MediaWest 6 - There is NO Episode 6
Jun. 4th, 2001 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfateSaturday. I think. I steal the car and drive – “I’ll be there – FUCK YOU!!!” –to Target, because we’re having a baby shower for Amy in the afternoon, and I sort of need a present Real Soon. You remember Amy. Very, very pregnant feel-me Amy. In fact, Amy’s baby, little Thelma Louise (who by this time is sporting her own membership badge), actually dropped at some point on Friday. I’m not entirely sure what this dropping business entails, but apparently it’s rather startling to the maternal unit, and a sign that the sprog is moving into its little escape pod and if you haven’t bought a baby manual of some sort, you’d best start browsing Amazon.com for Episiotomies for Dummies. I was gonna go with a gift card, on the grounds that they’re handy and that Target is open late for those unexpected diaper missions, but made the mistake of actually looking at the…the cute little baby stuff. **squeal!** I am completely undone by the little shoes. I leave with a gift bag containing socks and bankies. I am a huge sucker.
Amy has gamely pretended to have no idea at all that we are preparing any sort of surprise (or she’s unbelievably thick), even when we all disappear to decorate the party suite and Jennie is leading her around on urgent yet surprisingly unnecessary errands to distract her. We deface the suite with crepe paper (I have to talk Sharon through hanging crepe paper – it is an alien concept for her) and balloons, and I find a nice hiding place under the bar which I am allowed to use for only a few seconds because the door opens and it’s time to yell surprise. Not too loudly, mind, because we don’t want any spontaneous birthin’ on a carpet that we can’t afford to replace. So…cake with that neato fake icing, baby and mommy prezzies, etc. You know the drill. No baby shower games. Thank you, thank you God, no baby shower games.
Susan still hasn’t gotten the software thingie sussed out, but has at last found actual humans to yell at, so we take this as a sign of progress. She has the laptop set up on her table now, and after a few more attempts to get my shiftless lazy-ass Sims to go out and get jobs (“I don’t want to look for a job right now. I’m too depressed.”), I decide that they have to die. I sell enough of their furniture and wall fixtures to build them a small swimming pool, then tell them to go out in the yard and swim. They like this a lot. Then I take away the pool’s ladder and add on hopeless maze-y bits. They love it. They swim around. Their fun quotient skyrockets. They earn body fitness points. Then they ask to go to bed. Then they sink beneath the water, and tiny tombstones pop up in the yard.
I sell the pool, and put their little stones in the side yard in hopes that Graeme and Martin Sim will one day come back to haunt the game, perhaps possessing Susan’s little Sim Mulder or Scully. Heh.
Amy has gamely pretended to have no idea at all that we are preparing any sort of surprise (or she’s unbelievably thick), even when we all disappear to decorate the party suite and Jennie is leading her around on urgent yet surprisingly unnecessary errands to distract her. We deface the suite with crepe paper (I have to talk Sharon through hanging crepe paper – it is an alien concept for her) and balloons, and I find a nice hiding place under the bar which I am allowed to use for only a few seconds because the door opens and it’s time to yell surprise. Not too loudly, mind, because we don’t want any spontaneous birthin’ on a carpet that we can’t afford to replace. So…cake with that neato fake icing, baby and mommy prezzies, etc. You know the drill. No baby shower games. Thank you, thank you God, no baby shower games.
Susan still hasn’t gotten the software thingie sussed out, but has at last found actual humans to yell at, so we take this as a sign of progress. She has the laptop set up on her table now, and after a few more attempts to get my shiftless lazy-ass Sims to go out and get jobs (“I don’t want to look for a job right now. I’m too depressed.”), I decide that they have to die. I sell enough of their furniture and wall fixtures to build them a small swimming pool, then tell them to go out in the yard and swim. They like this a lot. Then I take away the pool’s ladder and add on hopeless maze-y bits. They love it. They swim around. Their fun quotient skyrockets. They earn body fitness points. Then they ask to go to bed. Then they sink beneath the water, and tiny tombstones pop up in the yard.
I sell the pool, and put their little stones in the side yard in hopes that Graeme and Martin Sim will one day come back to haunt the game, perhaps possessing Susan’s little Sim Mulder or Scully. Heh.
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(no subject)
Date: 2001-06-04 09:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)