Dream On, Freak

29 10 2016

Lately I have been contemplating getting back in to my blogging and also trying to finish a book I started a few years ago. This led to me having the following dream just now.

In it I found myself starring as the bumbling heroine of my very own Asian drama, wherein I was the zany but adorable 20-something Korean girl* and I was trying to be a writer. I started my first writing project by writing on the sides of clear plastic storage bins with a bic pen. A black bic pen. I even went so far as to try to snap a cool/funky photo of my contemplative reflection on the side of the first box while I wrote. The shot kept not coming out, so I eventually gave up. However, I had a great start to my writing on that container. Enter the object of my dream affections and me scrambling to hide my prose lest he see it and mock. In my ineptitude I manage to destroy all evidence of my writing, because of course I do..this is my drama! Next, I abandon the writing on plastic container scenario and decide only fruit skins will work for my writing and begin to peel about a billion oranges. Guess who makes a personal appearance while I am mid-peel? Yup…the Dream Man, and naturally this leads to a hilarious cliched scene involving squirted juice in my eye and me frantically trying to explain myself. After a stumbling and stuttering blurting out of my intentions vis a vis said fruit skins, Mr Hawt and Dreamy asks me why I do not value my work enough to write on something that is not trash.

Then I woke up.

I am sure there is a metaphor or a deeper meaning there somewhere and it’s not just my twisted brain…

*Let’s not forget that I am neither young, nor Korean…for some reason I am never myself in my dreams, but I am completely myself, if you get my meaning. Also, there was actually a lot more to the dream, all my dreams are convoluted and full feature films. I just can’t always remember exactly what happened except the bits right before I wake up. I do know that my dreams are always very vivid and realistic though.

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My Brain Really Is THAT Weird

28 01 2016

I am blogging this for posterity’s sake. Or to remind myself what a stone cold crazy person I really am. Something. So this is what made me get up at 7:30ish this morning, wondering wtf I had consumed the night before to cause such fuck-upedness.

I just had a dream where I was sitting on a bench in the middle of an ice skating rink, interviewing Lenin about a Prom…and I was wearing roller skates..and he was only answering in russian. In the background I could hear ‘to the window…to the wall…the sweat drips down my balls’ with a thumping beat. It was so ridiculous that I actually woke myself up.

Yup. That happened. And I was still a little frustrated from it like I was in the dream, because I don’t speak russian!





Manwich: A Sims 4 Story – Chapter 3, Going Drama Fishing Bites Me On The Arse

15 02 2015

Finally things are starting to get interesting…well, maybe not interesting but certainly not boring. The next day, the trash pile is still in the kitchen and once again some asshole decides to play in it:

Trashole

Also note the artifact particles left in and next to the sink from someone (Simone) washing dishes. I had to restart my game to make that shit go away. I was just glad they did go away as I had just installed a couple of new mods when it happened, one for faster eating and another that ensures your sims stay their same weight with no muscles or fat being added and I worried that one of them was queering things. I know that last one sounds boring, but it’s scary how fast a sim will put on weight be it from fat or muscle. Then it’s kind of a pain to get the fat off later…yeah, you can buy a potion with satisfaction points (earned by satisfying whims), but I’d rather use those for other, more permanent things.

One item of note is that SOMEONE finally made something other than fucking tofu dogs:

BurgersFinally

Thank you Tristan for grilling that platter of burgers. I have some reprieve from the nightmare inducing soy weenies.

