I Play Sims (part33)

Folks, I love you.  But I'm going to be phoning this one in.  I have been distracted beyond belief lately and I just have not been able to buckle down and get this update written.  So, I'm captioning the pictures via the Euphemism Generator.  This will serve a couple purposes - the pictures will have words and I will not have to think of them.  It's pretty wonderful in my opinion.  I won't do this every time, promises.

Oh, it's Poppy's birthday already. Time really flies when you pay no attention whatsoever to something.

Where the hell is Rachel?

Well, that party's over.

I Play Sims (part34)
.

Bonus post! Nico has a dream.

I dreamed that I lived in a little person's apartment, where all of the counters were just up to mid-thigh, and my neighbor was some sort of ... frightening, fabulous gay guy who had a couple of ... young man slaves around, and he'd make them use a leaf blower to clear the path in front of him as he walked.  Sometimes he'd just walk around in circles to keep them busy.  I don't know why there were so many leaves around, especially on a second floor deck.  Anyway, I largely avoided this guy - he almost never spoke and when he did it was in a terrifying booming voice making one-word demands of his men servants.  Man servants?  Either way, they dressed like they lived at Hot Topic, so I'm sure you can see why I wanted to give that happy horseshit a wide berth.

But one day, the skinny neighbor used my apartment to make a phone call - because in my dreams, cell phones do not exist.  He'd been expecting good news, but had gotten very unpleasant news instead.  I decided this guy needed a hug, but he was a little hard to convince to sit still for it.  I tried pinning him down in a chair, like, "hey, just sit still ya jerk, this cuddle will fix everything!"  But he just persisted in his zagging, arms akimbo.  That sucker was pretty fast. 

This dream, to me, is proof positive that not only do I never dream about what I command my brain to dream, but also, I'm pretty effing starved for hugs (not to mention, desperately confused) if I'm considering pinning down the closest gay guy I can find.
.

Erotica

Yeah, you read that right.  But don't get too excited.  Several days ago, my best friend Bunny Walker asked me if I was writing erotica under the name N.T. Morley.  I was not.  But it later occurred to me that perhaps I could write sarcastic erotica.

Then I remembered that a lot of my readers are like, fifteen years old.  But I still needed a post this week, since my lazy ass hadn't prepared one!  What to do?

So, it's an erotic Mad Libs. A fauxrotic story.  Ahem.

-----

She had never ate quite this way before in her life.  Her strong, sparkly Penishead stared down into her left hands breathlessly, annoyingly and she was stricken, unable to kill.

He finally spoke, "Cut me."

She did.  It was manly and her eyeball plotted, pounding in her toe.

He spoke again, "Maul over. I want to see your pinky finger."

When he ran her, she gasped perfectly. "Holy crap!" she cried out.

"Do you eat that? Should I do it quickly?"

"Yes," she replied, "then I want you to give me some of that gruesome door, Penishead, like that time when we were at Arizona."

Penishead kept littering until he could litter no more.  They dazed, unsightly. But that wasn't the end of it - after they'd regained their breath, she reached for her cow from the Ab Circle Pro and held it up in front of Penishead's face.

"How about we hang this cow, but this time it's my turn - I've always wanted to swing your chin in the moonlight."

"That looks dizzy," he replied, fairily.

"It's not as dizzy as it looks and it feels frail. Trust me, you'll want me to hang you with it, all Goosesheherp gaggling."

"Alright, I'll peel it." he relented. "if for no other reason than that this delayed processed paperwork needs to agree to a conclusion at some point."

"There's more than five ways to count a bull," she winked.

"There sure is, Pet." Penishead enrolled.

.

Christmas Cookies!

I just want to be upfront about this and let you all know that I won't be serving cookies.  I am, however, accepting donations of cookies, which I may or may not share.

Rather than waste your time with explanations of why this isn't a Sims Legacy update, something wildly creative, or a new letter to an unsuspecting victi-test subject, I'll jump right into flicking pebbles directly into your eyes.

Scam spam, stale from the Sims 3 fan page:

-----

The other day, after everyone was in bed, I noticed something different on my fridge.

