Rainy Days and Mondays...
Another week of rainy weather here in New England, much to my chagrin.
I am a public transportation kinda gal, meaning I didn't bring my car when I moved up here and I take the bus to and from work. (I used to take the T when I lived in downtown Boston but as a suburbanite, I am limited to buses and/or walking.)
Taking the bus is a wonderful thing--except when it is raining. Then it is tedious, time-consuming, damp, hot, and uncomfortable. Overcoats, umbrellas dripping on seats and floors, the bus's overworked heater cranked up to the most impossible temperature, people crammed together, standing in the aisle... It's all a big mess. And I have a whole week of it to look forward to. Goody!
Rany's father left Saturday night none the wiser regarding our relationship. I didn't mess up once, meaning I didn't call Rany "honey" or "baby" and I didn't grab her ass when she was walking by (another unfortunate habit of mine). He was very sweet and kind to me when he was here and I got about 5 hours worth of playing Diablo II: Lord of Destruction in on Saturday morning, which was a nice little bonus for me as I usually don't get that much time to play on the weekends. Rany and her father were out shopping so I indulged.
I'm playing a Necromancer named Imhotep (I love the Mummy movies) and I just got past Duriel in Tal Rasha's Tomb (after dying about 45 times), which means I've just sailed East into the third act, also known as the jungle city of Kurast. I'm a level 20 Necromancer at this point which means that I can just about survive a boss monster without having to reclaim my body because I died. I don't usually play Necromancers. My class of choice is the Assassin (of course), with a trap-heavy specialty (particularly Wake of Fire which is one of the best skills ever given any of the characters).
I tried to explain my love of this game and the specifics of it to Rany last night and she listened for about 15 minutes before admitting she didn't understand a word I was saying. She prefers to play Civilization III, dominating whole worlds with her German war machine. LOL I like Civ too, but there's nothing better than Diablo II for some serious stress relief. You can both kill demons and monsters and shop for armor and weapons! (A standard chop n' shop.) It's the perfect combination for me. :)
I will actually swing back and forth between types of games. Sometimes the violence will get repetitive or boring and I will go back to the SIMS for a while. The SIMS is all about shopping and designing and crap like that. All of the pleasure of a chop n' shop without the chop.
I play the SIMS exclusively with female/female couples. It's most entertaining, especially after you have designed the perfect little lesbian home and you let the couple walk in. Usually my first order of business is to make the two women fall in love, which I have turned into an art form. It takes me less than 10 minutes to have them kissing. The order of orders goes something like this: talk, talk, talk, compliment, talk, talk, joke, compliment, talk, talk, give gift, joke, talk, compliment, give gift, talk, joke, flirt, talk, joke, talk, compliment, flirt, give backrub, talk, talk, flirt, give gift, give backrub, kiss.
When they kiss, I snap a photo as a keepsake. LOL
The SIMS is just a computer version of playing Barbies like I did when I was a kid. Boy, my mother had no idea what to do with me when I was a kid. My Barbie scenarios were a little too real, a little too sordid for a 6 through 9-year-old.
The scenario ususally went something like this:
Barbie and Ken lived in the Barbie Dream House with their young, crippled daughter (a little girl doll borrowed from the Sunshine Family set). The daughter was about 4 or 5 and her name varied depending on my preferences at the time but let's just call her Gwen (I remember using that name more than once). Gwen had been born with cerebral palsy (I was big on "illness of the week" movies on TV and in the late 70's many of these shows detailed the heartbreak of cerebral palsy).
Barbie was a stay at home mom and was also pregnant with her second child (the infant from the Sunshine Family set was waiting in the wings for the tension-filled birth scene). Ken, struggling with the guilt and shame of Gwen's illness, becomes a workaholic. Realizing that Barbie needs help at home, he arranges for an Eastern European woman to work for the family in a 7-year indentured servitude contract (really, he did. Why would I make that up?)
