Category Archives: Long Islands

house manners

Yes. There she is. “Hi, I came as quickly as I could.”

“Well shut the f-cking door behind you,” her somewhat estranged sister exuded.

“We *did* grow up in a barn,” Mona defended.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You, Gloria and I–”

“I *know* who my sisters are.” Silence for a while between them. Mona didn’t move closer. The squirrel spooked her. She’d seen “Caddyshack” not 3 years ago. And “Groundhog Day” even closer to the moment. The 2 fused in her mind. Something was going to happ—”


“Well shut the f-cking door behind you.”

She did. Lesson 01 learned.

The squirrel and plants and Hills soon went away. She and her sister were getting along pretty well for a change.

“So tell me about Ossemotor,” she asked around 2 hours and fifteen minutes into their conversation.

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explosive offer

Anja had been trying to figure out the presence of the squirrel in the house she was looking to purchase…

… and the plants…

… and The Hills it appears to be flying over from this angle.

From other angles… well, one angle (see above), the squirrel seemed to have some kind of fuse attached to its tail, even, like the sculpted one made out of plastic explosive Bill Murray tried to use to kill gophers in “Caddyshack”.

Strange he later went on to star in the groundbreaking “Groundhog Day”, named for a similar, large burrowing animal that often gets confused with gophers.

Back to Anja. Why is she here? Why is she trying to purchase this house perched on a small Nautilus island hill with 2 interior Hills? *Who* is she?

Wilder sister to Gloria, I believe. Tamer sister to totally out there Mona. We might meet her next.

(to be continued)

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sides (sandwich?)

“My Mama doesn’t like the way I crucify the Lord in vain. Defend yourself, you and your Crazy Blue.”

She lowered her arms. She went to a place earmarked for such a discussion. Still on the BIONaz Gulch-Nightsity line (of sims) — in this case Dottieback. She checked the whole line last night, just hopping around on it randomly, spotting a potential structure and then beaming in. Worked in BIONaz Gulch’s Fantasyland (pictured above), in Othello’s Nightsity. Maybe it can work again. The “city” here has to develop a bit to make it useful, though, she thinks from her position of power, standing above the line instead of being absorbed. Crucified Christ indeed.

Changing back into her standard garb, she stared at the lines on her screen. Nautilus once more. Continental centerpiece. She smiled at the insights.

Yes this will work, she said, suddenly planning a party down at her new beach house, Edward included. She hasn’t given up on him. Omega. Arthur Kill will come to understand the difference between novel and reality. Takes two to know.

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“Still in Nanon Sweet Morning light in the room in the room, box springs are broken next to hand springs. Colorado.

“The place: BIONaz Gulch (sim) next to Snowmass near Woody Creek. Colorado. Woody Woodmanson loves Snow — comes from that land and sometimes hung out with fellow native Snowmanster and then seems, later on, to himself animate a snowman after moving back to Collagesity with the rest of the Baker family in photo-novel 04.”

“Let me guess (for the 3rd): Colorado.”



“We could go with several but let’s use Jack Torrance leaning against a Colorado map in Kubrick’s “The Shining” while disabling a ham radio, head appearing to touch a location called Cannibal or Canibal Plateau.

“Kubrick did this to indicate Jack is actually a wannabe cannibal in the film, as foreshadowed by him talking about the Donner Party LINK in the scene where he, with his family, approach the evacuating Overlook Hotel to take over as winter caretaker.”

“Mountain air,” says Wheeler to this. “I’m soo sleepy (!).” She mimics Wendy’s yawn in the film again just before Jack’s Donner Party exposition.

And so we return.

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Even in Sweet Nanon’s Morning light, it was a creepy place, what with its rickety old picket fence, grown up yard, and weatherworn appearance. Dare our heroine go inside? That would be Crazy. Crazy Ass Blue. Let’s do it!

Turns out the basement was the worst part but that was just because of all the kitty litter, a blockage of sorts. The heroine carefully descends…


Part 02…

It was a tight squeeze but she made it, newly placed crown just fitting under ceiling. Top of the kitty tower, Queen of the Basement. She surveys her queendom and deems it needs cleaning up. Pretty badly. She’s lost control of her 15 year old girl and 4 year old boy, her subjects. Better return to the Room and draw out a plan.

But she looked and looked but couldn’t find her way back. Just walls. She forgot that she was already in the Room. And always had been.

She exits the house disappointed.

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Scroop’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Scrougeout

Spider guides. Wheeler’s new fashion design business highlighted by “accident” (foreground) on my big Nautilus map in the sky. Nearby Strutter sim’s steampunk village Rugburns with the cat-witch and her own tuxedo cat (“Pheh! Tuxedo?” she uttered disgustingly when learning she couldn’t get a solid black one) is gone now, disappeared back into the pixels it came from.

