Simbation

2010 Books: "Wetlands" by Charlotte Roche

Tue, 05 Jan 2010 13:48:25 GMT

In my usual catch as catch can style, I'm going to offer some reviews (if you will) of books I received for christmas (for the record I give my in-laws a list of books to buy for me--it's easy shopping for them and good results for me).

My list this year was culled from both Bust and Bitch book reviews (Bust and Bitch--two musts when it comes to magazines, by the way).

Also, if you're interested I've discovered Good Reads, where you can keep track of the books you've read and give them little reviews and star ratings.  It's fun diversion.

SO, about "Wetlands" by Charlotte Roche.

"Wetlands" is billed as a shock piece but also (by the two magazine sources listed above) as some big feminist statement.

It is a shock piece. The title character Helen literally lets it all hang out. Boogers, blood, shit, and her bare surgerized asshole.  Yeah, Helen's whole story unfolds as she's recovering from anal surgery.  There is no topic Helen won't discuss and it seems there is no wild experience Helen hasn't had (including but not limited to drug use, tampon swapping, and being shaved--yes, THAT way--by a stranger she meets at her job). And she's only 18!

But she's not merely an out there barely legal gal shocking any and everyone she can find with her out there antics and takes on life. She's ALSO a poor little neglected girl with family issues that may or may not be a way to explain why she is the way she is. And she's fully aware of it.

To that end, Helen can be a bit. . .TOO. I got tired of her constantly trying to outdo herself in the ick factor and really didn't care about her family issues. Helen never really became a full character. And I don't really care that she didn't. Much like the smears and splatters she leaves in her wake, Helen's tale is like a dirty mark on a clean surface. I can choose to wipe her away or ignore it and let it crust over.

As for the feminist statement it's less a big middle finger to the patriarchy and more a foot stamping tantrum from a spoiled brat (who takes great pleasure in maintaining a secret stash of boogers dried to their bedroom wall). There's nothing new here. We've all heard comedians like Lisa Lampanelli and Sara Silverman try and rock the boat by opening their mouths to reveal gutters of gross (among other things). "Telling it like it is" is hardly anything new. But it is a tried and true way to make money by selling books.

Overall "Wetlands" is like that one friend/acquaintance you always seem to have around at the right time. They get you through some boring period of your day with their wild stories but you really don't believe much of what they say and can't take them in large doses.

RATING: Get it from the library. If you do own it, treat it like a booger and pass it on to that one friend you have who just loves a good poop/fart story.

Is this a bad omen?

Mon, 04 Jan 2010 13:09:52 GMT

6 a.m.

It's still dark out and the city has been coated in a fluffy layer of new snow.

I lock my house, slip my keys into my bag and tug on my glittens (glove/mitten hybrids) and cautiously descend my porch steps all while thinking "it's not that cold but it's good to wear the glittens just in case I. . ."

Slipping.

Sliding.

FALLING!!

Yes, the glittens kept my fingers from plunging into the snow and freezing. And, despite the early hour, the first thing I did upon finding myself ass first on my sidewalk (yes, only three steps from my house) was look around to see if anyone had witnessed my fall. Who did I think would be out at that hour? (really, I thought maybe He of the Perpetual Garage Sale--my neighbor across the street--might be on the prowl, hopefully not clad only in his tighty whities due to the inclimate weather).

What a way to start my first Monday back to work after my lovely week long vacation (a vacation that doesn't come out of my accrued time, either--gotta love that extra time off).

This will NOT set the theme for my day. (despite getting to my desk and realizing there is some odd crystaline crust on the laces of the shoes I brought to change into--I really don't want to know what it is but it did make tieing my shoes more difficult).

Random Sims: What have I been up to (sims-wise)?

Thu, 31 Dec 2009 19:06:03 GMT

It's no secret that I've pretty much turned by back on my sim stories and all assorted works in progress as of late. It's not that I hate them it's more that I just don't really CARE like I used to. Really, it's like I've come full circle with sims in general. Way back in the day I never made stories or posted pictures or any of that. I just played and that was that (until I started chattering about my families on the sims2 official site, those blogs they had there). My sims obsession morphed into the craziness found here with all the stories and such and then, kind of like a great big zit, it popped and now I'm left back where I started.

Just playing.

But I still have the itch to post random pics here and there because you folks are the only ones who can appreciate that side of this game (the desire to share--lord knows my wife doesn't get it though he is still amused, after all these years, by my "simbation").

SO, I received the Ikea stuff pack for christmas (from my sister who scored it, new, for only $5--double bonus there) and that's what got me back into the game (really, I hadn't even fired it up for at least a week, probably longer). Did I go into my BACC neighborhood and get back into the swing of things?

Of course not.

I went into Riverblossom (?--is that the name--I forget now, but the neighborhood that comes with Seasons) and started what will always be my favorite challenge.

Poverty Challenge.

With a sim that in all this time I've NEVER bred. Yes, that's Mother XYZ.

I took a few liberties with the Poverty Challenge rules and allowed my fair founder to earn a living doing the world's oldest profession. Fishing (both for the animals and for men). So she could sell off any rewards acquired from dates. But she only netted two gifts (out of about 10 dream dates) to the tune of a meager $5000 or so. I hadn't planned to sell off the date flowers until a thief robbed the family (yes, they were robbed when they only had THREE walls on their shack--really, who robs people who live in a hovel, I ask you?).

Don't fret this isn't going to be a full on story or anything. Just some quick spam of some goofy looking spawn Mia Dinero (aka Mother XYZ) produced.

Ahh, the eldest. The lovely Joya Dinero. She was sired by Apartment Life townie, Christian Love (elder guy with a pony tail--romance).

It wasn't until after her siblings were born that I decided this would be a matriarchy. So Joya, as eldest and female, was auto-heiress. That meant no job, no university, and NO spouse (yup, I'm going for the old maid bonus points). But, she could fish (in both senses of the word--though she's knowledge so not prone to throwing "go on date" wants) and farm. BUT, the family is only allowed two plots for each available crop (and only two per crop). So it's slow going.

Also, no jobs for anyone in the household. But in turn, the teens could dig for treasure only until they found a treasure chest. Of course, Joya dug one up right away, so that closed that revenue source down.

But she had brothers.

Many brothers (none of whom dug up a treasure chest).

As winter was closing in on the family and I had JUST managed to secure them a fourth wall, Mia hatched triplets.

Felix and Finnian (discussing how they managed to get their father's nose--their father is townie Sinjin forgothislastname)

Ahh, Felix, romance minded like his dear mother (with popularity undertones). And now that he's an adult (and living outside the household) he's being nearly attacked by the ultra horny old lady tag team of Betty and The Other One (again, I'm failing with names) who showed up in the welcome wagon and took turns swooning over Felix and attempting to break their hips by crouching to snuffle in the flowers (and present their giant old woman rumps to him, I'm sure).

Finnian Dinero, family sim (with an undertone of romance).

I am quite pleased by all the triplets. Finnian has proven to be very sweet, causing me to aww, especially when I saw this:

Autonomous cuddling on the ground. I see this very rarely.

Yes, his girlfriend has a beard. That's Samantha Otto (product of an aged down Dora Ottomas mating with Santa Claus--but Sam is not a ho ho ho, thank you very much). They only had one bolt so I'm not sure what I might do with this. Finnian is now an adult (living with Felix) and Sam's still a teen. I'm thinking they may need to breed though, just to see what comes of it.

But the true gem of the triplets is. . .

Fergus Dinero, King of the Dorks.

(love that simgaroop advent calendar hair, by the way)

Not only does he have bad teenage facial hair, giant glasses and questionable fashion taste, he's a knowledge sim (random rolled) with a lifetime want to become a CULT LEADER.

What's not love here, people?

He's also a neat nick who, as a child, proceed to autonomously clean up the acre of filth that had accumulated on the family lot (yes, he had to pick up his own old befouled diapers and bottles that were covered by a foot of snow yet still emitting a powerful stink). (and in other poverty news, the family didn't have indoor plumbing until the youngest was a child--and even then they didn't have a fully walled off bathroom until much later, the toilet and shower were in the kitchen and "walled off" using the carpet/flooring divider things found in build mode under "fences"--love that those are considered "walls").

But let's not overlook the baby of the family.

Zane (the youngest, fathered by Christian Love again) is also a knowledge sim with a uni based LTW (ecological guru--like his sister).

Zane and Fergus are in luck, too, thanks to the arrival of a genie lamp. Since money wishes would defeat the fun of a poverty challenge (and despite what you might think by the stunning addition of wall paper in Zane's picture, this family is still fairly poor) Zane and Fergus will use two of the wishes as "full rides" for college. But not until Joya got one wish for lifetime happiness (only seems fair since she has to be the breeder and it's really not something she's interested in in the least).

So right now Zane and Fergus are in college (Sim State, living in their own place and doing well thanks to using one of the money wishes) while Felix and Finnian are sharing a nice house across town. That leaves Mia (now an elder) and Joya in the main house. Joya just delivered her first child, a son, Cisco. She'd better get cracking on another since there will be a big point deduction if she doesn't squat out a female heir.

If I get any good spawn (say from a pairing with Finnian and Sam Otto) I'll be sure to share.

(and I do plan to get back to my BACC and show off families there--especially the Ottomas clan)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 22:38:33 GMT

Merry Christmas from Harry Elephante and Doris.

(Doris is the first sock monkey I ever made, sewn completely by hand--something I will never do again. And yes, that outfit was not made for her, so she's rocking a kind of santa short-short look. I think it suits her, though). "HEY, quit bogarting that hat. . .give it to. . .what's this, elastic bands. . .oh ho ho, you think that will stop me. The end of a an elephant's trunk is as nimble as a finger. I'll just. . .yeah. . .that's it. . ." "Now THAT'S one for the christmas cards."

Happy/Merry whatever-you-celebrate to everyone!

Tis the Season to be Crafty (or, This Ain't No Babar!)

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 22:26:51 GMT

(warning, pics might be large)
Want to see some of my craftiness?
"Mmm, those look good enough to eat. . ."

What? Who?
Ahhh!

No, no, no. I'm showing off the toadstools right now. You need to sit and wait your turn. "Harumph. . .you know, that flash is just going to wash them out."

Thank you, silver eye. I'm well aware of the lighting issues I'm up against. These stupid "green" light bulbs don't put out enough wattage to make a lightning bug's rump shine. "This looks yummy, too. I really wish you'd put a pipe cleaner or wire in my trunk. Then I could have picked this up and dropped it right into my mouth. Do you think those french knot seeds would stick in my teeth?"

You don't have teeth.

"And who's fault is THAT?" "Is it time for my close up, Mr. De Mille?"

Whoah, hold up there buddy. That's WAY too close.

"Well, if you were a little better with that camera. . ."

Watch it. . .

"I'm just saying. . ." There, that's not so bad.

"I'm not washed out, am I?"

Uh, just a little. . .

"Harumph. . ."

Hey, it's either have the flash on and get a little washed out or having a completely blurry pic. Would you rather look like some drunk's nightmare?

"Hmm, would you dye me pink?"

NO! "That's it. If you're going to yell. . ."

Ok, ok. How's about we try something else that doesn't involve Rit?

*whispers into elephant's ear* "OOOH, that sounds great. Let me just go powder my trunk. HEY, you didn't take a picture of my butt did you?"

*stifling laughter*

No.

---------------------------

(you'll see another very short photoshoot in my next post, coming in just a second but first. . .)

The toadstools and strawberry have been done for quite some time. I whipped them up shortly after I posted the links to the instructions. I'm quite pleased with them. Especially the polka dots on the toadstools. I used my needle felting needles to attach the dots and I like the result. I also made a tootsie roll style sucker but it's not as cool as the toadstools and strawberry so I didn't include it (it's kind of basic--I was trying to alter the toadstool pattern in an attempt to make a squid but it didn't work out so well).

The elephant (who I've been calling Harry Elephante--not too original but it amuses me) is a christmas gift for my nephew in-law. He's still a baby (less than a year old) so won't be able to appreciate the insanity of Auntie Madame but someday I hope he will (and will have this elephant to prove he's related, at least my marriage, to certifiable folks).

Overall I'm pleased with the elephant. If I ever make another I think I'll do somethings different with the trunk. It needs to be a little wider at the face so it attaches a little more smoothly (this trunk has a very "monkey tail" feel to it. What can I say, I'm used to making monkeys).

He is able to do a very stunning Stevie Wonder impression though. I can put my fingers behind his ears and with very little effort have him sway while I sing "I Just Called to Say I Love You" (much to my wife's mixed amusement and horror). I can't wait to do that for my sister. She'll REALLY get a kick out of it.

OK, now to the next photoshoot.

Tis the season!

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 13:00:42 GMT

Tis the season for my favorite holiday song!

Yeah, that just gets me in the festive mood! So, what's your favorite holiday song (religious and non-religious)?

