The Sims: a lesson in life

My name is Elizabeth and ..... and I'm a "Sims" addict. Actually, I'm more of a binger. I won't play it for a year and then I'll rediscover it and play non-stop for days. Since Christmas is all about excess, it perhaps isn't surprising that I indulged myself in a bit of virtual reality Sim-life. My sim-Elizabeth moved into a cute Tudor abode with her cat Tallis and lover, Keanu Reeves (complete with Matrix trench coat and sun glasses). Happy days ensued in which Elizabeth progressed rapidly through the medicine career track, Keanu became a sous-chef and even Tallis brought home a steady income as a rescue pet (earning rather more than Keanu). They had the best of everything; luxury bed, piano, hot tub.... and when Keanu presented Elizabeth with a diamond engagement ring, what could she say but yes?

It all went wrong when Keanu (who had family aspirations) strongly desired a baby. Time was running out for he and Elizabeth would become infertile elders in a matter of days. While pondering the issue during long star-gazing hours (ok, I sent him out there every night for a week) Keanu was abducted to return inpregnated with an alien child. But this left a problem: Elizabeth, now wanting a baby herself, was stuck with a husband no longer up to the challenge. The only solution was seduction of a neighbour in the hot tub while Keanu was resting his swollen belly upstairs.

So now we were expecting two children. A handful, yes, but I thought it would be kinda awesome: one alien child and one love child (rather obviously so, since the seduced neighbour was dark skinned). The happy day arrived and Keanu gave birth .... to twins. Within 24 hours, Elizabeth also gave birth resulting in 3 (3!) babies in the house. Keanu was delighted. It became his biggest ambition to have yet another child.

One day later and it was hell. I hired a non-stop cycles of nannies and a maid to try and stay on top of the situation... and failed. Keanu and Elizabeth became exhausted and fell asleep on the floor, the maid never finished the work and had to give up when it got dark, the nanny didn't have time to use the toilet and wet herself... 3 times ... and the cat resorted to asking the maid for attention. A few more days later and the game informed me that the kids aspiration meter was low and I should focus on fulfilling their life ambitions. Life ambitions?! Isn't being alive enough??

Keanu is now mopping up the nanny pee (which the maid seems to have an aversion to doing). His worst fear has become to have another child.

Gasoline

This post is particularly aimed at my American friends who have had to suffer through my complaints about US news broadcasting (too vindictive), US health system (too expensive) and US alligators (too many teeth) and how it (news / health / teeth) would never happen in Europe.

[At a petrol station in Leicester, UK. My Mum fills up the car and then goes to pay inside.]

Me: "Can't we just swipe the credit card and zoom off?"

Mum: "No, most petrol stations don't have that. We have to go and pay inside."

Me: "Bah."

[Inside a shop]

Me: "They don't bag our groceries for us? We've got to pack it all up ourselves?"

Mum: "Start packing."

Me. "BAH."

[Later still]

Me: "I need to use the bathroom."

Mum: "I don't think there are public toilets here."

Me: "This would never happen in America."

Mum: "Do you want dinner?!"

The postdoc who never wanted to grow up

Adviser: Are you generally applying for faculty jobs?

Me: No. I really don't want a faculty position, so there seemed no point in submitting an application since I'd still turn it down in favour of a postdoc.

Adviser: Well, you say you'd turn it down *now*, but if you got a competitive faculty job at a research university ...

Me: ... I'd be mad to turn it down?

Adviser: You'd be mad to turn it down.

Me: So I shouldn't apply. My logic is impeccable.

Blown over

Well, that's all rather disappointing but still... there's always next year!

Stormtroopers

So, let's be honest. Tropical storm Fay was somewhat of a disappointment. I know, I know, you don't all agree. Especially those whose houses were flooded / trees smashed down on cars / general humiliation of being pounded by a woman who sounds like your great aunt. But for me, I felt short changed of the full Florida hurricane experience. Even my non-Florida friends were disgusted commenting "I thought at least your power would be out by now." Still, it appears mother nature heard my noises of discontent and responded by sending over not one but another four hurricane-promising storms.

New Orleans got all the fun of Gustav, but we have Hanna, Ike and Josephine still on the cards. Don't get me wrong, however, I don't want to be flooded out. What we're looking for here is a truck load of rain and wind that allows me to return home to the UK with tales to tell, but nothing that involves me being without power and air conditioning for more than a night. (Hear that, up there?! No loss of internet. I do *not* want to be sent back to the stone ages). So hold onto your waterproofs, Floridians, the stormtroopers are coming!

Wet

Quite damp outside, I have to say.

Gyms? Okay then.

Gyms? Oh please, I have a life! I do sports! Going to a sweaty, claustrophobic room to pound away at a machine with the only purpose being to keep your body in acceptable shape, not to have fun or contribute to a team or socialise or... No. This is an activity for people who do not have friends.

Then I realised something odd. Many of my friends go to gyms. And if they are all anti-social, uninteresting misfits then ... well... it doesn't say much for the people who choose to hang out with them. Determine to get to the bottom of this issue, I persuade a friend to take me along to her gym as a guest. There, finally, I see the attraction. Large airy rooms, swimming pool, classes in every exercise imaginable, large bouncy exercise balls, weights and lifting equipment, the latest contraptions for running, stepping, cycling ..... and the personal cable tv screen attached to each machine. Oh yes, cancel with cox cable, I can now justify hours of Futurama, Sex in the City and Friends while I pound my abs into shape.

I get it. I signed up. And now my heart rate will match Carrie's as she sleeps her way through a series of disastrous relationships.