Dirty Sims Confessions

Alright, alright, I'm back.
I seriously love being a lazy bum inside when it's raining outside. Just being warm and cozy while the rain falls against the window and makes others miserably cold and wet is a wonderful feeling :). KIDDING. Rain = water = basis of life. RESPECT.

So whenever I play The Sims 3, I always make my male character a player. Like, romantically. Why? Why do I feel this need to make him cheat with every virtual female available to him?! I'm not a horny freak in real life, honest!
But I have reformed my sinful Simmy ways, and my latest Sim couple were wholly faithful and they had two sons and a daughter who grew up to be the best monogamous group of little pixels I've ever played with. And for some strange reason, I feel so much prouder and more accomplished that they have strong simulated relationships. I feel like a responsible creator :).

Yeah, I need to get out more. But! Extrapolating from my cyber experience, I think it's human nature to be promiscuous. We are animals after all, and most animals have two goals in life: stay alive, and hump as many of the opposite sex as possible. (Although some species do choose one partner for life... AWWWWW. Big hug.)

So I think it is definitely a conscious choice for us to be monogamous (thank you, highly developed cortex), since we have a greater sense of morality and consequences. I also think there is a very fulfilling aspect in being in a relationship that lasts, which is worth giving up the thrill of promiscuity for.

But that's my opinion, of course. And how I got to this profound stream of thought from playing a mind-numbing game (so addictive *cries*) is one for the ages.

K, bye.

Maggot Chocolate?!?

I snuck a piece of chocolate from the family chocolate box, and it happened to be the kind that has syrup in it (of a pear-ish flavour). When I opened the wrapper I found the chocolate had caved in to reveal the syrup which had crystallized to look like a colony of maggots.
So now it's lying beside me looking forlorn and dejected and I'm not sure if I can throw it out without feeling guilty. Because first of all, I'm sure it's still edible. And secondly, no girl in their right mind would throw out edible chocolate. However, its resemblance to infant beetles is limiting my options.
... I'll give it to my dad. He'll eat anything.

Also, have you ever been faced with sharing a chocolate box with other members of the household and trying to decide which one to eat? Because you don't want to mooch away all the good ones, but you don't feel like ripping off your taste buds when they are expecting luxury. Perhaps you try to balance out the box so that the remaining pieces create a pretty geometric design? Or you reason that you will eat in proportion to how many of each flavour is present?

These are the thoughts that pass through my mind when sharing confections. It is a challenging yet rewarding battle, the choosing of the chocolate. May the force be with you.

Psht, FREEZING is my middle name!

I've lived in Canada for 15.5 years and every single year, I completely underestimate how cold it becomes as winter approaches. I always assume that the transition between seasons is a subtle art that happens with a drop of one degree (Celsius) per day until it's just blatantly cold and winter-esque. Darn you, linear models, for not applying to reality!

I have this one jacket that I'm pretty sure was made solely for looking good and nothing else. I think the designer had a fabulous idea, but didn't realize we are situated near polar bear habitats, thereby including zero amounts of insulation inside. But because it is so stylin', I keep wearing it and figure if I concentrate hard enough, tufts of wool and cashmere will grow into the lining. And I figure if I look hot, heat will automatically be generated, bahaha.

As you may know, humans are mammals and we all have hair on our bodies, i.e. FUR. And let me tell you what a wonderful mechanism it is. After undergoing any hair removal procedure, I can literally feel a decline in body temperature. In light of such revelation, I would like to take this moment to appreciate my body fur for being a free and sustainable form of heat retention. Be green, be hairy!

Also, I have calculated that I smell the most vile after two days of not showering. I know ladies are generally assumed to smell like daisies and strawberry ice cream, but we too are capable of generating body odour. I've decided that it can be used as a superpower to deter anyone you choose! It's like a mosquito repellent but for humans!

I am not condoning smelling bad, just that it's a natural function, so don't worry about those days when flowers wilt as you walk by :).
On the flip side, cleaning yourself is also a highly enjoyable activity. I suggest taking note of how fulfilling it is to glide deodorant onto clean armpits.