Yinz gonna game?

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 01:26:51 GMT

*waves Terrible Towel*

Wootie McWootinstein, we have tickets for the Steelers game tomorrow afternoon.

Not just any old crap tickets either. My wife's co-worker has season tickets IN THE END ZONE (low). We've sat in them before (she sells them to us when she can't use them,which is rare since she's a rabid football fan) and they are wonderful.

So this afternoon the wife and I went out to get some a few new bits of Steelers garb to celebrate (new shirts for each of us, large enough to go over the multiple layers we'll have to wear to keep warm).

Now if the bums can just WIN for a change (Pitt--the college team--lost today so maybe they got the bad mojo out of Heinz Field).

What? Don't look at me that way. You're in Steelers Country now, baby.

Get in the kichen and bake me a pie!

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 20:45:16 GMT

I did just that this weekend.

My mother ushered the wife and I into the world of pie creation. And I'm happy to report the pumpkin and apple pies (two large pumpkin and two minis, one large apple and one mini) are quite de-lish (even Monte cat was hogging down on the pumpkin).

I have full confidence that the wife and I can reproduce this culinary accomplishment without the mommy aide. The big question is, who is deserving of our snacks?

In other random news, the wife learned the hard way not to upset my parents ultra bitchy cat, Mavis. In short, Mavis does NOT like being held. At. All. She hates is so much she will vomit post holding (no matter how brief the infraction). The wife gathered her up and, after a holding that lasted less than one minute, returned her to her perch where she proceeded to vomit. Then she left her perch and traversed the top of the end table where she proceeded to vomit onto the wife's car keys.

I ask you, what's thanksgiving without pie and cat vomit?

sim_spiration prompt: Character: Herbert Goodie

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 21:01:34 GMT

One more quick little story from teh sim_spiration prompts.

Character: Herbert Goodie (from the Apartment Life EP)

Again, this is Herbert as I know him from my BACC neighborhood, Simsburgh.

-----------------------------------------------------

Even with the hefty sum he’d collected from the life insurance, there was no way she was interested in him for his money. While still handsome, he no longer commanded attention like he had in his youth. The same could be said for his waning virility.

All he had to offer was the wealth of his experiences. Wrapped in his still sharp sense of humor he parceled this lone gift out in bite sized stories and served them to her.

At meal times, he offered her and the family humorous side dishes. Gathered around the fishing hole, he shared helpful bits of wit mixed with wisdom. At night, her head on his chest, their bodies swaddled under the bed clothes, he served her the richest morsels, bits not safely consumed in mixed company.

She partook of his tales with a zeal that bordered on greed. Knowing her well-bred manners forbade openly requesting such treats, he never made her go too long between tastings.

Waiting was no longer a luxury afforded him. This new love must be fattened quickly to insure she could continue the tradition, feeding his tales to the baby he hoped he’d live long enough to welcome.

Sim_spiration prompts (11/17) Characters: Brandi LeTorneau

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 19:23:13 GMT

The sim_spiration community puts up different prompts every day. 11/17 was a character prompt which brought out a bit of creativity.

These two offerings are for character prompt Brandi LeTorneau (townie in Pleasantview). For me, these two stories come from the Brandi LeTorneau-Copur who lives in Simsburgh, my BACC neighborhood.

“. . .you’re a fine girl, what a good wife you would be. . .”

Brandi rolled her eyes and laughed as her husband danced around the kitchen, his antenna broadcasting a song she’d heard a hundred times but had never really liked. It was more than just the embarrassment of having her name associated with a one hit wonder from the seventies. She’d never liked the story in the song, a tale of a woman willingly waiting for a man to give himself to her fully. In her youth she’d sneered at such a weak willed creature, vowing that she’d never be so dumb as to limit herself to one partner let alone one who wouldn’t devote himself to her and her alone.

Had that been what initially attracted her to Charles, the idea that he, not being a man of simple flesh and bone but a robot made of much sturdier construction, wouldn’t be prone to such weaknesses? Wouldn’t such a man be programmed to be doting, attentive to her every need and want, and, most importantly, loyal?

Charles grabbed her by the hand and swept her to him, dancing with her around the dining table singing along with Looking Glass.

“. . .but he had always told the truth, lord, he was an honest man. And Brandy does her best to understand. . .”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The trees are ready,” Brandi quipped, not sparing much of a glance from the page she was reading.

Charles buzzed in response, the robotic version of a sigh.

“I told you I wouldn’t do it anymore,” she reminded him. “I don’t need that hassle.”

It had only happened once but once was enough. Some had rustled their leaves, whispering condemnations while others ticked their thin branches against one another, the sound like the disapproving click of a tongue.

“I still think you are over reacting,” Charles offered. “It can’t be worse than when you had aphids and tried to tend them.”

Brandi scratched at her head self consciously. She didn’t appreciate being reminded about the downside of her new form.
“
Trust me, it was worse. Far worse.” Closing her book she rose from the sofa and approached her husband. His hands in hers, she looked into the lense of his single eye. “They hate me now.”

Charles stroked her shoulder.

“No, they don’t.”

Brandi wanted to believe him but she knew she was right. Unlike the plants grown in the garden whose short lives didn’t allow them the luxury of holding grudges, the trees were permanent residents amassing stories and memories. They had been instrumental in aiding in Brandi’s transformation, a transformation that had allowed her to have a family. They had watched as first her son and then her daughter were germinated and grew, guaranteeing a future for Brandi’s genes as they reached maturity and put down roots of their own across the street from the familial home.

“We don’t have room for a larger orchard,” Charles reminded her. She nodded in agreement then stopped.

“But. . .,” she grinned at Charles, shocked that it hadn’t occurred to her sooner. “. . .Maxwell and Chenile do.”

Charles narrowed his aperture as he considered what he was hearing.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I do remember Maxwell mentioning he’d like to expand their produce selection.”

Brandi gave her husband a quick peck on his cool silver cheek as she sidled past him.

“Where are you going?,” he asked.

“Outside,” she replied, not slowing her pace. “I can’t wait to tell them the good news.”

BACC: Who are the people in your neighborhood? (part 1)

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 02:17:05 GMT

Inspired by tiipiipii (and others) showing off the households in their Build a City Challenge neighborhoods, I had to just jump all over that bandwagon and get all "ooh, lookie, lookie!" with my BACC neighborhood, too.

So while playing through my 9th rotation, I'll snap pics of all the faces in Simsburgh. When I get through ten households, I'll make a post for y'all.

Without further adieu, I give you the first installment of:

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

(oh, I number all my households and will be presenting them in no particular order)

9. Copur

Maxwell and his sister, Chenile. (children of lone plantsim Brandi LeTorneau-Copur)

I like to limit my plantsim breeding so that means Maxwell and Chenile have to breed the "normal" way.

Normal for Maxwell meant (like many a sim in Simsburgh) clamping an eyeball to the telescope and hoping to catch the eye of the aliens. Maxwell got lucky was abducted twice (I think the first time was actually a summon, but I don't remember now).

The products:

"What? We don't have the same alien daddy?"

That's Sam getting to know his yet unborn brother.

Sam (later, obviously) giving his toddler brother, Ryan, the stink eye.

I had a rash of toddlers transitioning into tuxedos.

But Ryan isn't the only toddler in the Copur household. While Maxwell was gestating his second born, his romance minded sister fell prey to ACR and was accidentally impregnated by one of her beaus.

Resulting in:

Rosemary

and

Kale.

(note the tuxedo)

Who's the Servo?

Why that's GENERAL Lizzy Fleig, thank you very much.

At the end of the rotation she moved out along with:

(ha ha!) Jill Smith.

Yes, Jill deserves to be humiliated like this. For you see, Ms. Smith is in the business track and only had ONE promotion left before becoming a tycoon but would her lazy butt get promoted? OF course not. Not even when I moved her and Lizzy out and played them one day in their new abode. *shakes fist* And damn it all if she didn't start a trend too (more on that later).

A trend that spread to. . .

14. Kim

Cynthia and Robert Kim.

Our man Robert is also in the business career track (which is also his LTW, much like that damn Jill Smith) and (again, much like that damn Jill Smith) failed to attain tycoon status during his rotation.

Aww, don't look so sad, Robert. Cynthia still loves you. And, for what it's worth you did have further to go then that damn Jill Smith so I didn't really expect you to hit tycoon.

Your kids still look up to you, too.

Though Justin's pretty preoccupied with the neighborhood girls (we'll get all that gossip in the next issue of the Simsburgh Tribune Review, don't you fret).

But Kyle? Kyle's a chip off the old block. He hit teen during the rotation and became a fortune sim just like dear old dad. He even transitioned into a suit! But alas, his heart is set on becoming a ballet star. That's just about right for this family (what with them being former actors).

Who's this cutie? That's the youngest Kim, Louisa. (yes, there's a funky hair theme going on with the Kim children--Louisa transitioned into this look and it suited her so I left it).

This sums up the Kim household nicely. They're all so wrapped up in their own thing they didn't really notice Louisa's transition.

But we won't forget about Gabby and Cheech. Gabby has a showbiz job. She's not really getting the work she used to, what with getting up there in years. What? You thought Hollywood ageism was restricted to only the bipedal actors? HAH!

Cheech? *laughs* Cheech is a CAT. He works for NO sim.

34. Toyonaga

Christy Toyonaga is (as her lovely powder blue power suit would denote) also in the business track. And like the previous two business folks, she didn't hit tycoon during her rotation. BUT, I'm not upset by her lack of achievement. This was her first rotation in the neighborhood so she was starting from scratch.

As it was, she did manage (as her finger shows) to land herself a mate.

Waylon Menon (and his wonderfully lumpy nose).

Why does the newly engaged Waylon look so thoughful? Has he come to realize that Christy's baby just might not be his?

DUN DUN DUN!!

32. Pons

Marion Pons, heavy with the love child of Gilbert Jacquet (of Bluewater Village).

She lives in the trailer court, living off frozen dinners and wondering how she'll be able to afford a baby on her meager (low level) business career salary. (why yes, I definitely chose these sims to play first because they're in the business career)

Like many a destitute sim before her, Marion delivers more than one baby. Thankfully, it was only twins.

Monroe and Ginger (he's in the pink--and yes, more tuxedos!)

This pic really sums up their relationship. Ginger has a smothering kind of love toward her more submissive brother.

At the end of their rotation, the Pons were so bad off financially they were exempt from taxing.

I mean, LOOK at them! I could have made them sell off some of their belongings but really, what do they own? Poor Monroe has to sleep on that funky 70's pattern couch. Really, their trailer isn't much larger than this (there's a kitchen on the other side of the wall and that's IT. Marion hopes things will get better now that the kids are older.

She also hopes that maybe, just maybe, Gilbert will send her some money. (it just might happen since I realized I have a money order hack!)

26. Jacquet

Ahh, Gilbert Jacquet.

If you ask his long suffering/smothering mother, Denise, there's absolutely NO reason for her son to be so damn tired.

All he ever does is lay around with that awful BRUNETTE wife of his.

While Denise (begrudgingly) does all the smelly grunt work of tending to their two children.

At least. . .what's her brunette name?. . .Tina?. . .managed to produce two BLONDE children.

If there's one thing Denise really likes it's blonde hair.

And a tan.

Denise makes up for her lack of decorum by showering the grandchildren with gifts.

Arnold and Yvonne, in stark contrast to their half brother and sister, have the best of everything.

Why shouldn't they?

After all, they *are* blonde.

(for the record, Tina really is blonde I just didn't notice it until after I'd taken her pic--I swapped her hair over so now Denise is very happy)

45 Geike

This is the only known photo of the reclusive Chester Geike.

It's rumored Chester is willingly living off the grid, subsisting on the gifts from his small garden and the creations he makes from detritus found while combing his private beach.

Rumor also has it that his house has no flooring and his bathroom no walls. Imagine the feel of grass under your feet while you relieve yourself in full view of any and all. SHOCKING!

33. Traver

Lexie Traver has every reason to look smug.

After all she DID win over the very fine Joe Carr.

He even left that old crone of an ex-girlfriend for HER.

Of course, some folks just can't admit defeat.

Lexie just knows she and Joe are going to last FOREVER!

(yes, that's Dora Ottomas. She toppled their trash for three days solid before growing tired of it. If there's one thing she's good at it's holding a grudge.)

18. Barrett

Mario Barrett looks over at his sleeping lover and wonders, quickly and quietly, how he ended up like this.

He'd always joked with his brother that the perk of being gay was no risk of accidental pregnancy.

Now it was his brother, Albie, who was laughing.

How was Mario to know that Ryan had been abducted in his youth, been primed to become a breeder no matter what gender he preferred.

Mario had read all about it on the internet. Funny, his father had never mentioned that to him during "The Talk". What was the point to having an alien father if he conveniently forgot to mention things like that?

