I Play Sims (part71)

The new paperboy in this neighborhood is probably deranged. He walks the paper right
up to the front door, then takes it back down the stairs to the side yard ...

... where he either has his mind way, way blown, or he practices his melismatic
runs for his a cappella group that's gonna make it big one day.

No, Stanley! Don't do it, you're being watched.

Okay, fine - but just a small nibble.

Frida and Rachel have always had a ... unique relationship.

Today we find them greeting each other with a friendly, yet somber closed-fist breast bonking.

Then, of course, a duet. It's going to take forever, though - it's Paradise By The Dashboard Light.

By finishing with a snort, Rachel shows not only appreciation for Frida's vocalizations, but also her three favorite teeth.

Now, give your pal a goodbye sniff and get back to holding your spoon awkwardly.

I just love the stuff you make with your dusty batter.

Other than tasting babies, Stanley hasn't been up to much.
Although, he did stand next to his nephew while not talking about vegetables.

And he's gotten himself involved in a few clusters.

But mostly, he likes to sleep, perchance to dream ... about frying up a batch of baby formula soda.

Stanley's not the only one enjoying le snooze. Rachel's become an expert napper.

Charlie? He wants to twist the head off of your childhood.

Suri ... is just being Suri

"Still got it."

As for Poppy, my guess is that she's having a challenging time accepting her new style

It's the only reason I can see for getting into her formal wear to pout at the piano ...

... or stare hatefully at the shower, who never did anything to her.

Put down that damned book, Poppy - you've got a date! And you're definitely dressed
for just standing in a random place with some chucklehead with a weird tattoo.

Gah! I hope that doesn't muss your hair.

The date just started and he's already thinking about having a musical seizure.

"I have a song stuck in my head. Have you heard it?"

Hold up. Pump the brakes - did he just tell you that your breasts are like twin little dippers?

Yeah, you go ahead and give that turkey a good chewin'.
Then get your butt home - you will not believe what is happening there.

This is the absolute worst thing to come home to. Some dumb brown bear meditating in front of your art.

Charlie, this is no time for your shock operas. Things have gotten desperately real.

Suri, would like to share with us what's more interesting than your brother going to the great beyond?

This is the saddest screenshot I've taken in the 3+ years I've been playing this family.

Just like that, it's over. Frida looks like she's in denial. Unfortunately, death isn't done with them.

*sigh* I guess at least she's going in a pretty dress.

I know, Frida, I know. Your two best friends, within minutes.

Goodbye, Rachel.

