We now have a second floor - the observation deck! I've moved the telescope up there and bought a beautician's desk. I thought at the time that it might be good for charisma, but it just does the same thing as the makeover station. Shame. I'll expand the second floor later, when I can think of something to make the Crombies want to go up there.
The front of the house has been quite bare for a while now. Some park benches will be a nice addition, I think.
And to finish, a dining table on the balcony to replace the telescope. A barbeque neatly complements the set-up.
Look at its glorious three-storey magnificence. I'll just save now, and then begin Day Fifteen. Tum te tum, come on, why aren't you doing anything?
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
After restarting the computer and swearing at length, I carefully reconstruct my lost work.
Oh, and apparently Catriona wants a DJ mixing desk so I put one in the music room.
The day begins with yet more Catriona-abuse as Pyke viciously stabs her in the chest. Pyke's beginning to get a little obsessive about this. I didn't mention it, but yesterday she actually went upstairs with the sole intent of poking Catriona.
Pyke continues to repeatedly poke Catriona and shout at her for the next hour.
'I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!'
'Fairies don't exist! Tinkerbell is dead! She divorced twice, has an estranged daughter, and she lived in Hull before a long history of alcohol abuse put her six feet under!'
'No... NO!'
The assault only ends when Catriona leaves for work. Leave those sore memories behind and bitch to your colleagues, that's the way it works.
I wonder... does Scott have some sort of mind-control machine? Sending out radio waves built by alien technology to alter the perceptions and thoughts of our Crombies while they sleep?
'Jack... Jaaaaaaack... send two hundred simoleons to this address... er... next door... go right on leaving the house... it's got a black roof, you can't miss it... how do you turn this thing off? No, wait, no- I've got it-' CLICK
CLICK '-oh, and don't wash the toilet under any circumstance.' CLICK
CLICK 'NOOREEN SMELLS LIKE FLOWERS EEEEEEEE' CLICK
Our resident Mozart once again takes to the ivories. In two short weeks, you too can become a virtuoso!
A full-length mirror. That improves charisma, right? Right?
No, Pyke, the invisible tipster imps did not leave you any simoleons. The fact that you're the only one awake didn't prevent you from thinking that maybe, MAYBE, somehow, someone had approved of your music, which lasted all of five minutes, enough to put some money in the jar without even entering the room?
Why can't they just play? I still think it's obscene to put out a tips jar every time you decide to practice. If I did this whenever I was practising on my keyboard, everyone would think I was mad.
The lift has its first journey! Nooreen declares staircases to be old-pat. If no-one ever uses them, I might remove them and put something else in its place.
'HOLY APRICOTS, A MAGIC DOOR!'
Why is Nooreen going upstairs anyway, you might ask? Well, I think it's high time she used the still-remaining station: the floral station, a must-have for all budding florists.
Octopuses always have a soft spot for daisies.
Wow, this is the most boring thing ever. Nooreen is shuffling the flowers about, occasionally making tutting noises and frowning.
Woooooooooow! Those daisies have been arranged! I'm so inspired, I am moved to write a small poem.
Ode To Daisies
O Daisies, Daisies O' Love,
The juxtaposition and angular tilt of your petals appeal to me,
And your vase is quite neat.
O Daisies, when will the pain ever stop?
Hmm, went a bit emo towards the end, but everyone's a critic. Let's carry on.
I put the new artwork on a little pedestal next to Jack's bathroom door.
Wow... just look at the way the stems catch the light... excuse me. I just can't stop thinking about how amazingly arranged those flowers are.
Nooreen expresses her disgust with my choice of end-table. I don't think I've once seen any of the Crombies actually LIKE something I put in the house. Also, she got the colour wrong. I feel rather insulted. It's quite hurtful when these small virtual people utterly reject everything I give them.
'They thought I was mad, Toffee, mad, but one day they'll look at my motor-powered nectarines and see I was right all along, oh yes, right all along... right... all... along.'
Oh, neat, I wonder who it is this time.
This is Brandon Lillard, yet another computer-generated sim. Three... two... one...
INSTANT GUEST NEGLECTION!
And no, I don't know why she's lounging on a park bench the minute she returns home from work.
'Come on, Toffee, I'm going to teach you how to walk! Left then right! Left then right!'
... Toffee, why won't you walk?'
Maybe he just needs a good hug.
'Hello, I am Brandon Lillard. I like naked ladies. If I had a crystal ball I would use it to look at you when you are naked.'
'Want to bowl?'
'I only play strip bowling.'
'Excuse me ma'am, could you direct me to the nearest lamppost? A friend of mine left a message for me, but I do seem to have lost my way.'