But now that he was in the thick of it, it wasn't as bad as he had thought. Sure, he'd never get around to woo-hooing twenty different sims like he'd always dreamed, but he was happy. Really happy. As long as someone else tended to Christina's diapers.

(Mario and Albie are the eldest two sons of Simsburgh's founder, Fred Rogers. They have a Pittsburgh naming theme. I went out on a limb a bit in choosing Christina's name. She's named for Christina Aguillera, who's technically not from Pittsburgh proper but rather a suburb of my fair city. But Pittsburgh claims her so I'll let it slide. I definitely need to find more Pittsburgh themed girl names. And, Mario is the first sim in Simsburgh to attain perma platinum by filling the FT meter. A first for me.)

21. Harris

Milly and Juan Harris showing that there really could have been a "hold hands" interaction (this wasn't posed, either, they just crowded together on their own).

Milly and Juan are residents of the same trailer park as Marion Pons.

Marion lives in the unit on the left which is smaller then the other two lots. The Harris clan occupies the front right building (which is identical in floor plan to the one behind it).

The Harris's are really kind of a trashy family. Ok, maybe trashy's not quite the right word but they're just. . .well. . .yeah, they are trashy. But not in a slobby, stereotypical way. They're more the "what the hell are you thinking?" type of trashy.

First, they have a butt load of kids. Not that that alone makes you trashy.

Meet the quadruplets.

Juanita (in the pink).

Luann

Gillian (the oldest)

and

Willis, the lone boy.

Willis is demonstrating one of the trashy aspects of the family. The kids are like a pack of wild beasts. They're up at odd hours, tearing around the house or hanging out on the playground.

Or if the playground is full they're using the major appliances for recreational purposes.

(they do this at other sims homes, too)

They bring home scores of school friends and make a ton of noise.

They're always the first family to the pizza when the kind and generous landlord throws the weekend parties.

Since it's free, they make sure they take as much as they want without considering the neighbors or the landlord who paid for it.

Speaking of the landlord, they routinely break their bathroom plumbing so the poor guy has to fix something nearly every day (one time he had JUST unclogged the toilet then one of the kids went in there and jammed it all up again, he was at the house until very late cleaning up, quite literally, their shit)

Did I mention they have an ass load of kids? Yeah, four wasn't enough in so they decided to have one more for good measure.

Now, I pause to ask you this. What does a family of seven living in a tiny trailer really, really need?

If you answered "a dog" you WIN!

Yup, they get a puppy. Not a small breed either. They want a "real" dog.

But isn't Betina so cute as she mauls little Blanche?

What? You expected Betina to be better behaved then the other kids? Blanche is a piece of work, too, howling all the time and racing around the house. (to her credit though, she never once peed on the floor)

And it's not like the family is just living off the public dole. Milly is in architecture and Juan business so they were never destitute. So trashy has nothing to do with your tax bracket.

Look out, the quads are teens.

I can only imagine all the "booty calls" that will be made.

"Shut UP, jerkface. I'm so going to fart on you while you're sleeping!"

Yeah, this lot is really classy. AND, they're moving on up. At the close of their rotation they packed up their things and left the trailer park. They now have their own two story house and brand new neighbors to terrorize.

31. Fleig

Holden Fleig and his (later, but not at the time of this picture) wife Elizabeth Ng.

As you might be able to see, Elizabeth is very pregnant (and Holden is quite happy about it--honestly, he grins like a boob all the time).

The Fleig's live in the last trailer in the trailer court (and have to put up with the noise from the Harris clan--and never get any pizza)

Holden's younger sister, Julie Scott.

A bit about their family. Holden was adopted by the atrociously evil witch Jill Fleig. Jill, in her elderhood, paired off with the equally elderfied Vyn Scott. They wed and then adopted Julie (and then other kids). (we'll see that household eventually but I thought a bit of back story would help)

Roydeena Ng.

How much do I love her name? I deliberately waited to have Holden and Elizabeth wed so Roydeena could keep that last name. Yes, there are hacks to edit last name but I don't really care that much. This method works. Roydeena is looking very fish faced throwing her tantrum.

For the record, Holden and Elizabeth are both knowledge with family secondary and they were OBSESSED with having a second baby. Roydeena had just been born, I mean literally she was still wet from the womb when Holden and Elizabeth were (thanks to ACR) trying for another baby.

Which lead to Doreena.

She's all the fault of ACR. I've decided to curb my breeding a bit but didn't put any sim on birth control or adjust the risky woo-hoo setting (it's still at 5% and has only resulted in 1 pregnancy if memory serves).

I'm also trying to boost the university fund so, starting with Holden, any sim that has an owned business had to play it for 24 hours during their rotation. So, Holden headed off to the Military PX that he runs. I'll have a nice little story about it in the next issue of the Simsburgh Tribuen Review. But I will say this, it's a very low rent type of grocery store selling only the necessities like milk, diapers, liquor and fireworks. CLASSY!

Of the 10 households listed, 6 have owned lots and I only played 1 (and have never once played the other 5). That's just a waste. So I'm tightening my belt and cracking the whip.

Hope you enjoyed seeing some of the people in my neighborhood.

Until next time. . .

Sometimes it's best to keep your creativity to yourself

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 15:36:52 GMT

I just discovered regretsy, a blog featuring some of the more. . .how shall I put it nicely. . .hell, there's no way to be nice about it. . .seriously WTF things from Etsy (the "look, ma, I made it all by myself and I just know I'll be a millionaire selling it!" site that, god help me, has eaten up a lot of my time).

THIS one was just very cute.

Be warned, some items on regretsy may not be for the faint of heart (or safe for the work place).

Pixel_trade: Build A Neighborhood: Bungalows for Rent

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 04:04:05 GMT

Over at pixel_trade they're doing a Build a Neighborhood construction project. Everyone can make their own lots to share.

SO, I whipped up the:

4 Units, $1961-$2094

Care for a tour?

We'll start in the back and work forward.

The two back lots are mirror images of each other.

Through the front door (wave to the cute alien statue!). . .

You can almost smell the sweat of all the washed up once weres and sadly rejected might have beens.

The scents of stale cigarettes and slowly decaying dreams huddle among the shag carpeting.

One lonely bedroom, newly re-carpeted but no less stark and sad.

What does it say about your new home when the bathroom is the focal point? Deep browns will hide a multitude of stains.

But it's not all out-dated wood paneled sadness. What's that?

Pink? Soothing like a bismuth tablet.

Put on a smile and eat yourself into happiness.

The two front lots are also very similar to one another.

Through the door. . .

Through the kitchen. . .

Two bedrooms. One for you, one for your fallen star.

And a bathroom to wash away the grease paint and tears.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Get them HERE.

Note: These should be CC free but I do have a "usable corner counter" hack that was NOT removed when making these. Please use clean installer. I have all EPs and all SPs EXCEPT Ikea.

These were NOT play tested. If there are any issues, leave a comment and I will try to help you out.

Thanks for looking.

It's time for a haircut when. . .

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 12:18:13 GMT

. . .you're in the bagel shop and your held hostage by your own locks.

Yes, I was reaching to take back my debit card and was adjusting my bag on my shoulder and felt my hair tugging. Thinking it was just caught under the bag handle, I tried to give it the flip (yank it out and toss it away from trouble in one smooth motion).

Wrong.

Somehow or another, I got my very own hair snarled around the button on my coat sleeve. So there I stood, my hand shackled to my own head by a snarly mini rat nest of hair.

I tried to just give it a yank but it was sufficiently wrapped around the button that I had to use my left hand to pluck and pick at it until I was freed.

All while two shop workers watched. I'm so happy I get to be their story for the morning.

Proving there are stories everywhere. . .

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 17:08:39 GMT

. . .even on the long trail to Oregon.

Click and be amused.

Pudding Skin: Now Lactose Free!

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 05:14:06 GMT

I forgot how tedious it is to make your own pudding. Yeah, it's just a jello mix but you have to babysit the hell out of it lest it scorch.

But, when I peeled that layer of still slightly warm skin off and slurped it up like a big chocolate loogie. . .yeah, SO worth the constant stirring. And it took all my self control not to strip the skin off the other cup. I'm saving that sweet treat for breakfast.

It's a shame that pudding won't skin over more than once. Well, it does get a tiny second skin but it's not the same as the first thick and delicious skin.

Oh and the directions note that you might get a "slightly softer set" using lower fat and/or lactose reduced milk but it's not true. I used 1% fat lactose free milk and it's nice and thick.

SO, this means NO MORE SOY PUDDING. Not that soy pudding was bad (unlike soy "milk" which is heinous) but it just can't compare to pudding that grows its own skin.

In other lactose free food related news (this is for you, silentsteel) imitation cheese product (aka fake cheese) is pretty good. I don't remember the brand but I got some mozzarella style "cheese" shreds and used them in mashed potatos. They melted nicely and had a very cheese like flavor. Sadly, though, when I went to use them again (on a frozen pizza) they had gone moldy. I would definitely use them again.

AND, I got a fake cheese pizza (frozen) and it was VERY good. The cheese melted nicely, had good stretch and tasted every bit like cheese. But I have to admit, I was never a big cheese eater (like on crackers) so I might not be the best judge of how good an imitator fakes the real thing.

Time to go to bed. You know I'll have visions of pudding skin dancing in my head.

Get your craft on!

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 12:41:48 GMT

I'm jonesing to get my crafty on so I was lolly-gagging around and what did I find?

FREE patterns for stuff I think I actually have the skill level to make.

I know I'm not the only one who sees some crafty thing and really wants to make it but it's just out of reach skill wise *glares at amigurumi critters*. But the felt stuff looks to be right up my alley. The picnic basket looks very time intensive but not HARD.

AND, the picnic basket has me wanting to make a full display using a bunch of things I already have. I'm thinking "Sock Monkey's Picnic" using my two sets of conjoined twin monkeys. Or, a camping scene. I could get a pattern for THIS and I could use the little tents I have.

First things first, I need to get the rust knocked off my sewing skills and make some of the little things on the free pattern page. I see some mushrooms and oreos in my future.

Pittsburgh and the G20 Summit

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 12:27:34 GMT

Pittsburgh (my fair city) is playing host to the G20 summit.

And let me tell you, it's a cluster eff.

The local media keeps talking out both sides of its mouth, trying to convince folks that the G20 is both a great thing (it'll stimulate the local economy) and something to be feared (evil protestors will burn down the city, including the sports stadiums--won't someone think of the Steelers!?).

While businesses board up their windows and close down for the next three days, the residents of The Burgh try to figure out the new public transit routes while trying not look suspicious, lest the beefed up police presence demonstrate their newly inflated sense of importance.

Will anything positive result from these leaders coming together to chew the fat? Doubtful. The rich and powerful will continue to balance on the backs of the poor and disenfranchised.

But I guess that's why they chose Pittsburgh for their meeting, hmm? A city built by rich business men at the expense of every exploitable resource they could find.

If that doesn't embody the G20, I don't know what does.

Tecza (Round Robin Legacy): Share a Tecza!

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:58:56 GMT

I'll leave the poll open until this time tomorrow (Tuesday).

But in the meantime, you can get your own favorite Tecza for your very own!

Both are available HERE.

I do believe both are packaged with base game content. Though I wasn't able to verify that with Seville since bodyshop was being a poop (I had to package him without double checking his hair--but I'm pretty sure it's base).

And for those who care, GENETICS:

Seville Genetics:

DOM:

Eye: e43f3360-3a08-4755-8b83-a0d37a6c424b

Hair:2
Skintone:3
SkinRange:3

REC:

Eye: 51c4a750-c9f4-4cfe-801c-898efc360cb7

Hair: 3
skintone: 3
Skinrange: 1

Tangelo Genetics:

DOM:

Eye:51c4a750-c9f4-4cfe-801c-898efc360cb7

Hair:1
Skintone:3
SkinRange:3

REC:

Eye: e43f3360-3a08-4755-8b83-a0d37a6c424b

Hair: 2
Skintone: 3
SkinRange: 1

I think that about covers it. If there are any problems with the files, let me know and I'll correct them.

(now. . .time to check the poll and see who's the favorite)

Tecza (Round Robin) Legacy: Generation 3 (black)

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 03:57:18 GMT

I'm finally READY to show off my generation of the Tecza Legacy.

First off, I want to thank iceraptoress for giving me a great sim (and story) to work with. The first part of the story (which I consider Obsidian's part) was influenced heavily by iceraptoress's tale (read it HERE).

It's a three parter, folks, so put some visine in your eyes, you'll need it!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

OR, just go right to the HEIR POLL

Enjoy!

Tecza (Round Robin) Legacy: HEIR POLL

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 03:46:19 GMT

Ok, so here's the heir poll and some jibber jabber about the little story.

