I'd tapas that.

Let's get the hell started. Oh, wait - before we flop in with both arms, for those of you with a feverish hankering for Little Miss Mae, do click hereabouts.

Since one can never get enough of themselves making sarcasms at those tender souls who just can't resist the allure of free credits, here's the crap I say almost solely for my own amusement.

*****

More of this happy horse shit (thank gorsh this is the last batch):

I tripped over this link and almost broke my ankle. You know, if you kids don't start cleaning up after yourself, I may just have to stop caring. Eh, forget it. Throw stuff where ever you want. I'll probably be passed out under the pile that's moving a little. Don't wake mommy up.

I've got a huge spider trapped under a bowl. I've left a note for my husband with instructions on where to find this bowl, along with a request to kill it. What's the moral in this story? Don't crawl around on my living room floor when I'm not wearing socks. Four eels.

Guaranteed 100% Tatum O'Neal free since 2010!
I know, I should really add some Tatum O'Neal to my blog, she's as cute as bundle of puppies, singing gangsta rap.

Do you smell that? I think something's burning. In my blog. Be a dear and check on it for me, I'm not wearing socks and there's a whole procedure for bloggery when I'm sockless (trust me, you DON'T want to know). It's just easier this way.

The Grievances blog - now, and always, 100% grid-free and walls UP. Why? Because I CARE.

If you read this, I promise that a band of roving hobos won't begin camping out in your back yard, re-naming the space "Hoboton" or raiding your pantry for pork and beans and throwing a fit when there isn't any.  Although there is a SMALL chance you'll get a rash.

*****

Here are a couple screen caps I gathered from nowhere near the Sims 3 Facebook fan page:

*****

Here's some of the conversations I have without the aid of an invention:

Me (to my stomach): Don't get gas.
Eldest Child (age 3): Don't get gas.  Don't get gas.
Me: You're gas.
EC: You're gas.
Me: No, you're gas.
EC: You're gas.
Me: Your mama.
EC: Mama's gassin'.

Eldest Child: I can spit to Tijuana. (I'm 85% sure this is what he said.)

Husband: This just in: high-fives can give you cancer.

Me: Oh my god. Gina wants to be named after one of Bunny's chickens.
Him: What's the name?
Me: Gina, I guess.
Him: Wait ... what?
Me: Gina wants to be named after one of--no. She wants Bunny to name one of her chickens after her.
Him: Oh.
Me: Does that make sense?
Him: Neither version surprises me ... if Bunny had a chicken named Miss Cluckins.

Me: I haven't had any stomach cramps today at all.
Him: Mmm.
(three seconds pass)
Me: (in reference to something on tv) Reminds me of Pee-Wee.
Him: What?!
Me: Pee-Wee ... like Pee-Wee's Big Adventure ... like when he was in the dark and it was just his eyes looking around.
Him: Oh!  I thought you were talking about your poop.

*****

Finally, a couple of these.

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Mae I please have your attention?

Ever since my run-in with Mae on the Sims 3 Facebook fan page, people have been sending me screen caps of the extremely vital things she posts there.  They range from the indignant to the passive-aggressive to information only a stalker could love.

Of course it is. *nods*

I've gotta give Amy - The Sims 3 a few internets for holding down the snark fort in my absence.
Thumbs way, way up.

Now, what could our Mae possibly say next?

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The Mae Incident

I hadn't been spending as much time on the Sims 3 fan page as I had in the past, but I had been seeing several of my friends talking about a few people who had been posting often on the page getting on their nerves. In particular there was this girl named Mae, who relentlessly informed the page about every minutiae of her comings and goings, often bidding the group adieu while taking several hours to actually leave.

I wasn't able to screen cap our very first exchange of words, because she deleted it before I realized she had an itchy deletion finger and a raging case of the crazies. But it went a little something like this (my words are nearly verbatim, hers paraphrased sarcastically):

Mae: Hey everyone, I'm not going to be able to be online as long as usual tonight, so I just wanted to leave everyone the link to my page that I spam on this page every day, several times a day, to hold you over until my return.
Me: Why are you so concerned about everyone surviving without your presence?
Mae: Honey, I'm not concerned, I do this every day, just so you know.
Me: You do what every day, sugarcube?

If she replied, I didn't see it, because the entire thing was swiftly deleted. Don't you hate that shit? But she wasn't able to stay away for more than a moment - she posts her page link again:

At this point, Mae blocks me. Unfortunately for her, you can't block pages.  She posts again:

Then, promptly deletes it.  She is not happy at me right now, to say the least.  Another post (I've edited out a few replies here and there from other Sims 3 fans, for the sake of brevity) where Mae dictates how we're all to behave:

Boom. Also quickly deleted. Mae clearly has some control issues, and can not properly say goodbye unless and until it is done entirely on her terms. She posts thrice more:

I couldn't resist. I'm only human. If you were there, you'd almost swear you could actually hear the cogs and gears of her mind sproing right out the top her head. Again, the post disappears. She quickly posts this non-sequitur on someone else's wall post, then posts her own plea to the rest of the Sims 3 fans to protect her from me:

What follows are some of the responses to that plea, along with Mae's insistence that I'm harassing her to within an inch of her sanity and needs everyone else to help her report my page (click to enlarge):

Meanwhile, the last thing I've said to her is "sleep well". At this point, I go to bed - but according to Mae, I'm still working a dastardly plan:

That's it, in a giant rolling nutball.
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