Anyway. This is about as un-ladylike as I get, but I'm sure it is only adding to my charm... :|.

Peeved & Amazed (& a Foolish Boy)

So, there's a tree in our apartment. It is a beautiful tree that hits the ceiling and is pretty much bursting out of its pot in prosperity and abundance. It's my family's pride and joy, bringing tidings of a bright future and whatever else growth represents.
It really is a gorgeous tree (just for emphasis). Considering it's an indoor plant, I'm amazed at how strong and healthy it is. And as with all foliage, it is a fantastic air purifier and oxygen producer.

Anywhoo, so it is in its reproductive phase and bloomed beautiful white flowers that made my whole apartment smell like a botanical garden. But after a week, the flowers withered away, and as we all know from grade school biology, after flowers comes seeds and in the case of our tree, with seeds comes sap. SO MUCH SAP.

I have pretty much spent all day vacuuming seeds and scraping sap off the floor. AAARRRGGGHH. The problem is, there are enough seeds to replenish the Amazon so I'm on the verge of giving up.
Surprisingly, I'm more in awe of how wonderful life is and how it has its ways of carrying on. A plant rooted in one spot for its entire lifetime (generally) is able to spread its progeny to such a phenomenal extent. It's so cool!!!!!!!

I love biology. UH-MAZING.

Also, my current crush is officially cut because I realized that he was never very friendly to begin with. And as I told my friend in outrage, a man who doesn't make a person feel welcome and important is not a man at all!

OMGWTF.

If you are a man (or woman, or any squeamish sex), the following may cause psychological discomfort. It is about what goes down once a month with the girls (think blood + orifice). Catch my drift? So you have been warned. Okay, yay!

I bought a menstrual cup today (Diva Cup, to be exact) because I have enough flow to literally represent the Red Sea. In summary, a menstrual cup is a silicone/latex oval-shaped cup with a stem (looks like a funnel) that is inserted into the vagina to collect menstrual fluid. During the day you take it out, dump out the contents, and put it back in. Advantages include not having to worry about leakage (i.e. external bleeding), and reusability among others.

Okay, people. Step one: insert cup into vajayjay. Being the excited kind of person I am, I wanted to stick it in there right away. HELLO, vaginal resistance. After the first ten failed attempts to get it in (and yes, I followed instructions) I considered that I was actually not a woman, but an asexual human-shaped creature of the deep.

I came out of the shower shaking from my ordeal. But I was determined to try again after rereading the user's manual, so I went back in there and tried possibly every position in the Kama Sutra (minus the man) to no avail. GRRRR. I almost had it in there a couple times, but it didn't last. (That's what she said.)

Now I'm sitting here with my innards burning a little. In good news, I know why it didn't work. Seeing as I don't usually do this (ever), my canal is tense like it's about to write a Calc exam.

So the plan is that next time I try, I'm going to think of Daniel Radcliffe waiting for me in a bathtub filled with bubbles on which rose petals gently float with vanilla-scented candles flickering lustily. :D

Goodnight!

A Lost Art... Already??

Sometimes I read books just so I can reassure myself that reading is still a major pastime of the general population.
Not going to deny it, I can't keep my hands off my computer for more than an hour. It's an eternal bond like that formed by superglue that keeps me coming back to watch YouTube, chat with the buds, watch YouTube, incessantly stare at my Facebook screen until somebody makes me feel loved, watch more videos until my outdoorsman spirit is crushed into a video-flavoured milkshake, etc. etc.
But books are just a whole other level of entertainment. Something your mind can make of it what it wants. The story is in place, the visuals are all up to where your imagination takes you. (YAY for being cheesy!)
I just hope that all these pages don't get drowned out by everything else that's out there. I'm really glad and proud of my circle of friends for reading, even in our early twenties when we are at our sexual primes and should be hitting on men in bars.
So anyway, reading is cool. And what that has to do with my intro post is that now you have something to read! MUAHAHA. See how smoothly I led up to that ;).
In conclusion, I'm a grandma. And grandma says crack open that book, son!