For those who aren't in the know, the Awesimsauce Legacy rules assign a color to each generation along with special rules. With Obsidian, I had to keep his color scheme black and I couldn't fulfill any of his wants. So, he became a manic depressive (both in the game and in the story). Full disclosure, I did fulfill a want here and there. The big exception I made to the rule was for stargazing. Since Obsidian had a knowledge secondary want, he routinely rolled wants to stargaze. And since I wanted him to get abducted, I actively fulfilled those wants. I'd also actively fulfill his wants if another family member had the same one (and if the want was a small one, like "talk about hobby"). This happened the most with Tiffany. She's a romance sim (like Obsidian) so she'd roll wants for dates so I send her on dates with Obsidian, who would get wants fulfilled as a side effect. Hey, there was nothing in the rules that said the SPOUSE of the heir had to be miserable all the time!

I really did want to turn Obsidian into a werewolf but the pack leader NEVER came back around. In fact, I don't remember seeing any other pack leaders at all. So it was just not meant to be. It was also better for the story that he never succeeded with The Project.

NOW, about the potential heirs.

Per the Awesimsauce rules, only the two oldest offspring are eligible for heirdom (heirhood?). I bred Obsidian more because he is part of my Build a City Challenge neighborhood (and as such needed to produce at minimum three children to replace himself, Tiffany and Armando--I had just about given up on the abduction when it finally happened).

"So we're it, huh?"

"Looks like."

"Hey, what happened to your cool glasses?"

"Oh, they're custom so. . ."

"Say no more. You'll probably have to lose that funky outfit too. . ."

"Shh, she's getting to our stats."

Since I don't remember who's technically the first born I'm going to go alphabetically.

Seville Tecza:

Family Sim (Gemini): LTW top Education career
Turn ons: high cooking and cleaning skill
Turn off: high logic
OTH: Fitness (level 8)
Stats: Neat 2, Outgoing 8, Active 10, Playful 3, Nice 9

Skills : Charisma 2, Body 10, Logic 7, Creativity 6, Cleaning 3

Badges: Bronze fishing

NOTES: I failed when it came to the rule about maxing the hobby. I could NOT get any hobby maxed let alone the one I was supposed to. Seville managed to get to level 8 in fitness and a few points in others. I did get the maxed body though. I also random rolled for sexual preference and Seville rolled "straight".

Seville has a great profile. I really love the needle nose. Also, despite his high outgoing and nice points, he made very few autonomous love actions (even ACR ones).

The same can not be said for his brother:

Tangelo Tecza:

Popularity Sim (Leo): LTW top Law Enforcement Career
Turn ons: hard working and underwear
Turn off: witchiness
OTH: games (level 9)
Stats: Neat 7, Outgoing 8, Active 3, Playful 6, Nice 3

Skills: Cooking 3, Mechanical 2, Charisma 2, Body 10, Logic 5, Creativity 7, Cleaning 4

NO badges

NOTES: Tangelo is so lumpy I almost mistook him for an Ishkabibble. As previously stated I random rolled for sexual preference and Tangelo rolled "gay". In keeping with being the opposite of his brother, Tangelo was VERY randy in his youth. He made many a booty call and shocked me quite a few times when I went looking for him only to find him fornicating in his parent's bed.

Now normally I'd have a certain heir I'd be pulling for but in all honesty, I like both of them a lot (for different reasons). Each gave me many a laugh and more than a few "aww moments" (lots of cute tuck in animations from both, as we saw). My only regret is I didn't get some recessive genetics in the mix.

I'll make both sims available in a few days (I still have to extract them). I'll include all genetic info in that post.

SO, who do you want to continue the Tecza line:

View Poll: Tecza Legacy Gen 4 Heir Poll

Tecza (Round Robin) Legacy: Generation 3 (PART 3)

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 01:26:24 GMT

Part 3 of 3

“Oof. . .sorry dad. . .,” Bittersweet stepped around his father. “I just really gotta GO!”

“Smooth move,” Tangelo laughed as the bathroom door slammed behind his little brother.

Tangelo had no idea what had brought it on but was certain no one ever really knew. His father was just full of sadness that would, at random times, erupt.

Tangelo had never been alone with his father during one of these eruptions.

It was like he came by the comforting naturally. He knew that soothing noises would do no good. Obsidian couldn’t hear them. Soothing words wouldn’t shorten the outburst any, either. Obsidian would cry as long as he needed to cry. And Tangelo may never know why. All he could do was hug his father to him and be there until it was over.

“Dad. . .what’s wrong? Did I. ..”

“It’s ok, Sweet. . .”

“. . .hurt you?”

Bittersweet’s words stirred fresh waves of tears in their father. Tangelo clung to Obsidian, determined to weather the storm. Bittersweet, calm yet confused, watched but asked no further questions.

After a few long moments, Obsidian began to calm down. Sniffing, he looked from Tangelo to Bittersweet then back to Tangelo. Tangelo managed one final squeeze before Obsidian slipped from his embrace and, without a word, left them.

Tangelo turned his attention to Bittersweet, tickling him and distracting him from the sadness. He knew their father would slink off to either his bed or the coffin and would emerge some time later, slightly less sad.

And he did.

Cara Cara’s transition was a quiet one.

And Obsidian seemed quite happy for the moment.

While Tiffany and Armando labored to maintain Obsidian’s happiness they knew it was a losing battle. Forces beyond their control were aligning against them.

Obsidian’s elder transition dipped him once again into the mire of unhappiness.

“I love you, Obsidian.”

Tiffany shivered as her husband smiled at her. He was as handsome as ever, maybe even more. The silver hair suited him. She hoped she’d look as good when her (quickly approaching) transition arrived.

“I love you, too.”

Obsidian’s sadness was short lived.

He had to teach Cara Cara to walk. Having taught his three sons to walk, he fancied himself something of an expert.

He left the messier lessons to someone else.

“Baby girl. . .”

“Pee pee.”

“You have to pee pee?”

“Norbit pee pee.”

“Norbit!”

“Pee pee. . .”

“Yeah, Norbit’s a bad boy! You go outside right now!”

“Norbit bad. . .”

Norbit was having a bad night all the way around. First he was yelled at for no reason what so ever (at least that he could figure out) and now this? Beat up by not only a smaller dog but a FEMALE.

He couldn’t understand it.

The dog that lived upstairs. . .the big gray one. . .always ran away when Norbit barked at him.

It just didn’t make sense.

Norbit crept up the back stairs and into the master bedroom.

At least he could still do THIS right. He’d sit on the bed next to Armando and make sure that big gray dog didn’t get any ideas.

But what? What was that noise?

He raced out of the room and back down the stairs.

Wolves! He’d keep them away.

“. . .it was scary. I kind of remember a little, from when I was on the ship.”

It was the first time Obsidian had ever spoken about his abduction. Tiffany had always wondered what he felt about it but was too cautious to ever ask. It was a rare treat for husband to randomly open up to her like this. She listened as he told her the whole tale, sharing with her the excitement and fear.

“Thank you for listening to me.”

Tiffany snuggled closer to her husband.

“Thank you for sharing.”

“. . .I’m telling you, it’s that weird looking kid from down the street.”

“No way. . .”

Tangelo smirked. Bittersweet and Seville were such gossips.

And they were totally off base. Yeah, he’d flirted with Trevor Ottomas (and yes, he was a little weird looking) but he really wasn’t his type. Trevor was just a friend. A friend who’d pose nude in his bathroom while Tangelo watched from the telescope in the yard. It was harmless.

Tangelo had a lot of friends.

And some were more friendly then others.

Tangelo hung up the phone and, without a word, grabbed Bittersweet by the neck and gave him a vigorous noogie.

“What was THAT for?”

“For being a dirty gossip.”

“So. . .who were you talking to?”

“A friend.”

“Who? That Orlando guy? He’s such a tool. You didn’t hump him. . .did you?”

Tangelo smirked.

“Eww, man. You can do so much better than him.”

“Eh, sometimes you just want to get it over with so. . .”

“He was your first!”

“Why don’t you just scream it from the roof. Jeezus. This is why you don’t have anyone. When did you turn into such a spaz?”

“So, who was it?”

“Sterling. He’s coming over later.”

“Cool. Hey what ever happened with that one guy. . .had the messy hair. . .Clay?”

“I got this huge charley horse right when we were about to jump into the sack.”

“No way? So did he bail?”

“No but I kind of wish I had. It was just mediocre.”

“So that’s why you’re back with Sterling, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the best. Not that I’m getting ready to settle down and all that crap like Seville.”

The three Tecza boys were definitely awash in hormones.

Tangelo enjoyed sampling all the different boys he encountered while Seville enjoyed a more conventional monogamy with his steady girl.

Bittersweet wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted.

“So, what’d you say your name was again?”

“Hmph. . .”

“Sweet. . .jeez!”

“What? What did I say?”

“Man, you’re such a spaz.”

One thing was for certain, he wasn’t getting anywhere with Seville’s girlfriend’s friend. Bittersweet knew Nancy had only brought her along because Seville had asked.

He got the impression that his brother might just like the friend a bit.

He wasn’t the only one.

“Nancy. . .I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

Bittersweet didn’t know what his brother saw in Nancy. She was kind of stuck up and more than a little bit mean. In the words of Tangelo:

“She’s a cock tease.”

Seville had taken offense at his brother’s blunt assessment of the situation.

“Why not? I just want to go steady, Nancy. It’s not like we have to. . .you know, DO anything.”

“NO, Seville. Going steady IMPLIES we are doing. . .those things. I don’t want rumors to get started that I. . .just NO. Ok. NO!”

Seville was not easily deterred.

While he was aware that Nancy wasn’t the only sim in the world (and she may not be The Sim that he found true love with), he was determined to make this relationship work as well as it could for as long as it could.

If he was ever going to have a loving family of his own, he needed to learn how to mend relationships.

To nurture.

To get along with different sims, to understand their unique needs.

“You can learn all that just from watching mom and dad, goofball.”

“Not necessarily,” Seville countered.

“Look at Bittersweet and Cara Cara. They both have the same parents as us and. . .well. . .they don’t have any clue about how to get along with each other. It’s like they aren’t even related. It’s so SAD.”

“It’s fine,” Tangelo laughed. His brother did have a flare for the dramatic. “It’s just because she’s so much younger. And you know Sweet. He’s a spaz.”

But Tangelo had noticed. Cara Cara, while far from neglected by the rest of the family, was a bit of a loner.

She reminded him a bit of himself.

Except for her natural physical talents. She might even be more talented than Seville.

So what if the two youngest Tecza children weren’t as close as the older ones?

“What about when we leave, Tangelo? Won’t it be easier for them if they have each other. . .you know. . .for when dad. . .”

Tangelo hadn’t thought of that.

“Hold up. . .what about C.C.?”

Tangelo was surprised. He didn’t think Bittersweet had even noticed their sister was in the room.

“Oh, yeah. Come on, I can kick your butt upstairs.”

Maybe Tangelo wouldn’t have to interfere. Maybe Bittersweet would come around on his own after all.

Good thing, too. Tangelo had other matters to attend to.

“You WILL make this deal!”

Tangelo hardly needed the pep talk.

The way Makoto had been flirting with him, the old guy would probably give him an internal organ if he so much as hinted that he wanted one. Yeah, it was a little bit creepy but Tangelo could handle it. The old guy was just lonely. And if being flirted with by a young buck like himself made Makoto feel good (and secured them a contribution toward The Project) what was the problem?

Armando watched Tangelo closely. He was well aware of what the boy was doing. While he didn’t condone the actions, in this case it seemed no one was being taken advantage of so he’d let it slide. And it was nice to have someone else working on The Project. Armando wasn’t as young as he once was and it was hard to keep up the pace.

“You don’t think he’s having sex with that old man, do you?”

Armando chuckled to himself. He should have know he wasn’t the only one to notice Tangelo’s activities.

“No.”

“You know, not so long ago I would have thought that whole thing. . .an elder man flirting with a teen boy. . .was pretty sick. But now that I’m almost and elder myself. . .,” Tiffany sighed.

“So you’re going to start flirting with teen boys?,” Armando teased. They both laughed. “You’d better be careful, I might get jealous.”

He’d said it jokingly but neither of them laughed. Bad memories had been released into the room and suddenly their cuddling didn’t seem so innocent. They slid apart, Armando rolling onto his side as Tiffany slipped from the bed entirely. He listened as she padded across the floor and closed the bedroom door behind her.

She made her way upstairs and into the children’s bathroom.

It swept over her quietly and painlessly. When the lights had faded she opened the cabinet and pulled out a bag. Inside was the outfit she’d selected. Only after she was clad in her new clothes did she look at herself in the mirror.

She liked what she saw but she needed just one little fix.

Perfect.

She made her way to the first floor only to discover she was not alone in her transformation.

“Your hair,” she laughed. “You’re gorgeous.”

