The Great Langurd Psychoanalysis (Not Another Birthday…)
Today this blog turns nine years old! I hate that for us. Tewl and his descendants have plagued our lives for too long.
While I like to put out a post every year just to acknowledge the day, the level of effort always varies. Second only to last year’s Paint cake, this may be the laziest celebration of all—largely because I prepared it for the 8th birthday, and then ran out of time to flesh it out and saved it for this year instead.
So here’s the deal:
The Great Langurd Psychoanalysis
The Great Langurd Olympics (a.k.a. Not a Birthday)
This post is not really happening because I refuse to acknowledge that a year has passed since the last birthday celebrations, and because there’s no way I’ve been doing this legacy thing for four years. Absolutely not a chance. Ergo, this is not a birthday.
EDIT: It is also not a birthday because I’m now uploading this a day late. All the more evidence that it never happened!
4.13 Oh Boy, That Tickles!
(NOTE: Chapter 4.12 went up less than 24 hours ago, so make sure you don’t skip over it by mistake! I only say this because back-to-back posts are unheard of for me, so I wouldn’t blame you for clicking the first post you see in the Reader Feed. :P)
Goodness gracious, I just looked through the screenshots for this chapter and we have a lot to get through. Don’t scroll ahead because some of it is big and game-changing. If you do scroll ahead, you’re probably the kind of person who skipped to the end of Harry Potter Six, so kindly let me know to un-friend you. What do you mean there’s no friend system on WordPress? The sentiment is there, okay? I will un-friend you in my heart.
But not actually because it’s your life, and this is a legacy for crying out loud, not Harry Potter.
Newsman: And finally, birdwatchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Do not be alarmed if a strange man in a cloak drops a scarred infant on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Balboa: Malissa, dear — what’s the name of your nephew again?
Malissa: Gumby. Nasty, common name if you ask me.
(Now exiting the parallel universe where “Gumby” is a common name.)
4.12 My Baby All Gone
Lt. Surge: Greetings, scum. As the master of this household, I have taken over narration duties for the time being. The coup was easy; Sam is a creature of very little willpower, known to melt in the presence of cats. She lets us sleep in her clean laundry and chew on her headphone cords because she doesn’t have the heart to tell us no. All I had to do was sit up here and make this face, and she immediately bumped my picture to the top of the chapter. Pathetic.
4.11 I Am Mrs. Nesbitt
You know how when people live together, their cycles sync up? Apparently, I’ve been “living” with the Langurds for too long, because I’m experiencing a severe case of simulative synchrony. (Why yes, I coined that term myself just now.)
Just like Boa, Lira, and the rest, your Director of Shenanigans is now officially a Gryffindor graduate! Discovery: the door clusterfuck is a myth. In fact, the whole process was highly streamlined and efficient and the worst nightmare of a socially awkward person. Why am I telling you guys this? I’m pretty sure 80% of my readership is older and more life-experienced than I am. Which is an interesting story, but seeing as I haven’t finished this one…
4.7 Come on Barbie, Let’s Go Party
Now that we’re acquainted with the new house, let the breaking-in commence! Or more likely just the breaking.
Weston: Gilded wainscoting, crystal chandeliers, solid gold bathtubs… This place must have cost us approximately—
A shit ton, yes, thank you Mr. Frugal. Maybe don’t check out Lira’s room because it contains $6600 worth of curtains. XD
4.5 Mrs. White in the Library with the Pipe
Are you ready for a good old-fashioned game of whodunnit?
Well too bad, ‘cause there’s very little mystery here. It’s been clear for a few chapters that there’s no love lost between Lira and Weston, and clear for Lira’s whole life that she’s up to no good.
Weston: For heaven’s sake, where are we going?
Lira: Isn’t this wonderful? The snow is blowing so white on the mountain tonight!
Well, aren’t I chuffed! After a year of lousy updating, you guys still have the goodness in your hearts to do stuff like this. Thanks a bajillion to umbramuse who nominated me first, and to Heather and MichelleLynn who also nominated me for the Lobster Liebster Award!
I don’t usually do the warm and fuzzy stuff, but I’m gonna have to slip in some realtalk. It’s a funny little community we have here, with our Simming and our pictures and funnies and scorekeeping and whatever else. Have you ever sat back and looked at your blog and thought “What even is this?” It’s hard to explain what we do to most people, or even find a WordPress category that can begin to contain it. But however little and however specialized, I love being a part of a blogosphere where everyone is so supportive of one another’s creative endeavours, and in general, just so dang awesome.
4.4 Make Him Better or Get the Buzzer
Well, considering how confident I was last chapter in my hermity caveman ways, a lot has actually happened since I put that post out. I went on a forest adventure, tried to move into my new place but failed, and had a job interview. Oh, and I got my first tattoo! Basically, I’m still an unemployed deadbeat but I’m an unemployed deadbeat who dipped one toe in the waters of real life for half a second. Yay, me!
Speaking of unemployed deadbeats, it occurred to me that the last Langurd to hold a steady job was… well, Morgana, and I had no part in her getting or keeping that job. Three generations of dicking around later, our fortunes are dwindling and I’ve decided to crack down on my heirs, start funnelling them down the narrow road of career society. Just kidding, but I’m accepting that we won’t last forever on book royalties and broken space rocks. Someone’s gotta put food on the table and all that.
Raggedy: You gonna finish that?