Sunday, July 31, 2011

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Friday, July 29, 2011

The misadventures


Sim-Me lives on the beach, where she enjoys fabulous vistas and the constant thunder of waves on the shore.


She enjoys them from her lean-to.


Her traits are Computer Whiz, Bookworm, Artistic, Grumpy, and Loner. I may have overestimated my artisticness a little, but I'd like to think of myself as artistic, so, yeah, you can just shut up.


Sim-Me does not have a job. Instead she spents her days picking up things she finds on the ground and then promptly sticking them back in the ground to see what will grow, and also trying to fish.



The operative word here is trying, as I apparently fail at it.


Her rather antiestablishmentarian lifestyle gives her quite a bit of free time, which she uses to paint...


...And write...


...And talk trash about people. I can only imagine what she's saying here. "I have this blog that may be read by as many as TWO people, and they agree that Stanley is a total loser!"

To the best of my recollection the pop-up actually said something like, "Did you know that Josef Heiter is filthy rich? I never would have guessed!" But seriously, Sim-Me is gossiping about a sim that I made to another sim that I made. Mind: blown.


Sim-Me entered an eating contest at the local diner to get some delicious, free greasy diner food. She didn't win, but she did walk away with an overfilled stomach.


She also visited some unknown band of morons at their home lot, and one of them immediately asked for her star sign.


I think that my expression sums up my reaction quite nicely! Thanks, self!


At one point she attempted to go running at the gym. By "running" I mean "slow walk" and by "attempted" I mean "she walked for two minutes before hopping off the treadmill and leaving." Sim-Me is so much like Real-Me that it's almost frightening.


Before Sim-Me had an outhouse with a shower, she had to make do with a tub in the yard. I'm sure the neighbors loved her. Fortunately, in Simland there are no public indecency laws.


...Why did you show up on my property at eight in the morning? Furthermore, why are you complaining that I'm smelly? I've been gardening since five, of course I stink! I was just about to take a bath!


He proceeded to hang around for the rest of the day, and since Sim-Me hadn't gotten her outhouse yet she couldn't take a bath. She kept trying to shoo him off, but every time she did he would stop what he was doing, stare at her confusedly for a while, and then not move. Sim-Me was upset and sad at first, but then she got angry and began to hurl what sounded like Simlish obscenities at him, which quickly became a roar of wordless fury. The whole thing was so entertaining that I let it go on well into the night.


Hum-de-dum, going to City Hall to register myself as an unemployed hippie is such fu--OH JOHN RINGO NO. Just ignore him, just ignore him, don't make eye contact and don't drink the water...


Ohdearlordhefollowedme. I just wanted to sell my subpar lettuce to an unsuspecting grocery store! Leave me alone!


GAH! I just wanted to use the restroom! What are you doing back here?!


Meeting new people, apparently. Please don't have a syringe hidden somewhere in your clothes. It will not be insulin.


So, uh, you're a surgeon who specializes in the separation of conjoined twins, huh? That's great. I'm sure it will never lead you to think about doing the opposite.


Well, it was nice chatting with you, but I've got to go and hide somewhere, um, I mean, get back to my painting. Yeah. pleasedon'thaveatranquilizergun.



"Feeed heeer."


The creepy encounters didn't stop with Heiter. Here Sim-Me is napping on a couch at the library, minding her own business.


Apparently this guy is a huge fan of Allegorical Dullness, because he could not get over to her fast enough after she woke up.




A few compliments and adoring looks later and I am beginning to wonder if I'm not playing Oblivion somehow.


It is not a comforting thought.

It rules over all the creeping things of the neighborhood, but it doesn't want to.


"Hello, world! I sure had a good night's sleep."


"Wait a's not morning, it's evening. And everything is purple. And my face has turned to pudding."

And lo, God said, "Let me make a sim in my image, after my likeness," and she did, and it was somewhat accurate*.

* Sim may not look accurate.

They were obviously meant to be together.



We're friends when we want something from you.


Remember this guy and his holey hair mesh? Of course you do! Our heroes remember him, too, and when they found out that he owns a home they had to go and see it for themselves.


By which I mean they ambushed him as he was leaving for the store.


"Hey, buddy, haven't seen you in a while! How've you been? Wait, don't answer that out here, we can go inside out of the sun while we catch up on old times!"


"We're not friends. We have never been friends. I suspect you've got an ulterior motive."


"But sure, come on in!"


Of course, once they were inside he dropped all pretext of wanting to socialize and went straight for the bedroom.


"Haha...what an idiot."


"I like your house. It's very, um...housey."


"It is, isn't it? I bought it with money, which is something I doubt you lot have ever seen."


"Hey, we've seen money. We have 27 dollars right now, as a matter of fact! It's in somebody's pocket somewhere."
"27 dollars? That's not even enough to buy my trash."


"The three of you disgust me. I want to take you all, put you in a rocket ship, and fire you off into the sun."

Okay, so that wasn't a very promising start.


They moved past the initial hostilities, though, and found some common ground in making funny faces. I don't know if they were mocking someone or what, but they seemed to enjoy themselves.


Good thing, too, as they needed to get along for Operation: Find A Sucker.


It went swimmingly. Some chatting, a few flirts, and the next thing you know she has a willing victim host. Either he didn't notice that she's just after his house or he didn't care. Probably he didn't care, since he's a manipulative, evil bastard himself.


"Aw, man. I guess we won't be getting married after all."


After departing the bathroom he finally noticed the elephant in the corner, or, rather, the homeless man in his bed.


He looked like he was on the verge of saying something. Ultimately, though, his response was identical to the hapless townie woman's:


Nothing to be done about it! I guess I'll just leave.


When Stanley woke up, well-rested and comfortable for the first time since I made him, he was quick to express his appreciation. I think that he's comparing a good night's rest to a unicorn here: magical, awe-inspiring, and completely nonexistent.


He then appeared to go into specifics of just what he enjoyed about the bed. I imagine that the list includes its softness, blankets, the fact that it has pillows, and its fresh, clean-smelling sheets.


Despite being recited in earnest, it didn't win him any points.


Oh, what, were you planning to sleep there? She's a romantic interest, it's a double bed, suck it up and deal with it.


That's better.


Left to his own devices, Stanley found the computer.


"This internet thing is great! It's two in the morning and I don't even care because I AM NEVER LEAVING IT."

I won't make the obvious Hyperbole and A Half reference since I've already used it in another post, but I'm kind of wishing I had saved it now.


Ten minutes later, their host awoke as the warm body next to him plummeted into red hygiene and began to stink.

You read that right. Her stench woke him up.


He was less than thrilled about it and unceremoniously gave them the boot. This time there were no neighbors to move in on.