'Begone, foul beast, begone from my sights.'
'Ma'am, I am compelled to sink my fangs into your bottom, please remain where you are to facilitate this transaction of tooth to flesh.'
'NEVAR!'
Have you ever had one of those moments where you're being chased by a vicious dog and suddenly you're all like 'HOLY CRAP I WANT TO PLAY TETRIS' so you whip out your trusty GameBoy and the canine is so bewildered by you stopping dead in your tracks that it screeches to a halt and stares at you?
Yeah, me too.
'Toffee, I love you, but not walking makes me want to cry.'
'Nooreen, you're a nice person.'
'Oh, why thank you!-'
'Maybe you can help me get my toffee stick to stand up.'
'...'
Jack and Nooreen are best friends!
'I once had a goldfish called Derek. I loved Derek, but I couldn't get him to walk. All he did was lie there, he was very lazy.'
Spinning tops are the highlight of any discussion. If you don't believe me, go up to a stranger and strike up a conversation - it's like a golden pass into idle chit-chat.
'Oh, Toffee! I just want to LOVE HIM AS MY OWN SON AND SEE HIM MARRY A WOMAN OF GOOD MEANS AND VIRTUE!'
Nooreen heaps scorn on Jack's fatherly aspirations.
Catriona's playing fetch with the dog (it's Tucker again. What a harassment that animal is.). The other dog is Tucker's evil twin. As for the, ah... person...
This is Lesley Ploop, one of Catriona's creations. The idea was to see just how much like a woman we could make a male sim look. Perhaps we'll see the other two members of the family Ploop some other time...
Nooreen notices the funky latin beat issuing forth from Jack's groin.
'... what?'
'It's the aliens, Jack, they're out to get Toffee. They want to melt him down and smother him over an apple. Watch the skies, man.'
'But Toffee is my best friend! Why would they do that? TOFFEE!'
Sometime before now I wondered where Brandon was, so I scoured the whole house looking for him, but no sign.
But there he is! Staring at someone in the kitchen... through the wall... he's beginning to seem a bit ghostly, the way he's just drifting through the house not talking to anyone.
Complacence is the new watchword for fire safety.
'My cocoa pops, Nooreen, they're burnt! And those pretty, warm lights have disappeared!'
'That's fire, Jack, not usually associated with microwave cookery.'
'I tried putting one in my pocket but it bit me.'
Brandon's disappeared again. I think he's gone home.
Catriona's finally got round to using the bubble blower. The bathtub's obviously lost its naval charms.
WOAH. What the hell is with this guy?
... trés creepy.
*heavy breathing*
Brandon gets bored and decides to soak in the jacuzzi. I'm going to have to keep an eye on him.
Nooreen goes to work, and not a moment later the phone rings.
Sigh.
'Hey, Jack is it? I'd like to talk to Nooreen, she sort of blew up my house and I need to talk to her about insurance...'
'She's not here, they've employed her to stare at people in the hospital for euthanasia purposes.'
He's behiiiiind yooooooou...
Here's another thing I haven't mentioned. For some reason, Pyke dreams about this particular woman almost every other night. Her name is 'Melissa Fancey' and I have no idea when or how they met... mysterious.
Brandon's gone AGAIN.
'Hey, Jack, I just blew some bubbles, and it was amazing! I never realised you could get so many different colours in one floating transparent ball.'
Jack, try as he might, can not help noticing that Catriona's shoes are from a now unfashionable range, the poor girl.
Nooreen's been promoted to nurse again! Excellent! If that damn sherpa comes back, I'm going to have Nooreen shove a thermometer up his rectum and checking pupil dilation before you can say 'I've never seen a three-l lllama.'
'Jack, you cunning old dog, you've just found the best place to sleep ever. The government and corporations want us to believe that mattresses and pillows are best but I'm not going to fall for that old guff.'
Nooreen relaxes after a hard day nursing sick patients on the other park bench, as far away as possible.
Pyke's waste has clogged the upstairs toilet so badly that it's overflowed. Who knows what chthonic monsters may have been dredged up with that water? And I'm using the word 'water' only in the technical sense.
Shit, he's gone! I'm not going to be able to sleep with the lights off for weeks now!
'zzz... tasteful offset of beige and blue... zzz... created by distinguished Italian DiTorrio... zzz... appeared in Cosmopolitan... zzz...'
Jack wet-dreams about hats.
The day is ending and Pyke imbibes the stickiest, most vile drink she can find... she's very depressed, her social meter is as low as it can go. That's what happens when the only thing you ever want to do is poke Catriona, Pyke!
With isolation comes loneliness... and with loneliness...
Madness.
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