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| This sit-down has an air of charm with a smash of politeness. Well done, the both of you. |
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| Oh dear. Who made a stinky? |
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| Hrm. It could have been just about anyone. Guess we'll have to accept the mystery. |
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| God, Frida, don't try to eat it. What is wrong with you today? |
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| I'm not kidding, that was gross. No one will take you seriously if you keep gobbling their smells. |
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| Don't you even give me that look. I didn't do that one either. |
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| Ha! You're right. It kinda does smell like a pile of old books. Sorry about that. I mean, I'm sure the person who did it is sorry. |
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| Go ahead and judge me, Frida. At least I haven't started doing interpretive dance mid-conversation. In the foyer. |
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| I betcha regret saying "pics or it didn't happen." Betcha do, betcha do. |
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| I'll just check in on Stanley. He's talking to Robert Wilson's former imaginary friend/real girl now. Okay, then. |
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| "You've got to squash that falafel, bro." |
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| "Make it your bitch. Be like 'beeeeeetch, please.'" |
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| "Take that ish downtown, my man. Park it by the civic center. Show it a good time." |
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| "I once flew on a magical steak." |
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| "I got a falafel coming soon. It's as big as my head. I'm going to grind it good, best believe." |
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| Poppy, thank god you're here. You would not believe the far-out, kooky conversation Stanley's gotten himself into. |
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| Fine. I can take a hint. I know what it means when a person walks straight through a pane of glass in a lab coat. |
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| Please tell me someone in this household is doing something relatively normal. I already need a drink. |
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| Kayla's attending her prom, and her date is bitchy resting face. I'm sure they'll have a wonderful time. |
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| Rachel, what the hell is your damage? |
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| Who hates butterflies. I think your blood sugar is low. |
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| Yeah, getcha some leftover cake. One can always count on a fridge full of leftover cake. |
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| Eat quickly! Before Stanley grabs your thought cake! |
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| Wow, that was a quick prom. But at least you had grape in your pocket. |
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| Chowmp! So, how did it go? |
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| Yeah, this pose has been done before. C for effort. Your hands just aren't jazzy enough. |
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13 comments:
Better than my prom pic. I love the falafel chick. she's going to be my spirit animal today.
Oh my god, I'm still giggling over the civic center comment. Sometimes very strange muses make their way into my head and force me to write stuff like that.
I've got falafel all over my keyboard.
Me too. Any idea how to get rid of the stuff? Besides stop eating falafels in front of my computer? Because I can't, bro.
I'd like some falafel please, and cake too.
Maybe if someone dies at my Asylum, I can stick you in there and stuff you full of falafel and cake. Sounds fun, doesn't it.
(Actually, I could do it without someone dying, I'd just need a couple expressionless pictures [full front, partial side, profile] of your face to construct your Sim. You know my email.)
Whoever owns the airspace over the Arctic must be taken outside, removed of their clothing, and laughed at till the gathered mob pees themselves.
The slush in Dallas froze into an opaque slate. I find this that to be entirely unacceptable.
I'd say it's fucking cold here in Dallas...but fucking got out of town before this deep freeze hit.
Oh good...it works.
Mel and Pikey are in Texas. So am I.
Whoa, what do you mean someone could die in your Asylum? Like you created your own Clue? Whodunnit!?!
Vesta, I only control my own Sim, so if another Sim did something really stupid like set a fire and then stand in the middle of it, they could perish.
ANONYMOUS! Email me! Tell me what you're doing in Texas!!!
I emailed.
You must have used an ancient address? Try me at morleynico at gmail dot com. Then I'll make sure you have my regular hotmail address right.
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