Moving along, things began to heat up with Alistar & Simone. No longer were they merely engaging in empty flirting, one morning while they were both in the bathroom doing god knows what…

MorningAblutions

Alistair approached Simone with a proposition. Nope, he did not spontaneously propose…instead he asked her to get busy with him and at least he had bathed first. Let me state here that I have never had sims autonomously ask for woo hoo, I have always had them roll whims to do it and then I click accordingly. But I knew that with some of the mods I have this could happen, it just had not happened for me yet….until now. So Alistair asked Simone to make the beast with two sim backs with him, BUT he also wanted to try for a baby. I almost spit coffee at my monitor when I saw that. Yet another wild card I hadn’t thought of. But surely the risk wouldn’t be that high…would it? Would it? Hello? *crickets*

MaybeBaby

So yeah, that happened and afterwards they were both super proud of themselves and continued to be ridiculously flirty. Alistair immediately rolled a whim to ask Simone to be his girlfriend, a whim that Simone had had about him since the third time he flirted. Yeah, when she rolled her whim to make him her man, I pinned that shit knowing it would come in handy later. Despite my rule of not forcing them into anything, I figure that when they have similar whims it’s okay to go ahead and make it happen. So I did:

AskSteady1

“Yeah, so I totally like kissing you and stuff…wanna go steady?” Naturally she squealed like a baby pig, jumped up and down and accepted. Then they had to commemorate the occasion, (note the half eaten burger on the table behind them. He had interrupted her post coital snack to pop the question):

AskSteadyPhoto

Complete with awkward facial expressions. I love how her right leg is popped up there too.

In the Sims 4, you have the option, after a male & female sim have engaged in risky behavior, to allow the female to do a pregnancy test. I had Simone do this since I wasn’t sure if she would do it on her own. I know this kind of violates my rules, but I am really glad I did it. Sure enough, she was up the duff…the first time they had sex…ever. OF COURSE she was. This is what I get for adding in mods to spice things up. She was positively glowing with joy:

Pregnant

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but it seemed as though Simone’s tatas immediately looked larger as well:

BigTatas

Before long, she had changed clothes and POOF baby bump:

BabyBump

She puttered about doing various tasks all day while the boys were at work:

FakeSims

Even the sims in HER game have hot tubs…what’s up with no hot tubs for Sims 4, EA?

PregnantBartend

Even while practicing her bartending skills she cannot help but think of Alistair…

CleanAllThings

And then she proceeded to go on a tear, cleaning all of the things. We call this nesting in the real world, and it usually happens closer to the end of the pregnancy, but whatev.

In no time at all she was huge with Therin spawn and she was whining and bitching about it too:

SuckIt

Suck it up, princess! That’s what you get for not making Big Al wrap his simcock. Just as way of explanation to anyone not aware of the workings of the game, the thought bubbles above her profile pic are whims. Hers involve marrying Alistair (yes, she rolled that one pretty fast after discovering she had a bun in the oven) and leveling up her mixology skill (that one will probably have to go on the back burner for a good while). The boxed icons below are what is known as moodlets. Orange ones are negative and hers currently involve being hungry (due to eating for two) and rife with morning sickness courtesy of the parasite in her womb. Even eating while full of the future king or queen of Ferelden (ha ha ha!) and nauseated is a lip-wibble inducing task:

SadBurger

I would have summoned some sympathy, but she welcomed his loaded pistol.

Time passed, more flirts occurred, Alistair & Tristan became best friends…but still Alistair did not roll a whim to ask for Simone’s hand in happily wedded bliss. He did, however, ask to feel her baby bump which made me squee with all the emotion the pixel crush I have had for years (since DA:O) could afford:

ProudPapa

At one point they decided to go for a swim and have a serious talk:

AskfForCash

“Uh yeah…here’s the thing…can you like, ask your parents for cash? These bills are piling up and I am taking some vacation time to go skiing with my bros.” Or something to that effect. Please note how Simone rocks the huge belly with bikini look.

At long last the much awaited day arrived and while sitting on the toilet, Simone went into labor. Her reaction? No better time to take a nap. Alistair’s reaction was a little different:

AlistairLaborPanic

“AHHHHHHHHHH! Do I need to pack a bag? We don’t have a car!!! Should I grill chicken???” To his credit, he didn’t flip his shit for long and was back downstairs watching sports before she even woke. When she did wake up though, it was totally go time:

GiveBirth1

I cannot help but love the look on her face. Soon I was prompted to name the new addition, a baby boy. Odin Therin. The game wanted me to give him Simone’s last name, but I refused. Fuck that shit. Man’s going to own up to his child. Then, I was the one making the holy hell face. Another pop up hit my screen asking me to name the little girl Simone had just delivered. Fuck my sim life. Twins. I gave her the name of Maia Therin.