The servant, usually named Inga or something like that, was played by an off-brand Barbie doll that I had used in an experiment with scissors at a young age. She had shaggy, uneven hair and always wore an ugly brown dress that was most likely hand-sewed by my mother, who did things like that for my dolls. Inga was a very quiet, shy woman who adored Gwen and cared about what happened to Barbie but wasn't so strong of character that she would stand up to Ken, who routinely verbally and physically abused Barbie (apparently I was also into "women's issue of the week" movies that usually centered on domestic violence).
Ken worked for a big bank downtown and his secretary (played by a Princess Leia doll) was an amoral floosie who put the moves on Ken the moment he first complained about his life. Ken and Leia began an illicit affair that usually took place in Leia's apartment in the Barbie Townhouse.
Barbie became increasingly depressed as her pregnancy wore on and as Ken spent more an more time away from home. She suspected he was being unfaithful but she had no proof and she was too afraid to confront him. She poured all of her love and devotion into caring for Gwen and spent long hours confiding her fears to Inga, who listened with a heart filled with sadness for this mixed-up American family.
Eventually, Barbie found proof of Ken's affair (sometimes she would be out shopping and see them together, sometimes she would overhear Ken on the phone, and sometimes she would find a suspicious credit card receipt--yes, I was that specific) and discovered the identity of the other woman.
Discovering a will to fight for her family and husband, Barbie would confront Leia about the affair, threatening her if it continued. Leia always responded with a haughty laugh and slapped Barbie silly, knocking her down. Ken would usually burst onto the scene just as his floosie hit his wife and he would knock the bitch out, realizing what an ass he'd been and how horrible a person Leia was all in the few seconds he had to react.
The stress of the fall usually forced Barbie into labor a month early. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: Inga was always with Barbie when this happened.
Depending on Barbie's location at the time of the fall, Inga would guide Barbie to some sort of resting place (either her bed at home or the back seat of the car in the shopping center parking lot). Unable to summon help (for whatever reason--this also varied) Inga would deliver the baby herself (the baby always was a preemie who arrived breech and Inga would always perform an emergency cesarean section after determining that she couldn't get the baby turned around and that Barbie would bleed to death if she gave birth naturally). The baby was also always a boy.
Barbie and son would be rushed to the hospital, Leia would be arrested for assault, Ken would break down and tell Inga how much he loved his family, how sorry he was for all the pain he caused them, and how he was going to make it up to them.
Upon arriving at the hospital to find wife and son safe and stable, Ken would beg for Barbie's forgiveness (which was readily given) and would lift Gwen up in his arms and tell her how beautiful she was. After the tears were over, Ken usually turned to Inga and gave her her freedom in repayment for saving his wife and son. Inga would graciously accept the freedom and then ask to stay on with the family as she had grown to love them with her whole heart.
...insert vomiting sounds here...
Now depending on my mood, I might also add one or more of these sub-plots:
a. Leia kidnaps Gwen and threatens to kill her if Ken doesn't leave Barbie. Inga to the rescue.
b. The breech-born preemie has underdeveloped lungs at birth and must spend 38 days in an incubator before being allowed to come home.
c. Gwen takes a tumble down the stairs and is rushed to the hospital where she remains in a coma until her mother brings the new baby to her.
d. After Leia is given the brush-off by Ken (who has realized the error of his ways), she tries to kill him, shooting him once in the leg (or shoulder or stomach) before Inga leaps in front of him, taking the second bullet (usually in her chest, stomach, or head). She survives, but just barely and Ken frees her from indentured servitude and welcomes her into their home as a member of the family.
e. Gwen, feeling like her mother's unhapiness and her father's absence are entirely her fault, runs away. Inga finds her in the woods, near death, and rushes her to the hospital.
The moral of this story? DON'T LET CHILDREN UNDER 15 WATCH DAYTIME SOAP OPERAS OR MADE FOR TV MOVIES.
I am utterly sure that's where I got the majority of that crap.
LOL
Well, I'm off. Here's to reconciling plastic families and freeing indentured servants in ugly brown dresses...