She hugged him.

“So are you,” he whispered into her ear.

“You. . .you caught up with me,” Obsidian smiled.

“I told you it wouldn’t take long.”

“And you. . .Armando. . .wow!”

“Yeah, I do kind of stand out now, huh?”

It felt good.

Outside, Seville was getting a surprise of his own.

While he hadn’t been able to fully mend things with Nancy, she was more generous now. It made him feel awkward. Like he was taking advantage of her.

Tangelo and Bittersweet told him to enjoy it but he just couldn’t shake the feeling. Staring up at the night sky, he wondered if he’d ever find The One. He consoled himself with the thought that, even if he never did find the perfect sim, he always had a chance at being abducted. He’d have a family of his own no matter what. He stayed at the telescope until his nose felt numb and he could no longer bend his fingers.

He stumbled up the back stairs and cut through his parent’s bedroom on his way to the bathroom. With thoughts of a long soak in a hot bath occupying his mind, he didn’t notice his father until he heard him gasp.

“OH!. . .oh, no!”

“Sorry, dad. Didn’t know you were in here. . .”

Obsidian stared at his son.

“Ebony. . .,” he choked.

Seville recognized the name. His mother had, shortly after their teen transition, taken him and Tangelo aside and told them everything she knew about their father’s family. It was surprisingly little. But key among the facts was Ebony, their father’s sister. An aunt they would never meet.

“Dad. . .it’s ok, it’s me. . .it’s Seville.”

“Oh. . .oh, my Ebony. . .I’m so sorry. . .so sorry. . .”

Hearing his father’s pleas for forgiveness, Seville did the only thing he could.

“It’s ok. . .I forgive you. . .Ebony forgives you.”

Seville continued to whisper assurances as his body absorbed his father’s warmth and slowly shed its ashy pallor. As his son’s skin regained its healthy glow, Obsidian’s tears ebbed. Slowly Seville led Obsidian to the bed and helped him between the sheets. Crouching beside the bed, he leaned toward his father and kissed his still wet cheek.

How could he ever leave?

“I won’t hear anymore about. . .”

“But it’s a legitimate question, Armando.”

“Tangelo, I told you. There is no reason why you. . .ANY of you. . .need to feel obligated to stay here after your adult transition.”

Tangelo sighed.

“But wouldn’t it be better for The Project if. . .”

“If what? If you’re unhappy because you can’t live your own life?”

“I’m not unhappy now.”

“Maybe not, but once you’re an adult you’ll want your freedom. You can’t tell me you’ll still think it’s fun to have sex in your parent’s bed once you’re an adult. That may be fun for a teen boy but what MAN is going to find that erotic?”

Tangelo stared at Armando. He’d never heard him speak so candidly. Tangelo sighed.

“No one’s chasing you out,” Armando continued. “But this is how things are supposed to be, Tangelo. Children grow up and move into their own homes to have their own lives. You’re not abandoning your parents. And don’t forget,” Armando nudged the boys shoulder, “your father still has your mother AND me. We were here long before the lot of you came along so I think we can handle it.”

Tangelo laughed.

“Let me guess. You gave this same speech to Seville?”

Armando nodded.

“Now, if this is settled, I have a transition dinner to make.”

Tangelo watched Armando as he left the room. He knew Armando was right but he still felt a tinge of guilt.

The discussion with Tangelo had left Armando distracted.

And the lobster thermidor had paid the price.

He could always make another batch after the transitions were over.

“I can’t look. ..tell me when it’s over.”

“It’s done, dad.”

“Oh. . .oh wow. . .that was wild.”

“You act like you’ve never had a transition before,” Tangelo snipped.

“Yeah. . .well this one felt different. . .didn’t you feel it? Like I just drank ten energy drinks.”

Tangelo had. But to him it had felt like waking from a long sleep only to discover you’re still tired.

He watched his brother and Armando horsing around and felt a mixture of excitement and sadness. Their lives were, in essence, just starting while the people who were responsible for getting them to this point were nearing their ends. Yes, they still had many days ahead of them but they were all clearly numbered.

After a dinner of (slightly charred) lobster thermidor, the household settled in for the night.

“Obsidian,” Tiffany sighed as she roused from her couch slumber. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so cute, so I let you sleep.”

Tiffany smiled at him and he smiled back.

“What are you up to this late?”

“Writing. It’s a story about this guy and this great plan he had and all the people he meets and all the things that happen while he’s trying to. . .”

“So it’s an autobiography?”

“No. . .,” Obsidian considered the page and the memories that had inspired what he’d written so far. “It’s a love story.”

END!

Heir poll and random chit chat HERE.

Tecza (Round Robin) Legacy: Gen 3 (PART 2)

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 00:45:28 GMT

The mobile toddlers were a welcome distraction for Obsidian.

And when he tired, Tiffany and Armando were always there.

Tiffany and Armando.

What a pair.

Between tending to Obsidian and the toddling twins, they had grown quite close.

As childhood advanced on her twin sons, Tiffany focused on the future.

Beside her, Obsidian moaned in his sleep. Memories of his own childhood attacked him when he was at his most vulnerable. He muttered something Tiffany couldn’t quite make out and flinched when she reached to comfort him with a gentle touch.

Despite the slow progress on Obsidian’s part, Armando continued to keep up his end of the bargain. Though now the cash earned was for a different Project.

“Bye, Armando!”

“Bye!”

“Goodbye, fellas. Have a good day at school.”

It wasn’t as if Obsidian could hold down a job, what with his random and disturbing crying jags and harsh breaks with reality. And who besides Tiffany could really be trusted to handle Obsidian’s delicate condition?

“Have fun at school. Dad’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

“Don’t worry, dad. We won’t be gone that long. And when we get back, after dinner, me and you can go look for spaceships with the telescope.”

His sons were, without really knowing it, each learning how to defuse their father’s sadness, to redirect his misery, to lure him back from the edge.

“Remember, my friend’s gonna come over after school. You’re gonna really like him, I bet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s really cool.”

“This is my bedroom. Really, this whole floor is for me and my brother Tangelo. He’s like my best friend.”

“You must like orange, huh?”

“It’s ok. My mom picked out everything when we were just little babies.”

“Come on, you and your dad gotta meet my mom and dad.”

“Mitchell, I really think we should be going.”

“Aww, dad, come on. . .”

“Yeah, Mister Dewberry. Please? It’ll just be a little bit. And maybe you can stay for dinner. . .”

“Seville, we can’t. . .oh, look out son, should you really. . .”

“It’s ok, I do this all the time. Come on, I’ll get my mom and dad and. . .”

“Seville, really, we should be going. Mitchell’s mother is home alone with the baby and. . .we can come visit another time.”

“THERE you are. I wanted you to meet Mitchell and his dad but they had to leave cuz his mom was home alone with the baby. She must not be very good at watching babies if Mister Dewberry has to help her. . .”

“Seville, sweetie, daddy and I are trying to talk.”

“Hey, how come you’re nake. . .”

“Why don’t you go find Tangelo. I bet he’d like to play.”

“Nah, he’s probably just looking out the telescope. I told him a bunch of times that you can’t see the stars when the sun is still out but he said he can see plenty of heavenly bodies. . .”

“HELLO?! Anyone home?”

“ARMANDO!”

“. . .was watching my husband bathe. If you don’t get this little. . .little PERVERT under control, then I will!”

The children were definitely a Project.

“Obsidian. . .oh, you scared me.”

Obsidian didn’t look up.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Did you want something?”

The low click of the puzzle was his only reply.

Tiffany had never seen him this way, so unresponsive, so. . .disturbing.

She was relieved to see Armando was already in the kitchen. Something told her she’d need all the help she could get for whatever storm was about to make landfall.

Neither of them could have been prepared.

Armando stared, motionless, as the sounds of slapping echoed through the quiet house.

“Obsidian. . .,” Tiffany gasped, more shocked then hurt.

“I figured out the puzzle,” Obsidian finally replied. “You two didn’t think I would, but I did. You thought I wouldn’t. . .that I wasn’t logical enough but I’m maxed. MAXED. I figured it all out.”

“Obsidian. . .,” Armando tried to put himself between them but Obsidian was quick, taking Tiffany by the arm and pulling her close.

“No, no, no. Not anymore, old friend,” he smiled, ticking his finger back and forth. “You’ve had more than. . .”
“Obsidian what. . .”

“. . .enough of my wife.”

Tiffany’s words caught in her throat. Did he really think?

“Obsidian, what do you mean?”

“OH, you know exactly what I mean. You know, I recognized it right away. . .the very first time I saw you, really.” Obsidian snickered.

“What? I don’t understand. . .”

He curled his finger, beckoning her closer. Reluctantly, Tiffany leaned in to hear him whisper.

“You’re a whore.”

Tiffany’s face burned as if he’d given her a fresh slap. Shocked, she spun away from him, tears filling her eyes.

“Maybe you need to calm down.” Armando glanced over Obsidian’s shoulder to where Tiffany stood stunned.

“I see you looking at her. . .like right now. Are you thinking about how you’re going to comfort her. . .how she’s going to comfort you, just like she comforts me.”

“Obsidian. . .are you. . .you think Tiffany and I. . .,” Armando couldn’t finish. While he’d never done more than hug Tiffany in his silly bigfoot way, he had thought about comforting her, of her comforting him just like she comforted Obsidian. And he got the feeling she had the same thoughts. They had sinned in their hearts and Obsidian knew.

Tiffany gasped and raced for the stairs. Armando stepped to follow but was blocked by Obsidian.

“How could you think we would do. . .”

“You think I can’t SEE lust? All those women who wanted me, used to throw themselves at me. I KNOW lust. . .oh, I do. . .”

“Obsidian, please, don’t yell. . .”

“Tangelo, what’s that noise. . .”

Tiffany watched him walk away, watched as he entered their bedroom and shut the door behind him. How could he. . .after all she. . .BOTH of them had done for him, this is how they were repaid? The more she thought about it the more she wanted to march down the stairs and out the front door, never to return.

“. . .I heard yelling. . .”

But what about their sons? She couldn’t leave them. And to leave and take them with her, to leave Obsidian alone. While her thoughts burned over what he had done, she knew she could never do that to him.

Quietly she slipped out the door and onto the back patio. The kids wouldn’t see her and she could calm down, take in some cool night air and regain her composure.

“Dad. . .I heard noises. Like yelling.”

“Yelling?”

“Yeah, you were yelling. At mom.”

“Oh yes. Yes, I was.”

“How come?”

“Because I let my guard down. You know, you have to be VERY careful who you let in. Friends, lovers? They can all betray you. So be very, very careful, right?”

“Ok.”

Over the course of the next days and weeks, the after effects of the fight (and Obsidian’s words to Seville) became apparent.

Seville had become distant toward Armando in particular.

In contrast the normally more aloof Tangelo was drawn toward Armando, even actively asking for the silly “bigfoot hugs” he has previously shown little interest in.

Saddened at the thought of losing Seville, of seeing the family he thought of as his damaged any further, Armando intervened.

“You two need to talk.”

Through long trips down memory lane, laughing about how they met and all the wonderful times they had shared, the holes were patched. And as his parents came back together, Seville slowly came back to Armando.

But it would be a while before they could sleep together again. Obsidian needed the seclusion of the coffin bed more now then ever.

Eventually, they did find their way back into the same bed.

“Obsidian, I’ve been thinking. . .”

They were in agreement.

As Tiffany’s belly swelled, so did Armando’s worry. Another child? Was that a wise decision? He mentioned his concerns to Tiffany in passing but she was convinced it was a good choice, that Obsidian could handle it. Who was Armando to question it?

“It’s a boy. . .Obsidian, a boy!”

Obsidian groaned and for a moment Tiffany felt the worry Armando had. Had she been wrong?

“YEAH, I have another SON!”

Tiffany felt drunk with happiness. A new baby and a husband who was not collapsed in the dirt, clucking like a chicken or screeching like a monkey. But. . .for how long.

With Obsidian retired to his coffin, Tiffany tended to the new baby’s needs and made her way upstairs.

For a fleeting moment she worried about doing it.

But once she was up against him, it felt ok. Safe.

“It’s a boy,” she whispered, careful to keep her hands at her own sides.

“Was everything. . .”

“He was great. He cheered,” Tiffany’s voice cracked and she swallowed hard.

“What’s his name?,” Armando managed before yawning.

“Bittersweet. Bittersweet Tecza.”

Armando watched the new baby as he slept. Bittersweet. The name made him smile.

“Tonight. . .he’s coming tonight, you know.”

Armando heard Tangelo but was confused.

“Who?”

“Our puppy. Duh!”

“Look at his teeth, mom. They’re so little. And his tail. . .did you see his tail.”

“I’ll look in a second, sweetie. I need to get your brother cleaned up first, ‘kay?”

“Norbit, Norbit, Norbit.”