It took me a bit to find where the second baby had landed since I had only set up one bassinet. I could see two babies in the household list, but no clue where little Maia was. Then I found her, in the dining room with her mama:

MamaSimone

I am really glad I had thought to add an additional mod for smarter baby care after Simone fell pregnant. I think in the long run it will make things much easier. I also opted to turn aging back on for the game. I usually play with it suspended, but doing so now ensures the babies stay babies and NO ONE wants that. I now leave you with an ovary exploding shot…or at least it seemed that way to me. OMFG I cannot get over how adorable this is:

DaddyAlistair

*le sigh* heh heh heh. I also think I should mention that at no other time during the pregnancy did Alistair & Simone roll whims to make with the whoopie, with each other or in general. I think they might have learned their lesson. Maybe. I shudder to think what happens in the future. Also? Still no marriage whim from Alistair…





The One Where My Head Makes Me Really, Really Sad

29 01 2015

I inadvertently watched a Lifetime movie today. Okay, so it wasn’t completely by chance, I happened to see the movie on the Netflix and decided to watch it despite the sketchy name, and I continued to watch after I saw the Lifetime logo flash up. So yes, I bear full responsibility for choosing to continue viewing. I won’t go into details, but the movie ended up pissing me off and apparently coloring the dream I just had when I fell into an early evening nap.

The Dream

Imagine if you will, a woman and two children walking down a set of cement stairs on a college campus. One of the children, a girl of about 8, is carrying a baby. Suddenly, at the top of the stairs a group of 3 young men come careening around a corner and down the stairs, in a golf cart. The woman and children are bumped, and they fall down the stairs. The baby flies from the child’s arms and hits the stairs head first. Yeah, I know…it was really difficult for me to type that too, but this is what happened in my dream. So this is the first action that drives the plot of this head-movie, and I bet you are assuming that the rest involved how the driver of the golf cart was tried and convicted, with scenes of courtroom drama…but you would be wrong. No, because my brain apparently decided that was far too easy of a scenario. Nope, instead the woman walking with the children is vilified by everyone. She receives death threats constantly; people call her a horrible mother for making her 8 year old child carry a baby; she is viciously admonished for not having the baby in a carrier or stroller; experts are even called in to access the shoes the 8 year old was wearing, determining that they were too slippery to be worn on hard surfaces and that the mother should have known better. What does not happen, what no one ever addresses, is why the young men were driving so recklessly in an area that was clearly a potential hazard as well as a pedestrian only walkway…and no one ever says “That poor woman”.

I woke up soon after this, so I cannot tell you how things ended, but I thought it was an interesting view into my weird psyche. I don’t know if all the ridiculous misplaced outrage over things that seems prevalent in our society today is what made me think of this, or if it’s my rage at how some males in this world seem allowed to get away with almost anything. I am certainly not a man-hating feminist, so I doubt that is the seed of the dream and I am not a pro-life nut job who has channeled my anger about that into a metaphor for hating women who choose abortion. Yeah, I have no idea what processes my brainmeats went through to conjure such a thing, but it certainly made me angry enough to wake myself up and post this. Heh.





Wollycobbled Fizzbang

22 01 2015

Lately I have had this burning desire to write, however, I have absolutely nothing to say. So I looked up some writing prompts and found a few that sounded fun, but then my sloth genes took over and I failed at those. Okay, the Letter to a Loved One sounded promising but I didn’t feel like paddling down that river of sadness and so I am putting that one off for a few months. There are a few people I would really love to address such letters to, but again…river of sadness, me in a mesh canoe and a slotted paddle…not a pretty thing. I look terrible and even more so when I have been crying.

