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





Tuesday, September 24, 2013

I Play Sims (part64)

When the family returns home from the rager at Logan & Robert Wilson's new place, they notice immediately that something is ... different.

What could it possibly be?


No, Poppy, your hand has always been at the end of your arm.
Whoa, whoa - what?! This den floor is looking damned empty. Where the hell is Ms. Chase!?
Oh, she's just playing chess on the back patio with a haunted chair. As you do.
I think the chair might be winning.
Looks like it's time to mosey. Goodbye, Ms. Chase!
I don't know how you got stuck to the den, or how you extricated yourself, but we had fun, that's for sure.
Parting is such confusing sorrow, it seems.
I suppose you can stay through graduation, Kayla, just don't go getting any ideas about sticking yourself to anything.
And put on some damned clothing.
Hrm. Looks like a group is forming. What's going on here?
Oh I see, it's a meeting of the Peevish and Cranky. Well, where the hell is everyone else?
Poppy's fishing on a cliff-edge. Can't say I didn't see that one coming.
Stanley's gone to the gym to contemplate his constipation.
Wait, Stanley - I see the problem. You've got a bag of coins coming out of your ass. That's where you went wrong.
The mailman is throwing tantrums, so I'm not sure why he didn't turn up for the meeting.
Kayla's managed to get something done while wearing clothing, so that's new.
Ugh, okay. Take your clothes off. I'm not arguing with anyone who can make a notebook disappear with just a glower.
I was wondering where Frida was. "Near a building" was my first guess, too.
Ah, she's meeting with King Travis. He's looking pretty snazzy in those high-waters.
Other than having some sort of 1950s fashion appreciation meeting, I'm clueless as to why these two are getting together.
I think she's imparting wisdom on how King Travis could get his whites whiter.
I agree. This exchange is freaking hilarious.
Ordinarily, I'd tell these two to knock it off, but Stanley has good reason to need a little extra comfort today.
First, Kayla made him talk about cast-iron skillets.
Then it was his turn to mop up the unexplained puddle.
After that, he tried to get comfortable, but Suri chased him around the room and made fun of him for not having slippers on.
Then he couldn't find ANY stars at all.

Immediately afterward he turned invisible for a few minutes, which made it hard to grimace at anyone.
And this whole shitty day was capped off by having to take guff from chess table.
Hope tomorrow's better for ya, Stanley.
I Play Sims (part65)
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Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Blog Tapas for Everyone! (you get a blog tapas! you get a blog tapas!)

I dreamed ...

that Ashton Kutcher told my husband "never trust a girl willing to tug you off faster than an energetic 1-800 sex-thin."

~
that while walking down a hallway in high school, I flailed my arm up to gesture and accidentally poked (and got my finger stuck in the corner) of Oprah Winfrey's eyeball. She was really calm about it, and after I got my finger out, we decided we both had to pee. She led the way, opened the door to the rest room for me, and I decided to start pre-washing my hands in the sink with mud.

A young boy walked up to me and I shoved him and said, "get away from me!" I heard Oprah gasp and say, "oh my god!" and when I looked up, she was gone. I realized she'd led us into the men's room. She was unapologetic about the mistake. When I found the ladies room, it was full of young women whose hair indicated they'd been napping on the couches in there since the 60s. They languidly refused to let me use a toilet because I wasn't popular enough.

I went back to the men's room, which was now stuffed to death with handsome European soccer players and they were all very nice about showing me to a stall and explaining how to use it, but once the door was closed, I couldn't move because my boobs were suddenly huger than usual. I gave up and went to class where I found myself holding a crayon the size of a truncheon, and a handbag full of arcade tokens.

~
that someone had made a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid, and I couldn't figure out how to fit it in the fridge, but I didn't want to throw it away, so I just woke up.

~
that I had to report for jail, but first I wanted to grab a quick bowl of Rice Krispies. Unfortunately, I had no bowl or spoon nor milk. I looked up after starting to reach into my box and realized I was standing next to Lady Gaga's boyfriend, who was also eating his own Rice Krispies by hand - but he had poured milk straight into his box. I rudely reached over and grabbed a wet handful and started shoveling it into my mouth.