Tiffany smiled at the sound of Seville singing the dog’s name.

“So, you like him?”

“Like him? I LOVE him!”

It was the least she could do for her two eldest sons. And it was an easy transition gift.

Armando and Tiffany enjoyed the convenience of a dual transition day. Big events always posed such a challenge when it came to Obsidian.

But he seemed to fair as well as possible.

With all three children more self sufficient, the adults found themselves in a happy new arrangement.

One that reminded them of the old days, when it was just the three of them, their futures spread out before them like freshly tilled earth ready for the planting.

“I thought there was a bottle in here. . .”

“Did mama lose your nosh, B.Sweet? Silly mama. . .”

“Did you look on the door?”

“The door. . .ah, there it is?”

While they may have brief vacations from it, none of them would ever be able to escape.

Obsidian’s sadness.

Tiffany could ask what was wrong, try to coax words from her husband but more often than not, he’d sob silently then creep away to his coffin or the bubble bath without a word.

“I feel like I’ve lost my touch,” she sighed to Armando. “Ever since. . .”

“Balderdash!”

Bigfoot hugs could always lift her from the mire of self-pity. And Armando knew it.

He wasn’t the only one with such a gift.

“Hah, get it. . .get it boy. That’s right, dance!”

Norbit had proven a wonderful addition to the home, offering each family member a friendly soul to play with or confide in.

“Norbit? Are you growling?”

He also had an uncanny ability to tell which sims may or may not be worthy of the family’s attentions.

With two teen boys in the household, it was a never-ending stream of new faces.

And new feelings.

“Jeez. . .I’m trying to WORK here. Take it outside.”

“I really love the skillful way you beat the other girls to the bride’s bouquet.”

“Oh. . .oh, Seville!”

“What’s with that get up?,” Tangelo was eager to rib his brother once Nancy was safely on her way back home. “She some kind of priss?”

“No. She’s just. . .old school.”

“Oh,” Tangelo laughed. “I get it. That’s just her cover, so no one figures out you’re toucha-toucha-toucha-ing her. . .DOWN THERE!”

“No. . .”

“Uh-huh, so why are you blushing then?”

“I’m not. . .”

“Defensive, too. . .oh, you hound dog, you. I thought for certain I’d be the first to. . .”

“Ew, Tangelo. Not everything’s a competition, you know.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bro.”

“Whatever, Tangelo.”

“Whatever yourself. I’m going upstairs to train.”

“What. . .who’s. . .”

“It’s just me, mom.”

“Seville?. . .what’s that pounding, sweetie?”

“T’s on the treadmill.”

“Oh. . .ok. You two should get to bed. . .”

Seville watched his mother as her words trailed off and she fell back into sleep. Seeing them together like this, so peaceful, Seville wondered what his own family would be like. He hoped his wife would love him as much as his mother loved his father. Hoped his children (there would be at least two, of that he was already sure) would love him the way he and his brothers loved their parents.

Obsidian stirred in his sleep and Seville automatically reached to soothe him. But most of all, he hoped he wouldn’t be like his father.

“Sweet dreams, dad,” he leaned down and kissed his father’s cheek. “I love you.”

Upstairs, Tangelo mentally counted his footfalls. Just a few more and. . .yes. . .he’d finally caught up to his brother. He’d had to work twice as hard but that only made it sweeter. Seville came by his athleticism naturally and had narrowed his interests to all things fitness and sports related very early in their childhood.

Tangelo cast a wider net.

Some skills proved quite tricky (and messy).

While others were simple and quite fun.

“And if you think I’m just some passive housewife you have another think coming you little. . .”

“WHAT? HUH?! You think I’m afraid of you. . .you. . .brood sow?”

Spying on the crazy neighbors was fun but Tangelo’s true passion was games.

All kinds of games.

“Tangelo, will you be done soon? I need to check my email. I’m waiting to hear back from an investor.”

Armando’s real life game seemed particularly interesting. At a very young age, Tangelo had taken a keen interest in first the movie poster and then, as he got older, the behind the scenes working of The Project. He marveled at Armando’s ability to juggle all his numerous friends and acquaintances, to get them excited about The Project despite how nothing in the way of progress ever seemed forthcoming.

“Armando. . .you think I should grow out my hair. . .you know, maybe get rid of the mohawk. . .”

“What? I thought you loved that crazy cock’s comb. . .”

“I’m with Tangelo, I thought the big orange fin was your trademark?,” Armando offered.

“Yeah but. . .maybe girls will like me more if I’m not so. . .you know, weird and stuff.”

“Girls? Seville, did you break up with. . .”

“No, but she kind of said something about. . .”

“You’re taking fashion advice from HER?,” Tangelo snorted.

Armando and Tangelo both laughed. Seville sighed.

“Just be YOU!” Armando offered, wrestling laughter from Seville.

“Listen to him, man,” Tangelo added. “Everyone loves his furry ass!”

“I always knew you’d be the one,” Obsidian bellowed laughter. “Didn’t I say it, Tiff, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Yes, I did. The first time I saw you looking at the poster I said it. And I was right.”

Always too worried it would set his father off Tangelo had never broached the topic of The Project with Obsidian until now. Seeing his father so excited, so happy to discuss it, Tangelo was eager to make Obsidian’s goal his own.

And it was a good way to mix business and pleasure.

Though it was more than a little nerve racking.

Just be you, he reminded himself.

He’d wanted to grab Orlando from the minute he’d first laid eyes on him. He liked the way the other boy protested just enough to make it seem like he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I gotta go, man,” Orlando stammered.

“Yeah.” Tangelo took a deep breath as he continued. “It’s kind of late. I’ll walk out with you.”

“I hope to see you again. . .”

“Definitely.”

Tangelo followed Orlando down the stairs and watched as he put distance between himself and the Tecza home.

“Don’t stay out here too long,” he taunted, approaching his brother. “Some pervy alien’ll take your virginity.”

“If you want the telescope all you have to do is ask,” Seville shot back. “I know you’re all obsessed with losing it.”

“Hardly,” Tangelo laughed. “And the odds are better for you. You’re out here like every night.”

“I call bullshit,” Seville snipped. “If that whole the more you look the greater your odds thing was true, dad would have been snatched a long time ago. Probably Armando, too. Hell, maybe even MOM.”

“Aliens don’t take chicks,” Tangelo countered.

“More bullshit. Didn’t you hear about Mrs. Kim?”

“You believed that?,” Tangelo laughed as they crossed the yard and ascended the stairs. “That was totally made up, for publicity. That whole family is just a bunch of washed up old D-list celebrities.”

“Yeah, but they still get paid for that show they did.”

“Yeah,” Tangelo sighed. “Shame Justin’s all about the girls.”

That very night, as if they had somehow overhead the Tecza twins’ conversation.

No one witnessed him leave.

But they were waiting when he returned.

Armando watched as Obsidian groaned and slowly got to his feet. Behind him, he could hear Tiffany mutter.

“please, no”

It was like she was reading his mind.

“Well,” Obsidian sighed. “That was. . .,” he touched his rear delicately, “. . .different.”

Behind him Armando heard Tiffany snicker. Seeing Obsidian smile as he drew closer, Armando smiled back.

“They boldly went where no one has gone before,” Obsidian added with a roar of laughter.

They stood in the front yard for what seemed a very long time and laughed. Still giggling, they filed back into the house to start the day.

“Oh. . .Obsidian. . .,” Tiffany tried to monitor the macaroni and comfort her husband simultaneously. “It’s ok. . .it’ll be done in a second. . .”

She watched him as he quietly wept. The joking was officially over.

“I’m sorry,” he gulped. “I’m not really hungry. . .I’m just. . .tired.”

He left the kitchen without another word leaving Tiffany with a perfectly cooked pot of pasta and no one to feed. She took her time tending to the meal, certain her husband had run to the solace of his coffin.

She was shocked to learn she was wrong.

Silently scolding herself for taking so long to check on him, she smoothed back his shaggy hair and whispered into his ear.

“I’m sorry.”

With the children off at school and her husband asleep, Tiffany was left with only a quiet house.

And Armando.

To the casual observer it was one small kiss. Just a casual peck between friends.

Acutely aware of what they were risking, both knew the quick closed-lip kiss was the climax of their romance.

Their family was more important.

“It’s kind of weird, huh?,” Obsidian shivered as Tiffany put her hand against his stomach.

“Kind of. . ,” she smiled as she felt the fetus shift, “. . .yeah.”

Tiffany was convinced she was more freaked out by the alien offspring rooted inside her husband than he was. Another baby?

It seemed like they had just gotten Bittersweet out of the hectic toddler stage and now they were faced with starting all over again from scratch. And they just weren’t as young as they once were.

“Hey, who are you and what did you do with my little brother?”

“It’s ME, Tangelo.”

“Me who?”

“Bittersweet.”

“No way, man. When did you get big?”

Bittersweet adored his older brothers but, if forced to choose just one, Tangelo would be his pick. Tangelo talked about things Bittersweet knew their parents would consider “too adult” for him. Even better, he explained them. It made Bittersweet quite popular at school, the kid all the others sought out to learn the newest dirty word or bawdy joke.

“. . .and it comes out his butt?”

“Yup.”

“Ewww.”

“Remember, don’t say anything about it around dad.”

“How come?”

“Because it will make him sad.”

While young Bittersweet was fascinated by the mechanics of his father’s pregnancy, Tangelo and Seville were tuned in to the larger repercussions it would have on both Obsidian and the family as a whole.

“Oh, I thought you were both up. . .” Seville looked from his father to where his mother lay sleeping.

“She’s very special, you know that?”

Seville nodded.

“I hope you and your brothers each find someone just like her. . .someone special.”

Tiffany stirred.

“What’s going. . .Obsidian are you ok?”

Obsidian was ok. Better than he had been in quite sometime.

Even when it caught him off guard, he handled the embarrassment with ease.

Very few tears were shed.

But Tiffany still worried. How could she not? Obsidian’s due date was rapidly approaching. She only hoped her sons would be out of the house when it happened.

She could only be so lucky.

“Dad. . .are you. . .oh, oh is he. . .oh. . .I can’t look.”

“Obsidian. . .it’s ok, Seville.”

“Did I miss it. . .Seville, you look really pale. . .”

“Is it over? I couldn’t look.”

“It’s ok, guys. Obsidian, are you ok?”

“Dad, is it a boy or a girl?”

“Girl.”

“A girl? I have a sister? Whatcha gonna name her?”

Obsidian took his time answering.

“Cara Cara,” he cooed, propping the baby against his shoulder.

Tangelo watched as Armando and Tiffany went into action. Armando carefully watched his father with the baby while Tiffany set to work preparing a bottle.

“Do you want me to take her?,” she offered, handing the bottle to Obsidian. He shook his head.

“No, I’m ok. You get some breakfast.”

“I told you it would be a girl,” Tangelo taunted Bittersweet. “You owe me a simoleon.”

“No way, man.”

“Yes way, man. You can’t skip out on the bet. . .”

“You made a bet on the gender of the baby?”

Obsidian heard the sound of his family’s banter but didn’t register the words. He was overwhelmed.

His family.

“. . .and she wants to go steady but I’m not sure. . .”

They were growing up so fast.

His eyes rimming with tears, he held the new baby close and exited without a word.

They were having such a good time it wouldn’t be fair to ruin it.

CONTINUED IN PART 3.

Tecza (Round Robin) Legacy: Generation 3: Black

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 23:40:57 GMT

Bit o' background. The Tecza family is a combined Round Robin and Awesimsauce Legacy. So, each generation is handled by a different player who abides by the Awesimsauce rules.

Generation 3 of the Tecza family is lead by Obsidian Tecza (color scheme: black). He will usher in generation 4 (color scheme: orange). You have been warned (you may want to put on sunglasses when we get to the orange, it's VERY orange). Also, this may put you in a Halloween-ey mood. BONUS.

Ok, without further blather, I give you:

The Tecza Legacy: Generation 3: Obsidian Tecza

They will always find me.

He smiled at the thought, knowing that when they stopped searching for him, stopped caring enough to hunt him down and pound on the door to his home, he had finally lost it.

Celebrity.

He had, he reminded himself as he rose from the water and felt the full burn of the sun’s light on his skin, single handedly resurrected the all but dead “Dusk to Dawn” movie series. All it had ever needed, he had argued, was a return to its roots. Just pick up the original stories that, in the decades since their writing, had been coated in layers of farce to become the warped and ridiculous series everyone had come to regard as a joke. So many actors had taken on the role of Agent 1260 but none had ever captured the essence of Gabriel Saint Clair, gifted spy and lover, until Obsidian Tecza had appeared.

Stunning. Magnificent. Masterpiece. All words used to describe Obsidian’s debut in “Won’t Last A Day Without You”. He not only captured the brooding intensity of Saint Clair but he had that extra something, some type of deeper understanding of the character, bringing the very essence of Saint Clair’s Vampire heritage to the surface.