The End.

~~~~~

After the death of Stanley and Rachel, I decided it was time to end the Rosenzweig story. I already felt as though I was wearing thin on things to write about them, and I didn't want to just keep stretching it out until it was absolute garbage. The game chose for me when to end, since I have never influenced death, except for the times I forgot I left death flowers in Rachel's and Stanley's inventories.

I have had an endless amount of fun writing this story. It felt like a job sometimes, but mostly it kept me sane. From the start, I've enjoyed every single person who read it and told me what they thought about it. Any person reading this story, or any part of my blog - even if you haven't made your presence known, has helped keep me sane.

I'll continue writing the Asylum story, which admittedly, may only be interesting to the people in the Asylum, but I have been working on a new project, which you'll see here soon. Hopefully, if I can make it funny.

Thanks for reading.

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Gentlemen Broncos

"Together, we will learn to love, you gorgeous hag, you ... freak machine."

Let's get started. It's Gentlemen Broncos, and you have my best friend Bunny Walker to thank for my knowledge of this film.

This story begins with a boy - a writer named Benjamin Purvis (Michael Angarano) - who lives with his home-schooling mother Judith (Jennifer Coolidge) in a geodesic dome that's stuffed to the vertices with intense levels of quirk.

First order of business is Cletus Fest - a fantasy writer's convention that I would attend just for the possibility of getting a little mussed up by some second-hand unself-conscious and earnest absurdity.

On the way there, Benjamin meets Tabatha (Halley Feiffer), a sexual deviant with a penchant for ill-begotten snacks and the raw sexuality of someone trying not to shit their pants while watching someone else shit their pants.

Don't fall in love, boys, she'll only crush your soul.

Also along for the ride is Tabatha's side-kick Lonnie Donaho (Héctor Jiménez) an amateur film maker who never does anything without every one of his teeth involved and sports a permanent demeanor of one experiencing some sort of pleasurable agony.
 

Ill-begotten snack breath.

Needless to say, this was not your mother's bus ride to a festival.

Or maybe it was. I don't judge.

Speaking at the convention is the object of so many fantasy nerd's admiration and/or dirty daydreams, Ronald Chevalier (Jemaine Clement). He has the sort of silky, sensuous and so serious deep voice that only a man who continually wears a Bluetooth, but never ever uses, can rock with a steadiness that makes my thighs very weak. My calves are doing great, though, so no biggie.

He will go with Traginus. Every time.

Chevalier is judging a writing contest, and (ceremoniously, actually) decides to plagiarize Benjamin's novella Yeast Lords. What's the story about, you ask? Yeast, mostly. *nods*

Bronco (Sam Rockwell) is the last of the yeast lords - the enemy has purloined all of his yeast and borrowed one of his gonads for military-strengthening research ...

You know what, I don't want to ruin the whole thing for you.

Chevalier decides to make a few changes to the original story - most notably re-naming Bronco and turning him into the gayest version of Edgar Winter allowed by god's law, before publishing it under a new name, Brutus and Balzaak.

Balzaak. I get it.

In the meantime, Lonnie Donaho is shooting his version of Yeast Lords for the big screen. You know, the one on 4th or whatever - thus turning this movie into three yeast cake-filled movies within a movie.

If all these versions leave you stressed out enough to give birth to a litter of troll cubs, just grab
someone you care about and blow on some friendship stones. It'll soothe your nerves.

This is one of those films you're either going to love or loathe. I've seen it three times now, and have decided that's probably enough, unless someone sends me some special cookies to eat for a fourth viewing. *clears throat*

The ending is slightly predictable, in that some people fly off toward the horizon on battle stags.

It's a happy conclusion.

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I Play Sims Asylum (part10)

Aww, just a couple of besties, heading to see their fish friends together. Great way to start the day.

Unlike Greg's plan, which is to drink a whole tray of coffees for breakfast.

As you'd suspect, it puts him in a certain kind of mood ... about fish.

His temperament just rubs off on everyone else, causing Eve to launch into a punitive rant about her favorite beast.

Her raucous speech encourages Husbro to grumble at Rev about dishes.

This really only loops back and encourages Greg to start up again, with Statler and Waldorf-style commentary.

Which he should know better than to attempt at such an early hour, as the exertion always gets him.

The resulting schadenfreude only riles Husbro again - this time, he turns his attention to letting me know his true feelings.

Then just starts gnawing on my favorite shoulder.

I leave. Nobody has time to be all chomped up on when there's always standing in another place to do.

Besides, it's time to get into bathing suits and accept some physical abuse from my best friend Bunny Walker.

Aww, don't cry, Arthur Derrick - grilling is hard. I just don't understand why you grilled the buns, too.

Cory, I'm sure it's a bad idea to find the biggest bowl of something burnt and covered in flies to have for dinner.

Rev took one look at her bowl and dropped it immediately on the floor.

I think it's time to finally test out this makeover station. Husbro, what are you staring at?

For that matter, what am I staring at.

Oh dear. What have I done?

Why do I want someone to feed me a dirty tin can? What's happening here?

They must be adjusting our medications again.

I'm so wrapped up in my dirty cans, I haven't even noticed that Cory isn't around anymore.

Or that there's a new guy outside - some sort of octopus enthusiast - wearing both a baseball cap and a crown.

Arthur Derrick's noticed him, though.

He can't be that bad, Arthur Derrick. That crown is rather zazzy.

Welcome, Lord Sweets. Good luck with everything.

There's a lot of this going on, for example.

Okay, well, there's no rule that says you have to dance. Just try not to pass out in a pool of your own urine.

Fine then, go ahead and piss yourself. It's your funeral.

(You might remember "Lord Sweets" from such things as being my friend Clayton, as well as looking like Khloe Kardashian when I put him in a Drita D'avanzo wig. He's obviously very tolerant of my nonsense.)


I Play Sims Asylum (part11)
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