I am a public transportation kinda gal, meaning I didn't bring my car when I moved up here and I take the bus to and from work. (I used to take the T when I lived in downtown Boston but as a suburbanite, I am limited to buses and/or walking.)
Taking the bus is a wonderful thing--except when it is raining. Then it is tedious, time-consuming, damp, hot, and uncomfortable. Overcoats, umbrellas dripping on seats and floors, the bus's overworked heater cranked up to the most impossible temperature, people crammed together, standing in the aisle... It's all a big mess. And I have a whole week of it to look forward to. Goody!
Rany's father left Saturday night none the wiser regarding our relationship. I didn't mess up once, meaning I didn't call Rany "honey" or "baby" and I didn't grab her ass when she was walking by (another unfortunate habit of mine). He was very sweet and kind to me when he was here and I got about 5 hours worth of playing Diablo II: Lord of Destruction in on Saturday morning, which was a nice little bonus for me as I usually don't get that much time to play on the weekends. Rany and her father were out shopping so I indulged.
I'm playing a Necromancer named Imhotep (I love the Mummy movies) and I just got past Duriel in Tal Rasha's Tomb (after dying about 45 times), which means I've just sailed East into the third act, also known as the jungle city of Kurast. I'm a level 20 Necromancer at this point which means that I can just about survive a boss monster without having to reclaim my body because I died. I don't usually play Necromancers. My class of choice is the Assassin (of course), with a trap-heavy specialty (particularly Wake of Fire which is one of the best skills ever given any of the characters).
I tried to explain my love of this game and the specifics of it to Rany last night and she listened for about 15 minutes before admitting she didn't understand a word I was saying. She prefers to play Civilization III, dominating whole worlds with her German war machine. LOL I like Civ too, but there's nothing better than Diablo II for some serious stress relief. You can both kill demons and monsters and shop for armor and weapons! (A standard chop n' shop.) It's the perfect combination for me. :)
I will actually swing back and forth between types of games. Sometimes the violence will get repetitive or boring and I will go back to the SIMS for a while. The SIMS is all about shopping and designing and crap like that. All of the pleasure of a chop n' shop without the chop.
I play the SIMS exclusively with female/female couples. It's most entertaining, especially after you have designed the perfect little lesbian home and you let the couple walk in. Usually my first order of business is to make the two women fall in love, which I have turned into an art form. It takes me less than 10 minutes to have them kissing. The order of orders goes something like this: talk, talk, talk, compliment, talk, talk, joke, compliment, talk, talk, give gift, joke, talk, compliment, give gift, talk, joke, flirt, talk, joke, talk, compliment, flirt, give backrub, talk, talk, flirt, give gift, give backrub, kiss.
When they kiss, I snap a photo as a keepsake. LOL
The SIMS is just a computer version of playing Barbies like I did when I was a kid. Boy, my mother had no idea what to do with me when I was a kid. My Barbie scenarios were a little too real, a little too sordid for a 6 through 9-year-old.
The scenario ususally went something like this:
Barbie and Ken lived in the Barbie Dream House with their young, crippled daughter (a little girl doll borrowed from the Sunshine Family set). The daughter was about 4 or 5 and her name varied depending on my preferences at the time but let's just call her Gwen (I remember using that name more than once). Gwen had been born with cerebral palsy (I was big on "illness of the week" movies on TV and in the late 70's many of these shows detailed the heartbreak of cerebral palsy).
Barbie was a stay at home mom and was also pregnant with her second child (the infant from the Sunshine Family set was waiting in the wings for the tension-filled birth scene). Ken, struggling with the guilt and shame of Gwen's illness, becomes a workaholic. Realizing that Barbie needs help at home, he arranges for an Eastern European woman to work for the family in a 7-year indentured servitude contract (really, he did. Why would I make that up?)