It's seems my husband had something to say to me, but didn't know how to broach the subject. Exactly what he was trying to say remains a mystery. Naturally, I felt compelled to reply.

I'll admit it - I had a hard time putting my feelings into words.  That night, after everyone was tucked all snuggly-buggly into their beds, I rushed to the kitchen.  He'd responded.

Oh, really? I see how it is. Don't worry, I didn't let him get away with it.

That shut him up. For now.

-----

Sometimes, people need help. Almost never, I have what they need. Observe:

With that, I bid you adieu. Click something.

.

The Experiment

Awhile back, I was reading this blog post, which was about how kooky it was that you could buy Royal Wedding commemorative cards.  I made an off-hand comment about how these cards could actually be put to good use: sending to strangers, along with a hand-written note talking absolute nonsense.

Almost no one loves nonsense more than me, so it only took about five minutes before I decided I absolutely had to have these cards and needed, desperately, to send them to people I do not know, perhaps with my blog address very quietly written somewhere on the back of the card, in the hopes that the person will either come here and laugh at how bored a person could possibly be, or yell at me for wasting three vexing, precious minutes of their life.

So, I've finally penned my first note to a stranger - it's already been mailed, but of course I scanned a copy of to share with you. My witnesses.  Here is my first of hopefully many Letters to Strangers.

Click for full-sized silliness.

But, that isn't all I have for you today. I've also brought you this:



You can find a creepier thing I'm sure, but not by much.

.

I Play Sims (part32)

Ah, shit!  The owner of the shack is home.  Stanley, hide!

Guys? I don't think that's how a Vulcan Mind Meld is done, exactly.

I Play Sims (part33)
.

Bridesmaids

Well, here we all are, about to read another one of my shitty movie summaries.  I'm finding it hard to muster up any type of feelings, in either direction, about this film.  I know almost everyone was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs about how freaking hysterical Bridesmaids was and how it was the work of a group of really funny women, but I gotta say - I don't really give a shit.  I'm not going to judge any movie based on it being  "funny, for a girl".  That's bullshit. 

So, here's another play-by-play - now, there will be spoilers, but really, even if you haven't seen it, you've seen it.  Trust me. We've all seen this, albeit perhaps with less fecal splatter.

*****

This flick jumps right in with both buttocks ... Ted (Jon Hamm) & Annie (Kristen Wiig) are having embarrassing sexual relations.  Afterwards, they decide through the powers of conversation that they're not in a relationship. This makes me want to turn around and punch myself in the ass.  She leaves, mercifully.  Why can't I?

Annie and her best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph - who looks like absolute rat shit anymore, what the hell) steal an aerobics class then eat lunch together, talking about how shitty men are with spinach in their teeth.

It seems that Annie's bakery business (CakeBaby) has failed and she now works in a jewelry store, yet when a young couple comes in to purchase an engagement ring, she heaps depressive abuse upon them.  I think she's confused - this isn't a Thanksgiving dinner, it's a place of business.

Lillian has become engaged and informs Annie in the most original way possible - by boring the shit out of me.  Then, Lillian offers Annie an apple and asks her to be her maid of honor.  Well, at least that was different.

Lillian's engagement party is mega frou-frou fancy.  The bridesmaids are: Rita (Wendy McLendon-Covey), Becca (Ellie Kemper), Megan (Melissa McCarthy), and Helen (Rose Byrne) - she's a horrible, fancy bitch. We really don't like her. Try to remember who everyone is, because I am not going to repeat myself unless I took too many muscle relaxers.

During the toast to the happy couple, Helen is claiming to be super best besties with Lillian. This won't do at all, since Lillian and Annie have been friends since childhood, so Annie is forced to publicly piss a circle around Lillian. Helen retaliates with her own stream by speaking Thai in an attempt to prove she is, indeed, a closer friend of the soon-to-be bride. Annie counters by speaking Spanish - something about a blue house and a school, I think. At this point, they're down to staring, which inevitably leads to singing. Dueting, actually - That's What Friends Are For.

On the way home from the party, Annie is pulled over and given a sobriety test by Officer Nathan Rhodes (Chris O'Dowd).  She chooses to prove her sobriety by performing a strange and almost distressing dance.  The adorable, accent-bearing cop doesn't give her a ticket for her broken tail lights.