Strutter’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Struthers, reminding us of Shelley and her Lebettu Castle where I just came from, me being Newt, formerly Axis-Windmill and with last name yet to be determined. Perhaps it is Newton. Heck perhaps it is Struthers, and Shelley is my child, hmm. *Our* child?

Anyway, Spider is back and I’m glad of it. Less work for me to find the next meaningful association to continue the blog posts being churned out one-by-one, like Struthers to Scroop here where the two-dimensional, numbers uttering chihuahua with a name of a different animal species altogether stands upon. Sim, that is…

… and diagonally on it in addition. Let’s follow this.


Ahh yes.

I miss it.

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assimilations continue

Long Islands’ Benvolians love their solo artists. Here’s Prince and David Bowie, perhaps the 2 greatest such acts in musical history in terms of just raw, pure creativity.

Then of course Mama Cass (top), along with Elvis and Ol’ Blue Eyes Frank Sinatra. David Bowie has blue eyes too, but, as I think I’ve relayed here before, one appears brown or darker because of a condition called anisocoria (enlarged pupil). And then there’s Wilson Wheeler, I mean, Wheeler Wilson modelling another purple outfit, this time one of her harper dresses. Wheeler actually is afflicted by the same eye discoloration, seeming to have 1 blue and 1 brown eye. No mere accident there.

She stares over at Bowie, wondering if she has his anisocoria or true heterochromia — actual mismatched blue and brown hued eyes in other words. Doesn’t matter, she decides. The effect in this same. In the moment, she’s actually, come to think of it again, a mixture of Bowie and Prince, the latter famous for his purple garb. Interesting they appear together here in this most famous of Benvolian locations called Brazen Head, claiming itself as Our Second Lyfe’s oldest Irish pub. I think the owners anticipated the coming of Wheeler. She’s very famous as well, moreso in the future than the present. She’s working on it. Might be a modelling or fashion designing career that leads her there, might be something else. Desire creates reality, and she’s very determined to make it into that exclusive circle.

Maybe she should take up jazz piano.


Ho ho, she can play!

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who’s that lady in purple

She finds herself staring through a window on Long Island, needing more clothes. She decides to assimilate (again). Wilson’s, she ponders the title of the shop while studying the inventory within. We’ll just shift that over one to Wheeler, let the women have the upper hand, although both sexes will be served once more.


Better. And no Alpha needed this time. These were old fashion, BOM based outfits. She crosses her legs and waits for more plot to happen. She’s ready now.

“I’m still going to shorten my legs,” she says, studying her toes too far from her face, story renewed.

“As you wish,” spoke Newt, knowing the moment would pass. It always does.

He folds the paper over, puts it in his lap. “Wheeler”, he says, staring forward.


“No, I mean the shop.”

“Yes, once more.” Her shop now. And she has a special purple one for Newt later. Ah heck, how about now. The legs can wait.

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It was getting foggy again. They must be close to the library. “Who are you?” she demands from the nefarious agent before her — ‘nother one — on this 3rd of levels, with yet another door to go through to reach the absolute end. “47,” he said, still reading, which was a lie because he was 23. Woman now: no hair on the lip atall. Thanks to the drink. “Reading about you, actually.”

“Oh yeahhh?” She was trying to act tough, heard gays or lesbians tend to do that. Stereotyping, even though she is one of ’em now.

“Um, yeah,” he answered plainly back, wondering about the posturing. She adjusts and leans left. She thinks it is the right thing to do — to back down from this man who seemingly has a plan. “Panama,” he continues to follow that last sentence. “Bridge between North and South.”

“Phooeysticks,” she barked, and then actually covered her mouth, wondering where the words come from. Phooeysticks? What kind of childish utterance was that?

But then she remembers saying it, long ago. In a crib by the silver shore. She said it to her Pop.

She looks toward the end which is not quite the end. “What’s behind the curtains, Pop?” She was talking in her head to her long dead father, going on 20 years now. “Oz,” came the kind voice back. “Or Ozzie; whichever you wish, darling.” She now knew she was dreaming but couldn’t wake up still. “Go to the pulpit and see,” requested the voice again. Agent 23 remained silent and frozen, his role done for now. She proceeded forward and sat.


She still held the pop in her left hand, which was the channeling device. She still heard Pop in her head. “Feel the landscape, feel the *ground*,” as the lightning struck all around the picture before her. The tree! she thought. The swamp tree, but a… tamer one. One I can actually deal with. Not the one…

She recalled the last level. Sykes.

No need to go there now.

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games now

There it was, plain as day. Between the Whac a Pirate and Pack Man. And bottles at that, or so it said. She’d been fooled before. Dare she? She approached the portal, prepared her quarter for entry into the proffered slit. More channeling tonight, because Joey was about to turn gay. One touch of the magic pop to her lips (*drop*)…

There, ahhhhhhh.

Now to ditch this bitch wig and find the next door.

There! Behind the Hook A Duck.

She ain’t scared of no witches (but she should be).

(to be continued)

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