The servant, usually named Inga or something like that, was played by an off-brand Barbie doll that I had used in an experiment with scissors at a young age. She had shaggy, uneven hair and always wore an ugly brown dress that was most likely hand-sewed by my mother, who did things like that for my dolls. Inga was a very quiet, shy woman who adored Gwen and cared about what happened to Barbie but wasn't so strong of character that she would stand up to Ken, who routinely verbally and physically abused Barbie (apparently I was also into "women's issue of the week" movies that usually centered on domestic violence).
Ken worked for a big bank downtown and his secretary (played by a Princess Leia doll) was an amoral floosie who put the moves on Ken the moment he first complained about his life. Ken and Leia began an illicit affair that usually took place in Leia's apartment in the Barbie Townhouse.
Barbie became increasingly depressed as her pregnancy wore on and as Ken spent more an more time away from home. She suspected he was being unfaithful but she had no proof and she was too afraid to confront him. She poured all of her love and devotion into caring for Gwen and spent long hours confiding her fears to Inga, who listened with a heart filled with sadness for this mixed-up American family.
Eventually, Barbie found proof of Ken's affair (sometimes she would be out shopping and see them together, sometimes she would overhear Ken on the phone, and sometimes she would find a suspicious credit card receipt--yes, I was that specific) and discovered the identity of the other woman.
Discovering a will to fight for her family and husband, Barbie would confront Leia about the affair, threatening her if it continued. Leia always responded with a haughty laugh and slapped Barbie silly, knocking her down. Ken would usually burst onto the scene just as his floosie hit his wife and he would knock the bitch out, realizing what an ass he'd been and how horrible a person Leia was all in the few seconds he had to react.
The stress of the fall usually forced Barbie into labor a month early. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: Inga was always with Barbie when this happened.
Depending on Barbie's location at the time of the fall, Inga would guide Barbie to some sort of resting place (either her bed at home or the back seat of the car in the shopping center parking lot). Unable to summon help (for whatever reason--this also varied) Inga would deliver the baby herself (the baby always was a preemie who arrived breech and Inga would always perform an emergency cesarean section after determining that she couldn't get the baby turned around and that Barbie would bleed to death if she gave birth naturally). The baby was also always a boy.
Barbie and son would be rushed to the hospital, Leia would be arrested for assault, Ken would break down and tell Inga how much he loved his family, how sorry he was for all the pain he caused them, and how he was going to make it up to them.
Upon arriving at the hospital to find wife and son safe and stable, Ken would beg for Barbie's forgiveness (which was readily given) and would lift Gwen up in his arms and tell her how beautiful she was. After the tears were over, Ken usually turned to Inga and gave her her freedom in repayment for saving his wife and son. Inga would graciously accept the freedom and then ask to stay on with the family as she had grown to love them with her whole heart.
...insert vomiting sounds here...
Now depending on my mood, I might also add one or more of these sub-plots:
a. Leia kidnaps Gwen and threatens to kill her if Ken doesn't leave Barbie. Inga to the rescue.
b. The breech-born preemie has underdeveloped lungs at birth and must spend 38 days in an incubator before being allowed to come home.
c. Gwen takes a tumble down the stairs and is rushed to the hospital where she remains in a coma until her mother brings the new baby to her.
d. After Leia is given the brush-off by Ken (who has realized the error of his ways), she tries to kill him, shooting him once in the leg (or shoulder or stomach) before Inga leaps in front of him, taking the second bullet (usually in her chest, stomach, or head). She survives, but just barely and Ken frees her from indentured servitude and welcomes her into their home as a member of the family.
e. Gwen, feeling like her mother's unhapiness and her father's absence are entirely her fault, runs away. Inga finds her in the woods, near death, and rushes her to the hospital.
The moral of this story? DON'T LET CHILDREN UNDER 15 WATCH DAYTIME SOAP OPERAS OR MADE FOR TV MOVIES.
I am utterly sure that's where I got the majority of that crap.
LOL
Well, I'm off. Here's to reconciling plastic families and freeing indentured servants in ugly brown dresses...
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