Moving on, I think I will just write whatever comes into my head. Just spew forth some mental vomit on the digital page. On second thought, no one wants to really see that. I realize that it seems like, in the past, I have willingly purged loads of my brain goo all over this blog, but rest assured, all of my cerebral musings have been carefully controlled. You really do not want to know what my brain can hurl towards your unsuspecting eyeballs at approximately 56 mph. Trust that it would make me look like a complete obsessive freak…no, really. More so than I already let on…it’s a bit scary, to be honest. As an example, let me post a conversation I just spewed at a good friend in an IM:

Me: no one wants to read a soliloquy on David Tennant’s ass…see? I should never speak
Me: I blame spouse…he wanted to watch all the episodes of Doctor Who before they take them off of netflix
Me: now we are out of the Tennant years though, so I think my obsessiveness can rest
Me: Matt Smith is just meh
Me: (shutting up now)

See what I mean? And please do note that this is all me rapid firing posts to him before he ever posts back. This happens frequently, but those who know me well accept it as one of my many, many foibles. Well, they accept it and probably mock me behind my back…which is fine, I am quite aware of how ridiculous I am.

I just thought of something to write about. Things I will admit/cop to:

I like Coldplay. I know, judge away, I care not…I really do like them. Hey, it’s not like they are Nickleback or something!

I don’t care what anyone thinks about me, the new gerber baby freaks me out. I have only seen the one photo, but it’s clutching its wee hands under its chin, looking right at the camera and smiling like a fucking cherub and it gives me the creeps. Pings that uncanny valley feeling in my mind and makes me shudder.

I really like McDonald’s fries and small cheeseburgers. The fries must be eaten fresh though, let them sit for a bit and they are ruined. The cheeseburgers must be eaten with no pickles or salt on the meat…yes, I piss off drive through people by ordering this way. I like pickles…like them quite a bit, actually…just not on a burger.

Okay, I lost my steam on that one. I am currently cooking while I write this and the constant stopping and checking on the soup made me lose my train of thought. Honestly, it doesn’t take much for that to happen these days. I forget what I am doing mere milliseconds after thinking it. My life largely consists of me wandering about trying to recall what I was in the process of doing when my brain apparently checked out to play hopscotch. Or two-square. I am not really sure what my brain is off doing but I am convinced it is some sort of Laura Ingalls-style recess game.

On another note, I am making a soup of various bits and pieces of produce that I had lying around and I am a bit worried that it will come off tasting like burnt radiator fluid. It certainly smells that way, but that’s probably because I cannot rid my hands of the smell of celeriac…which reeks like burnt radiator fluid to me. I have read many things about how celeric is a great sub for potatoes with less starch and more fiber, but I really hope the flavor is transformed as the smell while I was cutting it almost made me vomit. I really don’t like celery. I will cook with it, but it is not even in my top three least favorite foods. It ranks right down there with lima beans, canned peas and mackeral. My nightmare meal would be a trifle made of celery, lima beans, mackeral and canned peas…topped with chopped black licorice. Yes, I also abhor black licorice.

Getting back to my cooking, the soup was a lovely mix of potato, onion, kale, celeriac and fennel…tastes quite spiffy too. I am not sure I will make the exact thing again, but I was pleased to know that celeriac does indeed taste far better than it smells raw. With that, I am ceasing this useless prattle so I can shovel food in my gullet and I apologize for the useless drivel.

 





Smothered in the sympathy you bleed

21 01 2015

Yeah, the last two post titles have totally come from songs on Aztec Camera’s album High Land, Hard Rain. I am currently listening to it on repeat while I reread old blog entries like some sort of obsessive troll. I plan to keep writing/reading/listening until I get sleepy…only pausing to whisper-sing along with We Could Send Letters…I adore that song. This could take awhile.