Obsidian reprised the role in “When the Glitter Fades in Mourning” and, to the adoration of the fans and shock of the critics, took the character to an entirely different level. Simply put, Obsidian Tecza WAS Gabriel Saint Clair.

Was.

With his reputation and the box office receipts at their highest, Obsidian had shocked the film world. Despite the offer to star in four more pictures, Obsidian had turned down the deal. When asked the obvious “why?” he offered only:

“You haven’t seen the last of me.”

And they hadn’t.

Obsidian was keenly aware that the vampire trend was cresting. While he could ride the wave into shore, holding on until the bitter end, it was better to leave at his peak and move to the next cresting wave.

It would take a lot of work but he was young and unfettered. And determined to make the public love his new project as much as they loved the re-vamped “Dusk to Dawn” series.

Fueled by the love he still felt pour from the fan sites, Obsidian nodded to the small promotional piece he had commissioned and read aloud:

“Obsidian Tecza is PETER STUBB”

He pushed back from the computer and, with a final nod and smile to the small cardboard stand-up, took the rear staircase down to the yard.

This would be the last night he, Obsidian Tecza, would stare up at the heavens as a vampire. The thought made him giddy and terrified. It was the first major step toward his next transformation but it also meant shedding, quite literally, his past. A tear dripped into the telescope’s eyepiece, blearing out the night sky.

“She’s ok,” he whispered.

Ebony. His sister. She was ok. And always would be thanks to the money Obsidian had made as Gabriel Saint Clair. She would never want for anything. Except her brother. But, he rationalized as he attempted to dry the eyepiece, did she really even know him or anyone since. . .she still couldn’t speak even the smallest of words and only had the most basic of grasps on how to tend to her own needs. Whatever affection she was capable of feeling was surely superficial, like the generic love offered by a perpetually happy dog.

He had done right by Ebony. She would latch onto one of her many caregivers. And most importantly, she’d never have another run in with over zealous paparazzi. That one brush. . .Obsidian shuddered at the memory. It was one too many. With Obsidian physically removed from Ebony, she would be safe. Safe to live whatever type of life she could, confined as she was inside the limitations of her undead body.

The eyepiece finally dried, Obsidian no longer felt like gazing heavenward.

It was time.

“You are aware of what you are about to do?,” she asked one last time.

Obsidian laughed. Claire was one of those old dyed in the wool worry warts. She reminded him of his father. A little.

“I’m moving on to bigger and better things,” he replied.

Claire seemed doubtful.

“Don’t take this as some kind of good faith gesture. This is as far as I go in the way of investing,” she chided as she produced the bottle. “Oh, and it may have a laxative effect,” she added. “So don’t stray too far from the pot, got it?”

Obsidian nodded as he first stared at, then accepted, the glowing bottle.

“I have. . .,” Claire waved her hand as if she was dispersing gnats, “. . .things. If you have any issues, call the number on the back of the bottle.” Obsidian turned the bottle and noted the number for poison control. “But remember, if they ask where you got it, you don’t know my name, capisce?” Obsidian nodded and watched as Claire disappeared into the night.

Not for the first time in his life, Obsidian Tecza partook of something he was not entirely sure he understood. But, as he had been when he drank from that dark vile so many years ago, he was convinced the glowing syrup he now ingested would give him just what he wanted.

They syrup coated his mouth and throat and pooled in his stomach. His mind flashed back to Claire’s warning, “laxative effect” and he shot a sideways glance toward the bathroom door, hoping that would be the worst thing he would suffer. His stomach did clench but all he produced was a sour burp. Then, the shaking started. It was like his insides had been frozen, rendering him unable to keep himself warm. He shivered and twitched as his skin erupted in gooseflesh. His bowels felt weak and over-full and, in a sudden burst, the crippling cold was replaced by a heat he had never (even when the sun had hit his delicate vampire flesh) felt in his life. He bowels tightened and he looked longingly toward the bathroom door, unable to move. Still not in control of his body, he emitted a horn blast of gas that made him jump and then it was over.

He was cured.

And ready to undertake the next step in his plan.

Still shaky from his experience with Claire’s syrup, he retired to the close comfort of his coffin bed and slept. The cab would arrive early and he would need to be as fresh as possible.

The driver kept glancing at Obsidian in the review mirror but never asked what Obsidian knew he wanted to know. Obsidian smiled and nodded but never having been given to small talk said nothing. The ride was shorter than he had anticipated and peacefully silent.

Arriving earlier than expected, he was at a loss for what to do.

After many years of hiding from the sunlight, the unrelenting glare was quickly souring his mood. Embracing, as he was, the onset of a foul mood, he didn’t realize he was being spoken to.

“. . .you are, aren’t you?”

He glanced up from the fishing hook and smiled automatically.

“You ARE!”

She had a pretty face but an unfortunate lack of fashion sense. Not that it stopped Obsidian from fantasizing about what her body looked like under the flannel and denim or how flexible she could become in a moment of passion. The hook stabbed into the pad of his thumb and he winced. A drop of blood swelled up from the skin and Obsidian felt his stomach growl.

“You want to get some lunch? They have great pot pies over at the. . .,” she trailed off as Obsidian slipped his thumb into his mouth and sucked.

Not bothering to ask her to join, Obsidian made his way to the small snack stand and ordered. The cook gave him the same, “is it?” look as the others and blushed. She served him quickly but never once asked. Obsidian watched her as he ate, again fantasizing about her naked form and her sexual abilities. With a full stomach and a pleasant tingle in his groin, Obsidian left a healthy tip and excused himself.

“It’s REALLY him. . .”

He smiled at the eager whispering. While he needed to stay focused on his goals, that didn’t mean he had to completely forego any and all fun, did it? He’d let word get around and then take his pick of the litter.

But first he needed to nap (perhaps after taking care of the tingling in his groin). Nightfall would come soon and he needed to be well rested.

“Arrive on foot under the cover of night.”

It was the only instruction he had been given and he followed it.

Years of rising at dusk and prowling the dark had sharpened his night vision. Not that he needed it. The moon and stars shone down from the unobstructed mountain sky, lighting his way more than enough. It was a long and confusing walk over a path that at more than one point disappeared completely only to reappear in dusty starts and stops. Despite the challenges, he arrived with only a few snags on his silk jacket.

“Is that a phone out there?,” he asked, shock and disgust coating his words. “You mean I could have just. . .” He stopped himself as he noticed the look on the other. . .sim’s?. . .face.

“Sorry, so sorry,” he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean to step off on the wrong foot.” He took a deep breath and started again. “I’m Obsidian Tecza and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance mister. . .”

The other sim slowly looked him up and down then grunted.

“No mister,” he growled. “Armando.” Obsidian nodded and offered his hand. Armando looked at it then turned toward the pond. “Fish,” he nodded, retrieving a rod from the ground. Obsidian looked around for another pole but saw none.

“Oh, I didn’t realize. . .”

“Then goodnight, Mister Tecza,” Armando offered, never turning his attention from the pond.

Obsidian stared. He was being dismissed. Dismissed by a. . .a. . .he wasn’t even really sure WHAT except. . .except he needed this Armando. Really NEEDED him. He turned and took the mysterious path back to the campground.

He was too annoyed to sleep, so set to fishing in the pond. It would be good practice, he noted, for tomorrow night. That. . .Armando. . .wouldn’t shake him that easily.

The next morning he was once again faced with the expanse of daylight hours he needed to wile away before he could return to Armando’s shack in the woods.

“Mmm, I do love this fresh mountain air.”

Her eyes widened as she slowly realized who was speaking to her.

“Or is that your delicious perfume?”

Word had indeed spread around the campground, making even his third string pick up lines sound as smooth as his (now snagged) silk jacket.

He happily spent the day smooth talking both tourists and local women. He feigned interest as each confessed the same secrets, how they loved him and had a copy of his famous “white swimsuit” photo in their office cubicle/bedroom/displayed as their laptop wallpaper. As they giggled and blushed, he imagined each one nude and in differing sexual situations. A few hours before sundown, he excused himself with a wink and retired to his tent (alone) to rest up for his return hike to Armando’s shack.

Having warmed up his charm on the ladies, he returned to Armando with a fresh approach.

Armando showed a weakness for jokes. Obsidian trotted out his old favorites and even added in a few classic puns. Armando barked and howled, snorted and stamped his feet.

Then, they fished.

As night slowly shifted to the first inklings of morning, Obsidian made his move.

“. . .and with my huge box office appeal. . .”

Armando’s nostrils flared as if he was not just hearing Obsidian’s words, but smelling them, tasting them. He nodded slightly and, with just a hint of a smile, bid Obsidian adieu.

Obsidian left the way he had come this time far more comfortable on the Morse code like dots and dashes of path. He would be back and, he was sure, seal the deal. He had to. His scheduled vacation was just about up.

He arrived at the campground just as the sun snapped up the last morsels of darkness. His stomach urged him toward the snack stand for a tasty morsel of his own.

While she wasn’t dressed much better than any of the other women he’d met, she definitely stood out. Most noticeably she didn’t blush, wasn’t star struck.

“I kind of wondered if you weren’t some kind of weirdo, you know,” she rolled her eyes as she continued, “one of those goof balls who really THINKS they’re a vampire and files down their teeth to get them all pointy and stuff.” She pointed at Obsidian’s mouth and smiled. “But I see your teeth all look pretty normal. And you ARE out in the sun, right?” She laughed. “So you want some flapjacks?”

Obsidian did. They sat at the counter and he waited for her to introduce herself. The flapjacks had arrived and she had tucked into her plate when Obsidian finally had to ask.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” she replied quickly. “I never introduce myself first.” She chewed and swallowed. “What if you HAD been one of those goof balls?”

Obsidian didn’t know what to say.

“Tiffany,” she offered, tapping her fork against his. “I’d invite you along on my nature hike but you’re going to want to sleep huh?”

Obsidian nodded.

“Yeah,” she laughed. She speared the last bit of her flapjack and wiped it around the plate, collecting the last bits of syrup. “You found him, didn’t you.” She didn’t look at him, just popped the bite of food into her mouth and, still chewing rose from her stool.

Obsidian didn’t have time to reply. Tiffany had, in one smooth motion, left enough cash for her portion of the meal (plus tip) and, with a wave, left him to finish his meal.

That evening, refreshed from his afternoon nap and still thinking about Tiffany, Obsidian took the path back to Armando’s shack.

“This just screamed Armando,” he laughed, offering the professionally wrapped gift. Armando took it and, after carefully removing the wrap, admired the new top of the line reel.

After the sincere words of thanks, few words were spoken. Armando set up the new reel and together he and Obsidian fished.

The moon trod its path across the sky, exiting to allow the sun its time on the celestial stage and still they fished.

With daylight fully upon them, the silence was finally broken with a bark. Armando braced his feet on the bank and fought with the fish on the end of his line. Sunlight glinted off the new reel as Obsidian watched Armando wrestle a fish from the water.

“HAH,” Armando barked again. He held the fish aloft, a large smile spread over his face. He removed the hook from the fish’s lip and, with one final admiring look, knelt and slipped it back into the water.

“She’ll tell her children about the new reel,” he offered. “The next inhabitant of this cabin will have quite a time in this pond, to be sure.”

Obsidian straightened. Next inhabitant? Had he heard correctly? He opened his mouth to ask but found he had no air to speak.

He was visibly rattled by Armando’s sudden display of excitement (and, dare he say it, affection?).

“So?,” he offered when he finally had found his composure.

“So,” Armando repeated, “let’s make a movie.”

In a haze of excitement, Obsidian made his arrangements with Armando (who insisted on finding his own way to Obsidian’s home in the hills between Simsburgh and Bluewater Village) then checked himself out of the campground early.

Armando was waiting for him when he arrived home. While curious about the particulars of how Armando had made his way to Obsidian’s home (and what Armando had to do that Obsidian couldn’t be a part of), Obsidian never asked.

Still reeling with the excitement, Obsidian, shears in hand, set about preparing himself for his new role.

While it was a far cry from what he would ultimately have to become, shedding the long hair of his former self felt good. And no longer having to shave (or shaving very infrequently) was a very welcome (if a bit itchy) change.

But some things were harder to shake. Obsidian still craved the claustrophobic warmth of his coffin, the reassuring click of the lid sealing him in, the damp smell of his own breath falling back onto him as he drifted to sleep.

“Don’t drink out of the carton, man. I’m tired of pouring hairs out onto my cereal.”

After establishing a few ground rules, life with Armando settled into a comfortable routine. Armando was, much like Obsidian, not given to small talk. He saved his breath for the potential investors.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again, my dear. . .”

Some nuts were harder to crack than others.

Obsidian was also busy wooing his own type of investor.