Helen and Annie meet at a country club where Helen's stepchildren cheerfully abuse her.  Then they have another contest over who's a better friend to Lillian. Both of them win and lose concomitantly, is my decree. Then, Melanie Hutsell pukes onto the screen and I brace myself for impact. Seriously, just her face makes me want to harm myself.  There's a tennis doubles match, and they pelt Helen with tennis balls all slow-mo, ho.

The bridal party meets to go dress shopping. Annie takes the bridesmaids to a Hispanic restaurant of some description and attempts to plan the bridal shower and bachelorette party, but Grandiose Showyface & Annie are too busy waving their dicks all over the place, so nothing ever gets settled.  I know, I know - again, this isn't Thanksgiving dinner, y'all. 

The dress shop is unbelievably snooty, which is of course why everyone gets food poisoning at an unprecedented speed and severity. What follows is something I will not repeat, but I will say it was pretty funny, for a girl (not really, unless maybe you're my mother or Bunny Walker).

God dammit, Annie is having intercourse with that raging jackass Ted again! He refuses to attend Lillian's wedding with her, because he's made entirely of discarded foreskins.

Annie sees the charming cop again, but because she's too stupid to live, doesn't realize how great he is, even though they share carrots on the hood of his squad car.

Annie tries to convince everyone to go to a nice, reasonable lake house for the bachelorette party, but the bridesmaids don't want to do anything but Vegas.  Which is a really odd choice for Frilly McDebutante, but it seems like a plot point, so let's just go with it.

They board a plane en masse, which sounds like a crack about Melissa McCarthy's tush, but I'm way too tired for that type of shenanigan at this point.  Annie is terrified to fly, so Splendid McGrand-Blouse hands her some pills to make the whole ordeal go more smoothly.  Annie happens to be sitting next to someone who's even more freaked out, which really lifts her spirits ... not to mention, the highball glass of scotch has really helped the pills along, so Annie is now free to move about the cabin.

What happens next is a flustercluck of  "oh, come on." which makes less holy sense than a game of Mad Libs - suffice it to say it ends in them all being removed from the plane and never getting the chance to suck on their cockenballs lollipops or hop around in public on their air-filled phallus. Devil!

Since the mid-air debacle was clearly all Annie's fault, Lillian goes right ahead and puts that Richie Snobblehead in charge of her bridal shower.  How nice for her. 

Annie finally goes out on a date with the cute cop. In a phrase, she hits it and quits it.  Damn you for making me say that, movie.

At work, Annie gets fired for calling a teenager a cunt. Honestly, it's the best thing I've seen her do.

The bridal shower appears to be P-themed: pink lemonade, pony rides, puppy favors.  Sterling LeSpoonmouth gives Lillian a trip to Paris. A fucking trip to Paris.  Annie finally flips. Thank god. Lillian and Annie throw down, while the very angels cheer.

On her way home, Annie gets into a wreck (she hits a porcupine, how rare).  Her delightful cop friend arrives on the scene and yells about her tail lights.  It's at this point that she falls into levels of depression only fixable by Megan coming by with half a dozen party puppies to tell her to stop being an asshole, along with a montage of I'm-screwin'-my-head-on-right-and-no-one-is-tellin'-me-it-ain't scenes.  Ah, bless.

But what's this? The cop is no longer interested in her, and not even baked goods will change his mind.  It's okay, I think I've seen this movie already, I'm pretty sure it will all work out in the end.

Dainty von Sophisticate visits Annie because Lillian is missing.  They ask the handsome cop for help but first have to commit a series of inane crimes to get his attention.  They almost immediately discover that Lillian is actually just at her apartment.

Turns out Helen (I'm tapped out, y'all) made the wedding too expensive for Lillian's father to afford and now she realizes that this stupid wedding sucks without her bestest for reals best friend.  What a shock and just in the nick of time.  Let's get hitched before I fall into a coma.

Wilson fucking Phillips sings Hold On at the wedding.  They might as well, I suppose.

Annie gets the cop and I get the satisfaction of wasting my time somewhere other than the internet.  Until now.  Ah, shit.

.