I think I forgot to take my nightly meds and here it is 2:40 am. I am dithering about taking them now or just waiting until I wake up at 8:15 and downing them then. This is assuming I even sleep tonight. The meds I take are all for lowering my blood pressure as my failing kidneys cause it to jack high. I do not feel like my blood pressure is over the top right now though, even after a cup of fully leaded coffee, but I checked my pulse anyway. Of course the pulse I always check is on my left wrist and that is now forever tainted by my fistula. Fistula is such a gross word, I need to come up with a new name for the access vein a surgeon created in my wrist for future dialysis. When I say tainted I mean that the usual pulse point now sports a lovely inch long scar and no pulse can be felt there, but if I run my fingers about 3 millimeters to the left of it I get a buzzing sensation from the access vein. I think it’s ridiculously cool except when I am trying to sleep, have my hand & wrist resting on the cat and I can feel it buzzing against her fur. That is unsettling.

Back from a potty break (because yes, I do urinate!) and I have to mention that we subscribe to Popular Mechanics. We also leave all magazines in the bathroom, because Spouse likes to camp out there. Anyway, this month’s issue was sitting face up on the counter and I had to angrily turn it over…as I do every time I use the toilet these days. Why? Because Olivia fucking Munn is splayed all over the cover and fuck all if I am going to go about my bodily ablutions while she stares on. Fuck her. And honestly it’s not because I am ‘jealous’ at how ‘pretty’ she is or whatever. I am secure enough in my own wildebeestness that I don’t exactly feel that way about other women. No, she just annoys the ever living shit out of me. Now if it were Kristen Bell or Oliva Wilde I would be totally fine. Those two can watch me pee all damn day.

I just logged onto amazon to play some streaming music, but then was sidetracked with buying socks. I am not making this up. It took me 10 minutes and $16 to completely forget why I was there. My brain is seriously fucked these days. On that note, I think I need to end this and go channel my energy into playing Skyrim or something. I have to because this is rapidly becoming a complete clusterfuck of a post.





They bought the bullets and there’s no one left to shoot.

21 01 2015

Bizarreness happens all the time, all over the world. I love this aspect of life, love that I can be contemplating just how ordinary and boring my life is and then wham…I suddenly drive off a cliff and land in the forest of ridiculousness.

Take today, I was driving to an appointment, literally thinking about how utterly boring my life is – despite the voice in my head* reminding me of things I have done in the past that while they were not truly impressive, were far from mundane and banal – when I saw a smallish, sporty car whiz by on the highway with a vanity tag that said ‘boudoir’. This got the synapses firing on all cylinders. Boudoir…on a car…what could that mean? Did the driver live in their vehicle? Were they some kind of mobile prostitute? Perhaps it means something so completely esoteric that I would have to know the driver to understand it…although I really doubt it’s something that complex, given where I live. Still, a whole multitude of possibilities were cycling through my brain…there is a story there and I want to hear it. Well, maybe I don’t…I bet the real reason for that tag is not nearly as inventive as I can imagine.

Another bit of oddity that occurred today was I had no less than two people on two separate occasions ask me today if I urinated. Just like that…”do you urinate?”. I was honestly dumbfounded both times and it took me a few beats to splutter out a response because I couldn’t stop myself from thinking “As opposed to what? Excreting through my pores?”. Naturally I replied in the positive as I do, in fact, urinate…being a human and all that rot. The first time I was asked was on the phone at 8 am after being rudely awoken from a reeeeally good dream. I chalked that one up to my half-asleepedness and dodgy iPhone connection. But then later in the day someone from the same clinic asked it again…a different person even. This is a pre-anesthesia clinic, one I had visited last November before my wrist surgery, and was definitely not asked this question then. But today, two of them asked me. This made me wonder if there are some non-urinating humans out there who have some sort of medical condition that prevents them from urinating. I mean I even wondered for half a second after I was asked if perhaps they wondered if I had a urine collection bag or something, but even then I would still urinate, wouldn’t I? I also thought perhaps it was their way of asking if I could leave a urine sample, but then why not just say it and why two completely different people asking this same question. One day I will discover why. The nurse who asked me this then proceeded to stick me twice in an attempt to collect enough blood for testing, thus rendering my hand completely useless to the infusion clinic. The first stick she actually was fishing about in my vein in a vain (hahahaha, see what I did?) attempt to coax the blood out. When that failed is when she stuck me a second time. Oh the joy of that.

