the song of my people.

Since there's only so much that can be said about expertly putting stuff into boxes, I also want to talk about my shitty taste in television. If you're one of the 5-1/2 people reading my Sims story, you probably already know that I'm obsessed with Rachel Zoe. I can't figure that one out, really, except that she's a cartoon of a human to me. If you're one of the 5-1/2 people who've seen my closet, you'd know that I'm not particularly into fashion - in fact, I spend most of my time in sweatpants, own literally four pairs of shoes (one of which is a pair of Gore-tex hiking boots) and I can't put together an outfit, even under threat of being garotted.

But - I find people who utter phrases like, "I'm coming undone. I can feel it in my eyes." in regards to clothing - and in total seriousness - completely intriguing. Everything is an emergency to them. Everything is dire. A garment needs to be altered as quickly as that sick person needs a new kidney. They're all having nervous breakdowns and dying in the streets fretting over what Anne Hathaway is going to wear to an awards show. When they're not spiraling toward their certain end over clothing, the clothing is fulfilling them in ways that don't seem appropriate for mixed company.

For once I'd like to see a stylist say something like, "This dress is blue. It completely covers her vagina. It's major. I just died."

That's pretty much all I got, kittens. Except for this, which I can't explain:

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Tuesday, March 12, 2013

I Play Sims (part51)

How many times do I have to tell you two "no, god no." about this sleeping arrangement?
Hey look, it's our old friend Wei Keane.
Hand to god, it didn't take me all this time to figure out his name is a pun on the word "waking". *nods*
Oh come on. She would have worked it out if you gave her enough time.
Your elderly mother is beating you, Stanley! You might want to try eating.
Gee, I just spent nearly 200 Simoleons on this picnic lunch - there must be some real treasures inside.
Hot dogs. Just hot dogs in there. Money well spent.
Poppy's going to her prom! All by herself. In that extravadiculously large limousine.
She came home with a crown, a new boyfriend and the best jazz hands/peg leg prom picture ever!
During the prom, Stanley randomly decides to favor his bestie with a ghost story.
Good job Stanley. He's all sorts of ready for bed now.
I just pulled a muscle sighing at you two.
You, Stanley - I give up on. Cuddle up with your mother next. Like I care.
Everyone else is asleep, Suri - where are you going?
Oh right. King Travis commissioned that painting from you. When did he move?
Well that's a tidy profit. And money always makes me think of llamas, too!
Great seeing you again, King Travis. Don't let us keep you or nothin'.
I'm going to file this one away as "family bonding time" and move on.
Even if she was age-appropriate, you're still barking up the wrong girl.
There you go, love magnet. This one might like you.
Oh good, she's bonkers. That's going to do you some favors, Logan.
At least she'll fit in with everyone else, treading all over the flowers and whatnot.
Thank the heavens, it's birthday time.
I'm as eager as you are to see how this kid turns out, but damn.
Nothing to see here. To the foyer!
Crossing my fingers hard for this one, Logan.
Watch out! He's headed straight for your balls!
A relief. Once his eyes uncross, he'll probably be adorable.
God damn you, Game! A pox on you!

I Play Sims (part52)
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