He was quite put out, yet started sharing his cereal by dropping fistfuls into my hand for me. Gaga walks up and before I can leave, she insists that I try to freestyle a song about how she's a hair stylist. I do terribly, of course, so I just reach down to pet her cat, and tell her that she's a very good kitty.

~~~~~

Sister: I'm going to attempt this applicatorless tampon. Wish me luck.
Me
ugh. I can't do those. my fingers are too stubby. good luck.
Sister:
I have free ones and i wore a pad all day. I cant suffer another minute in my own filth.
Me: pads are ew.
Sister:
I only wear them when I'm being lazy.
Me: or like squishing around.
Sister: Or like wearing a diaper.
Me:
and having your crotch smell like a bloody swamp.
Sister:
I just read in detail about this tampon
Me:
"INSERT." "YOU KNOW WHERE."
Sister: Looooo
Me: well, I guess it's time for me to move to the couch and stare at the tv.
nice chat. hope your vagina holds your tampon well. I say that with the deepest love. har.
Sister: thanks for the words of vaginal encouragement.

~

Me
(on her Facebook wall):
you can't hammer a nail with your face, unless your face is made out of hammers.
Sister:
Or just one big hammer.
Me:
not as efficient as several hammers.
Sister:
well, if you use the hammers one at a time in rapid succession, it's more effective. If you try to use them all at once, you end up with holes in your wall.
Me: trust me, my hammer face would be the most sensible.
Sister: of course, of course.

~~~~~

This is a message a girl I know from a Facebook group got sent by someone who has just got to be her new best friend by now.


~~~~~

These are a few ads Facebook actually wanted me to pay for to promote my page.




Now give us a kiss.
.








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Tuesday, September 10, 2013

I Play Sims Asylum (part2)

When last we left the inmates, most of them were taking grumpy naps on the floor, mere farting distance from like, actual beds.

'twas a mighty funk which roused them; especially disturbed is our resident clean bean, Rev.

Rev tries to remedy the situation through vigorous hand-scrubbing, to no avail.
She's still retching near the workout equipment ...
...and scowling at the counter.
Until it occurs to her ...
She can clean.
She can scrub.
She can magic the grime away through the powers of her tiny hands!

And as an extra bonus, she can do it while someone stares at her ass.
And this ass will inspire fear. Do you hear me?
Once you fix your gaze upon it, you will need to see a medical professional. So be fucking careful.
Stare too long, and you may never be right in the head again.
Meanwhile, watching Bunny Walker squat up to bed reminds me that Rev isn't the only girl getting attention for her ass.
Gaw damn. Amirite, Greg?
(also, that's one sweet pajama cardigan)
Don't worry, I'm sure once Arthur Derrick comes out of his fugue over Rev's butt, he'll give yours a proper ogle, Bunny.
Or you could grow an overbite and rage at him from behind. That's cool, too.
See? Now you've even got Husbro eyeing you up.
Welp, there he goes. He'll be useless for a few hours.
But how is everyone else doing?

Girls, you are grody. Congratulations, you won the contest against Ke$ha. Now go bathe.
Uhhhh .... okay, next!
I see the pajama party thrust-off is well underway. Looks like Greg is winning by a ... bulge.
Oh, don't mind him. He hates everything.
He even hates the new trampoline. I mean, who hates a trampoline.
Okay, fine. I stand corrected.
Maybe he does like it, just a little.
But it only reminds him about how much he hates Cory.
I wouldn't take it at all personally, though, Cory.
He hates me even when I'm properly bathed and words aren't coming out of my mouth
Just look at him skulking up to me later, when I'm all blind and vulnerable in my jammies.
Risking face and crotch just to try to make me piss my pants. What a guy.
For those curious about the game-choosed personality traits for our new best friends ...



I Play Sims Asylum (part3)
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