My iron infusion appointment after this went off without a hitch. Nothing strange there unless you count the tech having to stick the IV needle in my forearm thanks to the prior double stick.

Next, I stopped in the cafeteria after my infusion for a sketchy cheeseburger and fries. I knew I probably shouldn’t eat the cheeseburger, but the only sushi left was a chopped fake crab roll (blarfy-boring), the turkey that was on special looked revolting, the sandwich counter was closed, the salads all looked depressing and the fruit there always looks as though it has been used for playing nine pins. Somehow, to my starveling mind, a soggy steam table burger seemed just the ticket. The attendant threw (literally threw) the bun and burger together, added some special ‘grill sauce’ (whatever that is), slapped on some slices of tomato and wilted lettuce leaves, then at the last moment added some grilled mushrooms after asking me if I wanted them then piled some fries on the side. It was a sad looking affair, but the fries looked tasty. I knew I would be disappointed but did not have a chance to find out. Now this bit is not exactly bizarre, but more weirdly fitting for my day in general. I was making my way to a table, juggling my wallet, kindle, phone, keys and my drink in one hand while carrying my foam food container in the other. I don’t have large hands so this was quite the feat, let me tell you. A mere 2 or 3 feet away from my targeted table, the bottom half of my foam clamshell decided to bend and flip my entire burger onto the floor with a spectacular splootch sound. I might have said ‘Shit!’ loudly enough for it to ring through the mostly empty cafeteria, thus calling attention to myself. All 10 people in the room turned to look at me…some giving me death glares for daring to utter such a word. In my head I told them all to piss off. I huffily set my things down on the table and proceeded to clean up my mess, cursing under my breath the entire time. The fries were absolutely delicious though…so there’s that.

Exiting the hospital, I was nearly asphyxiated in the elevator by a woman who had clearly slept in a bath of perfume, allowing it to marinate into her skin…this is not a weird occurrence either, but also fitting for today. It was about 7:30 pm at this point and dark, but I had a wicked craving for a coffee so I pulled into a Wendy’s drive through on the way home. I perused their minuscule coffee menu, finally deciding on something called a skinny vanilla iced coffee, I figured it would at least be low fat and whatever. I was told by the man-child manning the drive through that “We don’t have iced coffees any more”. I assumed he meant they just did not sell them anymore, and found it odd since they were clearly listed on the menu. I expressed how weird I thought this was and then proceeded to order an English breakfast tea instead. I was then told “Well we don’t have breakfast anymore so we don’t have any hot tea either.” Riiight. So not a lick of hot water or tea bags anywhere in the store at all? I looked over the menu again to make sure I wasn’t wishfully imagining the words, but no…there they were listed, with no time restraints in sight. I thanked the clerk for his time after pointing out that they were on the menu and drove off. He apologized as I pulled away…me thinking ‘your pathetic sorry won’t get me a coffee though, will it’? It only occurred to me about 5 minutes down the road that maybe he meant that since breakfast hours were over they no longer were serving such things, and I guess I can understand that for the coffees, but tea? Really? Regardless, they were still listed on the menu and there was nothing saying they were only available during breakfast hours. This is also not an example of bizarreness exactly, but put with everything else, it made me feel like I am even more of an outsider than I like to think I am. I have been in deep hermit mode so long that ‘normal’ is something I no longer recognize…and quite frankly I am deeply relieved that I am so far from normal.

Except for the peeing…I am pleased to keep that bit.

*Lately, the voice in my head sounds like David Tennant. Probably because of all the Doctor Who and various other Tennant shows I have watched lately, and not because I am weirdly obsessed with him or something. *coughcough* But I find his delightful Scottish burr is far more soothing & pleasing than my usual brain-screeching. It also makes my more ridiculous ideas seem brilliant! If anyone who bothers to read my tripe ever thinks I was in any way sane, this would, of course, affirm that no…no I am not.