Just as Obsidian was sure he would, Armando had pulled a few strings and arranged a meeting between Obsidian and the head of a very powerful group.

The meeting went well, giving Obsidian hope that a future meeting would occur. Armando couldn’t make any promises but agreed that, from what Obsidian had described, it sounded as if a friendship had blossomed.

But it wasn’t all work and no play.

Armando had introduced Obsidian to a new and very relaxing hobby.

But even with keeping busy wooing various investors and indulging in hobbies, old demons soon found Obsidian.

While concerned over Obsidian’s mental state, Armando kept his distance, assuming it was just the flighty nature of the actor coming through.

Obsidian tried to chase after his wants.

But he always found himself just shy of what he really craved, getting a flirt when he wanted to dance, or a (admittedly fun) roll in the sheets when he craved a simple date.

History was repeating itself, forcing Obsidian down the road of “what if?”. What if he’d never sipped that potion in the glittering black bottle? What if his father had paid more attention to the family? What if. . .he’d just never been born at all?

Armando continued to woo investors all while maintaining a good standing in the close knit Adventuring community. It was the best route to getting different things they may need to bring The Project (as they had begun referring to it) to fruition.

Armando’s days of dodging Obsidian’s abrupt mood swings were numbered.

He thought Obsidian was tucked into his coffin bed when he awoke to the feel of a body pressing against him, followed by a voice muffled by his fur covered shoulder.

“I’m never going to be happy.”

Armando didn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He shifted lightly, hoping to let Obsidian know he was awake, to give his roommate an out if he didn’t really want to be clinging to him like a baby orangutan holding tight to its mother’s back. Obsidian shifted with him, tightening his grip as he buried his face deeper into Armando’s shoulder.

Armando stayed awake as Obsidian told him about his emotionally absent father, his sweet sister turned into something from a nightmare, and his own death and resurrection as the sim the world had come to know as Gabriel Saint Clair. Unburdened of his past and drained from talking and crying, Obsidian finally fell into a heavy sleep. Armando waited until the last possible minute to slip from the bed and off to his appointed rounds.

“I’ve seen a lot of beautiful sight in my travels but NOTHING beats that.”

Armando was relieved when a new woman appeared in Obsidian’s life. Not that he wouldn’t try to comfort his friend (even if that comfort made him feel more than a little bit awkward) but both knew Armando didn’t offer all the things Obsidian needed.

“The new guy told me you did it. . .that you got Armando. . .that’s his name, right?. . . to agree.”

Tiffany seemed to know a lot more about. . .well, everything. . .than either Obsidian or Armando were aware.

“Oh, Obsidian, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s ok. You know that.”

“And you know something else? I think I’m falling for you.”

Fall they did. First into bed and then into love. And without any fanfare, Tiffany Yang became a resident of 13 Bluewater Blvd, Simsburgh.

They were inseparable.

Tiffany was relentless in her pursuit of Obsidian’s happiness. She would lure him from the depths of his despair and haul him into the light of happiness. But she could only keep Obsidian out of the murky depths for so long before he slipped back under the surface. It was a painful catch and release program that only she was strong enough to play for an extended amount of time.

Like Obsidian, when she needed to truly shut out the world she sought the confines of the coffin bed. Safely inside, she could cry or curse, worry and laugh like a lunatic and no one would know. It was Obsidian’s comfort and Tiffany’s confessional.

Buried in the likeness of Obsidian’s depression, she was raised to walk in the newness of life.

Obsidian was shocked.

But agreed to the proposal.

Afterward, Tiffany wondered if he wasn’t just acting. If perhaps he wasn’t bankrupting his own happiness for the sake of hers. She, of all sims, understood the conflicting feeling both the engagement and impending baby brought. She herself was both excited and afraid. But when, as she lay in the coffin bed crunching the numbers, she realized the want column totaled higher than the fear, she was ready to make the commitment.

“Let’s do it now,” Obsidian said, a manic wildness shining in his eyes. Tiffany hesitated. “Yes, you say yes, Tiffany. Then, after, when the baby comes out. . .,” he gestured wildly with the word. . . “he OR she will be legitimate. . .a Tecza.”

Tiffany shivered. For the first time since she had ever heard of Obsidian Tecza, she was scared. A Tecza. What did that mean for her baby?

She smiled and nodded.

“You’re right. I want the baby to be a Tecza,” she swallowed hard, “just like us.”

In a matter of hours, Obsidian had managed to secure not only guests but entertainment and refreshments.

Seeing him acting as the dj, Tiffany’s happiness swelled. She danced to the music of Obsidian and for a few minutes enjoyed the role reversal.

Waiting for the guests to find their seats, Obsidian straightened his vest and tried not to look directly at Tiffany. Bathed in the pitch of night and wearing a costume lifted from the set of his last movie, Obsidian was convinced Tiffany would see it, that it would stain his eyes the red they were when he was a vampire. His fear.

Tiffany watched Obsidian do everything within his power not to look her directly in the eye. A less secure woman would have doubted her beauty or her fiance’s love. But Tiffany understood and was relieved. If Obsidian avoided her gaze, he’d never see her own fear huddled behind the meager cover of desire.

He reached for her hand and she took it.

True to form, few words were spoken. With the exchange of matching rings and “I love yous” the ceremony was complete.

The guests clapped and lingered for a moment before making their way back inside and to the buffet table. Armando approached, congratulations at the ready as Obsidian, dazed and slightly staggering, shuffled away from the wedding arch.

Tiffany noticed but was too caught up in her own swelling sense of lightheadedness.

“Are you ok?,” Armando reached a hand to steady her and she batted him away.

“I’m fine. ..”

“Well, this is just a mess. . .”

Tiffany started to turn, to give the garishly dressed guest a piece of her mind when she heard Armando bark and saw him lunge toward Obsidian.

“Obsidian. . .”

“See, I just KNEW he was all messed up, all the tabloids said so. I can’t wait to call. . .”

“No. . .,” Tiffany looked from her collapsed husband to the woman in the hideous dress. “No,” she repeated. The last thing her husband needed was some tart traumatizing him by making him the topic of idle gossip. Armando could support him this time. Tiffany pursued the guest into the house.

She caught her in the living room.

“Oh no, you’re not going to buy me off. I’m going to tell EVERYONE just how unstable he is. They deserve to know.”

Tiffany stepped close to the guest, close enough that her pregnant stomach brushed against the guest’s own flat midsection. A look of disgust washed over her pinched little face and Tiffany nearly laughed.

“You’ll keep your ugly little yap shut or I’ll get your last v.d. test results and post them on the internet.”

The guest recoiled with a sharp intake of breath.

“You wouldn’t. . .I mean. . .uh, so?”

Tiffany laughed.

“Get out of my house. And if I ever hear of you speaking about my family again, I will personally make you wish you had never been born.”

The woman huffed loudly but wasted not time finding her way to the door. Tiffany watched her go, then turned her attention to the side of the yard where Armando was dusting off Obsidian. Obsidian turned and, through a gauze of exhaustion, smiled at Tiffany. She smiled back.

“Come on,” she gestured. “It’s time to cut the cake.”

Obsidian gently cut the cake and carefully fed Tiffany a bite. He moved like his limbs were tangled in filament. Tiffany wasn’t the only one to notice.

After the cake, Armando diligently escorted each guest from the house, using Tiffany’s pregnancy as an excuse for the truncated celebration.

Tiffany was happy to offer the out. Too rattled to yet feel tired, she waddled around the house collecting plates and storing leftovers. When she had finally burned off her nervous energy, she climbed into the coffin bed with a sigh of relief.

It had never been a secret that her husband sought solace in his business partner turned friend. Tiffany was happy there was someone to help with the responsibility. Inside the satin lined confines of the coffin, she stroked her swollen belly and hoped there would be enough of her. . .and Armando. . .to go around.

Their rest was short-lived. Just before lunch the next day, the house was filled with the howls of Tiffany’s labor.

Armando watched as Tiffany delivered a baby boy into the world. And the baby’s father collapsed to the ground, still too fragile to cope.

Tiffany turned to introduce the new arrival and yelped as another pain gripped her. Armando stared as she doubled over in pain and gently placed her first born on the floor.

He watched as Tiffany announced the arrival of a second son, amid the clucks and rooster calls of his father, desperately trying to come to terms with these new events.

Obsidian scratched at the floor, jutting his head forward and back. With one final loud squawk, he shook hands with an imaginary someone and smiled out at the room. He looked from where Tiffany held her second born son to their mewling first born, calling up from the floor. Without hesitation, Obsidian stooped and plucked his son from the floor.

“Two boys,” Tiffany offered. “The old wives tales were right.”

Obsidian laughed and propped the baby up to his shoulder.

“So what about names?,” he asked. His voice was clear and calm the sound of the Obsidian Tecza Armando had met in the woods so long ago.

After first bottles and burpings, names were settled on and both children were introduced to their new room, a full story addition that had been added shortly before the ill-fated nuptials.

“Your mommy and daddy love you very much,” Armando whispered to each in turn.

He sat down opposite their cribs and watched them as they slept.

Seville and Tangelo Tecza.

Sounds of passionate lovemaking drifted up from the floor below and Armando pondered the resilience of the female anatomy. While it embarrassed him more than a bit to hear the sounds, he was relieved to know Obsidian was getting the special comfort only Tiffany could offer. He also whispered a silent prayer that no more children would result.

Confident the babies were comfortable and content (and hearing no more sounds from Tiffany and Obsidian’s shared room) Armando ventured down to the second floor.

He was tired and could use some time to himself.

The next morning brought with it more changes.

Tiffany smoothed her skirt and sighed. Behind her, Armando emerged from the coffin bed and smiled. She smiled back and gave a little laugh.

“It just feels. . .,” she shook the hem of the skirt and made the beading dance, “. . .right.”

Armando nodded and moved toward the bedroom door to begin his morning preparations. As the door cracked open they were greeted by the sounds of sobbing. Obsidian was awake.

In what seemed a very short time, change was upon them again.

Déjà vu.

Obsidian paced as Tangelo looked up from the floor. Armando’s low whining sigh gave way to a congratulatory bark as Seville became a toddler.

“Oh,” Obsidian sighed. Startled into action by the burst of light, he moved quickly to retrieve the remaining baby from the floor and take him to a second waiting cake.

Obsidian stayed like that for quite some time, holding Tangelo to him and staring past the boy to something no one else in the family would ever see. Slowly, Armando approached and gently touched his friend’s elbow. Like a stage curtain being lifted, the Obsidian he had met in those distant woods appeared once again.

“He definitely has his mother’s eyes,” he remarked. “Handsome boy, my Tangelo. He’s going to break hearts.” He tickled the boy until he squealed. “Aren’t you. . .gonna win over all the ladies, huh?”

CONTINUED IN PART 2.

And now I understand why people snap and open fire on the public

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 03:35:22 GMT

Really, I do.

Ever have one of those days/evenings/nights when you you just revel in the thought of opening fire on any and everything that annoys you. I mean really going all-bad-Hollywood-movie-hog and just shooting up the place?

Yeah, I had that.

Granted, I'm the biggest puss on the planet so no one was ever in danger of more than, MAYBE, hearing a muffled yell coming from inside my house but DAMN if I didn't fantasize about going ape shit. Real wrath of Hulk type shit.

Like most breaks with reality, it started simply enough.

I couldn't get my bike trainer to work. Really, it's just about the simplest machine on the planet and my dumb pudding self could NOT get it to work. Joking aside, I sat on my fat ass for TWENTY MINUTES turning this damn knob and NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING (the knob is supposed to bring the trainer wheel up to the bike wheel, so you can--as would be expected, ride your bike with some resistance--you know, like you'd expect the trainer to work).

My master plan was simple. Set up the trainer and bike while I watched an episode of "Six Fee Under" (yeah, I'm painfully behind the cool curve--this should come as on surprise to anyone).

What happened was:

I got pissed.

I sent a text to my wife telling him I hated the bike trainer and gave up on it.

I sat on my fat ass and watched multiple episodes of "Six Feet Under" while sipping hard cider. (the first of which was interrupted by the racket of my trashy neighbors' car stereo, jacked to the max volume--really, if you want to blast your music, invest a fifty spot and buy a half way decent stereo that will actually pick up the radio station you're trying to hear, honestly).

After five ciders, I was no longer pissed.

Somewhere between cider five and six (six is my cutoff, at least now while my stereo is out of commission--when it's working all bets are off since solo fat girl dance party makes me lose track of my cider consumption) my wife returned home and, after approximately two nano-seconds of examining the trainer, figured out what the problem was and fixed it.

So now my trainer works (yes, I gave it a test ride, slightly buzzed and in my pjs and stocking feet--nice resistance, totally working as it should, dumb piece of crap) and my wife realizes (yet again) what a nut job he's saddled with FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE.

Bless his soul.