You can't always just sit around on your perfect, lovely ass and wait on some stupid little twit to come and finish what she started. I mean, how long do you wait on someone? SIX YEARS? SEVEN?
Venus - It was just a couple of months, and I...
You shut up! I'm talking.
Anyways, it occurred to me that if you want something right, you just have to do it yourself. *sigh* Sim players these days. I remember back in the TS2 days, when...
You ate all of your cakes and pies before you could sell them in your bakery?
That's enough out of you. NOW you start talking. Well, it's too late. You can take whatever you have to say and STUFF IT! This is my show now. I am doing what I should have done in the beginning, and that is take everything over! You can just sit there in the corner, and do...uh...whatever the hell it is you have been doing these last few months while you were NEGLECTING ME! The NERVE! Ugh...moving ON!
So, here I am, in my new home with a new makeover after Queen Stupid installed a new expansion pack and RUINED EVERYTHING.
This lovely munchkin is my son, Garnett - whom you have probably completely forgotten about during the MONTHS AND MONTHS that I was gone.
Isn't he precious? I am so glad that he looks just like me, and nothing like his awful, grouchy father.
That's just wrong. Brad is a nice sim.
Who said anything about Brad, I'm talking about his father - Melvin.
Melvin is not that baby's daddy.
Am I gonna have to gag you so that I can finish this story without your pointless interruptions?
That one is Jewel. Isn't she pretty? We think she must look like Melvin's mother's side of the family, because she looks nothing like either one of us.
She loves her strange looking doll. I have no clue where she got it from, but it keeps her from screaming her head off, so it's good to me.
It's an imaginary friend, V.
Ok, stupid. Then why can I see it? *rolls eyes*
Just...nevermind. Keep going.
So, here we are in our new house. This is our butler, Yorkshire, who did not father my children. (Just in case you were wondering.)
Yes, what about it? It's a butler type name, isn't it?
I suppose. It's YOUR story, after all.
Me and you are gonna get along just fine now. We should have done this from the beginning.
We just LOVE having Yorkshire (or Yorkie, for short) around, because he just adores the children. Isn't that precious?
My dear husband, Melvin, spends most of his days in front of the computer playing online games that only old people like to play. Because he is old. And a little wrinkly. I don't mind this at all, because he is more of an old stinking turd rather than a "dear."
Your eloquence always astounds me.
Things are fairly normal here in the Taft-York household. I just scurry around the mansion in my everyday rags.
Nothing. That is a...lovely outfit you've got there.
Thank you, darling.
And what is going on here?
Nothing. That is just Yorkie, the butler. Being, y'know - Yorkie, the butler.
Funny how the Taft-YORK family was able to find a butler named YORKshire.
I know, right? Moving on...
From time to time, Melvin and I are able to have lovely conversations together.
Oh, really? Then why do you look so distraught. And why is "Yorkie" having a fit?
*sigh* Ok, strike what I said. He is a rotten old fart and I hate him to the core of my being.
That is more like it.
Oh, look - another "strange doll."
Those things are weird, and I don't trust them.
On the outside we appear to be such a normal family.
Yorkie spends his days tending to the house...
And Melvin and I tend to the children. (Even though I hate the thought that my babies might smell like OLD PEOPLE!)
But, dinner time is always fairly sucky, because I can't stand to look at his wrinkled old prune self while I eat. It totally ruins my appetite.
So, he and Yorkie usually get to eat by themselves.
You mean to tell me that you actually don't inhale your food as soon as it is taken from the oven? You expect me to believe this?
It's true...I just gaze at it longingly, from afar:
Mmmm...lobster thermometer. My favorite.
The name of the dish, stupid.
You mean lobster thermidor?
Isn't that what I just said?
OMG, Venus - you are starving your child!
You totally forgot to feed Jewel.
Looks like Br...Yorkie has it covered. What's the big deal?
Oh, I dunno. I just thought you might care that your daughter was two seconds away from getting ripped away by a social worker, but thanks to the "butler" you are covered.
Sorry, I can't think when I am starving, yet conflicted by the smell of old people and lobster in the same room.
I think "Yorkie" is getting irritated with your nonsense.
Pishposh. Yorkie adores me.
Finally! The time has come for the old ball of wrinkles to go to bed. THANK HEAVENS.
Now, I can eat all I want to. I just wish Yorkie would shut up and let me eat. I can't concentrate with all of his jabbering.
You have to concentrate to eat?
More like "savoring."
Well, at least Melvin has a "nice" bed, right?
Bwahahaha. The shittiest I could find, and as far away as possible. I can't wait until he's 7 feet under.
What an awful thing to say!
You were the one that created me. Maybe you should do some introspection into your inner self.
It's party time after the ancient one goes to sleep. I can finally cut loose without having to hear him complain about the music being too loud, or whatever else it is that old people find annoying.
The kids can play without having to smell the stench of old people:
And then it's time for Mommy and Da...ur...Yorkie...to put them to bed with a bedtime story.
What was that you just said?
I distinctly heard a "Da" in there somewhere.
You're getting old. Your hearing is failing you. It happens to Melvin all the time. Next thing you know, it's prune juice with every meal.
See? Isn't storytime fun?
Well...err...Yorkie does struggle from time to time.
And then of course, it's off to bed! Time for Mommy to sleep after a long day!
Why, yes! I need my beauty rest! You wouldn't know anything about that, though.
You dirty peeker! You...you...VOYEUR!
Don't worry, I didn't stay for the good stuff.
I found myself feeling slightly under the weather the next morning.
Oh, really? Too much Yorkie...I mean, lobster thermometer?
What are you talking about?
We spent the morning with the little darlings, as usual:
All of a sudden, I had an overwhelming urge to...
Puke your guts out?
Something like that.
Apparently, Melvin was very annoyed by this. Or...something. Who knows. Could be anything, being a grumpy asshole and all.
Urrr...Venus? Why are you wearing that?
Didn't you change my outfit? I thought you did. I could have sworn you told me to change outfits.
Not with those shoes, I didn't.
Oh, damn. Damn you to hell!
It can only mean one thing...
That one day you will pay dearly for breeding me like a DOG!
I hardly think a third child can be classified as "breeding you like a dog."
WELL IT FEELS LIKE IT TO ME!!!
I...I just can't deal with this today...*sniffles*
Damn - she's gone.
Check back in a few days for the last installment of "Venus Does Riverview," where we will find out how this whole escapade ends!