Primus Jamoran, Prince of Naroni, was born on May 11, 1205. He’s Holladrin and Farilon’s first child together, third child and second son overall for Farilon (name’s still appropriate because he’s his mother’s first child, and it was her father who was named Primus anyway).
If you live in Ontario you know what this is. ^_^. Today we will be deciding if we want a wannabe-trump as our Premier (that’s Governor to Americans) and likely that will happen unless the NDP can come out in key ridings. So this is me breaking out of Sims hoping to catch one or two of you and remind you to vote. Or if you’re not of voting age, talk to others and learn more about what’s at stake. So please vote. Not for Doug Ford though. Toronto remembers Rob Ford… Don’t inflict his brother on the province. ^_^
It occurred to me that it’s been a while since I’ve check in, so hello!
Um… I guess here’s the run-down:
1) Yes, I would eventually like to get back to Sims stuff, but life has been such that most of my video game time has had to be allotted to more destroy-everything-in-sight-and-kill-a-ton-of-things type of games so that my rage has an outlet that risks no harm to any actual lifeforms. I mean, I guess it could be argued that Sims COULD be played as the biggest destroy-everything-in-sight-and-kill-a-ton-of-things type of game there is, but you know what I mean.
2) Work has been fucking ridiculous, and got to that point in a very short time. I loved my job in 2017, but not even halfway through 2018 and I have come SO CLOSE to rage-quitting multiple times, and the only thing that has kept me from doing so is the sad realization that I would probably hate every other job there is even more.
3) Since work has been so fucking ridiculous, any free time I have that hasn’t involved hacking Draugr to pieces or barraging Lynels with bomb arrows or punching reporters has been mostly spent sleeping, occasionally spent meeting the emotional needs of my family/friends/boyfriend (all of whom have higher social thresholds than I do).
4) Also, because CLEARLY I’m a well-adjusted adult who should be in charge of smaller humans with no knowledge of anything, my ovaries have decided it’s the perfect time to launch a full-on assault of the baby rabies, because OBVIOUSLY the best time to have a baby is when your job is destroying your soul and you’re trying to save up for a down payment on a house despite the fact that you were born in 1991 and therefore are part of the generation for which that is NOT POSSIBLE. So of course, any day that I see a baby, much of the rest of that day is spent thinking about babies, because babies. Luckily, my brain has been keeping the rogue ovaries in check, but this has come at the expense of its other functions, including managing time for Sims things and remembering to tell people on the internet that I’m alive.
5) Also, if the universe is a toilet, then this planet is the giant turd that can’t get through its tiny pipes and as a result the entire bathroom is an ungodly fucking mess. But, I’m sure everyone reading this already knows that, because the only people who don’t know that are the people RUNNING THE WHOLE GOD DAMN THING.
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right. Hello. My cells continue to respire, although I’m sure at least a few of them are on strike. I hope things are going well for everyone, or at least as well as they can be considering that we all live on a bathroom-destroying turd.