Welcome to the Clover County Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.
Updates Monday, Wednesday, and Friday every week!
And the new countdown is on!
It’s a countdown to my forgetting that I promised to update three days a week.
How about some more ENTROPY files to make the following mess seem slightly less messy?
Albert Einstein once said that only three people really understand Cecilia and Vanessa’s story.
Okay! Let’s do some… stuff.
I wish I had more of these.
Why do you have a truck?
Michael: It confuses the people who would otherwise attempt to beat me up.
Forget that, let’s remind them why they want to beat you up.
Poppy: If I scratch my armpits one more time, I think we’re legally married.
Fortune Sims: A Practical Case Study.
Now get out of here, I promised them lesbians last time.
Poppy: Did you promise them attractive lesbians?
Not really, but I think for a lot of people that’s implied.
Poppy: Well I think a lot of people are gonna be disappointed, then.
Know any good marks?
Poppy: Lesbianism isn’t a con game.
Not specifically, but romance in general certainly is.
Poppy: Hey, I want to spite my husband. Want to spite yours too?
Poppy: She’s a scientist. She appreciates efficiency.
She certainly carries the dignity of her discipline around with her.
Cameron: No, that’s whale sperm. I can’t seem to get it all off.
Poppy: Is there a seam in this thing? A zipper maybe?
Cameron: It’s a deep-sea diving suit. If you open it up I think my kidneys will explode.
Kent: Don’t look now kid, but I think your momma’s about to get a faceful of fish.
Poppy: It’s suddenly not so appealing when you put it that way.
Cameron: I don’t even know what I’m doing here.
Poppy: That’s a fair representation of most straight people in bed.
Poppy: I’ll learn you the ropes.
Cameron: I thought we were gonna, like, key our husbands’ cars or something.
Cameron: I’m still holding out hope that we are.
Cameron: And this is all just some strange custom from wherever you’re from.
Cameron: Oh hell. I’m experimenting sexually, aren’t I.
Poppy: Most great discoveries come from accidental experimentation.
Poppy: Come on. I know what you’re going through. Both of our husbands treat us like we’re dead.
Cameron: I used to be a zombie. And I heard you were dead at one point.
Poppy: Just because they’re men is no excuse for being slow on the uptake.
Poppy: I mean, that whole zombie thing happened because of male chauvinism. The fucking Zombie Queen killed herself over a man originally! I remember feeling really sorry for her.
Cameron: That happened like a decade before you came to MNU. How can you “remember” it?
Poppy: MY NONSENSICAL MEMORIES ARE A DIFFERENT TOPIC ALTOGETHER.
Kent: I’m developing a brief on it for Child Protective Services.
Poppy: This isn’t the time for plot revelations. We have porn scheduled for this slot.
Cameron: We could combine the plot revelations with the porn!
Poppy: This isn’t Game of Thrones, Cameron. We have standards here.
Poppy: And anyway I’m disappointed that you didn’t make a “slot” joke back there, I set you up for it and everything.
Kent: Slot is such a sexy word.
Kent: Front row seats, baby.
Veronica: .oO(I have a name.)
Poppy: I’m really turned on right now.
Cameron: I guess we have to rely on verbal cues, what with the lack of big floppy dicks here.
Kent: I’ve got the floppy part covered.
That’s… what she said?
Kent: Wait, no, not anymore.
Kent: Sorry kid, my contract is really specific about boners and about not holding kids whilst possessing them.
I call this montage “most people’s idea of lesbians.”
Poppy: I remember back when Daisy wasn’t Daisy.
Poppy: When she killed her boyfriend by throwing something at him. Of course, I was dead at the time.
Poppy: Later on she killed other people in other ways.
Cameron: THIS SUBPLOT NEEDS TO END.
Poppy: We can at least put it on hold.
Kent: MAKE THE JOKE ABOUT HOW SHE’S HOLDING YOU ALREADY
They’re much too classy for that.
The special edition of “What the Butler Saw” was particularly controversial.
Kent: I’m just going on smell, actually. Both of my eyes are glass.
Poppy: CHEATING MAKES ME ANGRY
Cameron: Psychotic hypocrisy makes me leaving.
Poppy: You won’t tell Michael about this, right?
Kent: No way, baby. It’s way hotter if only I know. I’m like the goddamn Riddler or something.
Kent: The Riddler is gay in my slashfic.
Kent: And he’s married to Mysterio.
Poppy: That’s Marvel.
Kent: I mostly write crossover slashfic.
Poppy: You are some fucked-up, Kent.
Kent: Says the amnesiac with gender preference confusion.
Poppy: I don’t remember promoting you to psychotherapist.
Psycho, the rapist.
Great job title.
Poppy: Yeah, rape is real funny.
Veronica: .oO(NONE OF THIS IS FUNNY)
Kent: Those clothes are.
Poppy: Oh, so now we’re changing my wardrobe based on criticisms my infant daughter has, relayed via the oh-so-very trustworthy medium of my sexually depraved butler.
No, I just really hated that outfit.
Poppy: Will I ever look good?
Sometime in 2015, yeah.
Poppy: Awesome! It’s 2015 now!
Nope! It’s the 11th of June, 2011, and you’ve got a solid forty-four months of ugly left in you.
Poppy: I can deal with this for forty-four months, I guess.
Those forty-four months will take twenty years to get through, mind you.
Cameron: Someone definitely needs flowers.
Poppy: JUST PUT THEM RIGHT THERE YOU’RE NOT BUILDING A HOUSE OR SOMETHING
Cameron: Well fuck you then, I’m keeping them.
Jane: Hmm. Noted.
Poppy: You’re a terrible secret agent.
Jane: I’m an open secret agent, thank you very much.
What are you mad about? Did Michael cheat on you or something? I don’t remember.
Poppy: Considering the shredded state of our neighbourhood data, I’m probably mad that our garbage can cheated on William’s dead dog or something.
Poppy: And I get hot just thinking about it.
Michael: I didn’t know you could bend that way!
Michael: Okay, too much.
Poppy: Sorry honey, “too much” is my lowest setting.
The niceties must be observed.
Michael: Yeah, I show my nice ties to everyone at work every day.
Michael: And nudes of my wife, to secure bragging rights.
Michael: You’re a heavy sleeper, you know that?
Michael: You should see a doctor about it.
Michael: Hey Kent! Good day?
Kent: So hot.
Michael: You’d better not be talking about Veronica.
Kent: Oh shit, right. That thing.
Kent: Seems premature to waste a name on it, though.
And then Poppy stole Michael’s car and drove off into the lesbian.
Sunset. Drove into the sunset.
She missed the lesbian, but only by that much.
Poppy: What drugs are you on today, man?
A little something I like to call lack of sleep.
Geez. Get a room, you guys.
That would look kinda cute if you weren’t so many bucketloads of ugly right now.
Alejandro: I CAN RUB MY FACE TOO
I think once all the non-walkby NPCs walk by, you get a prize.
And that prize is a neighbourhood that won’t load anymore.
Alejandro: At least then you won’t have to look at that hideous she-dog anymore.
Poppy: I’ve got a pile of good lookin’ coming up to the cash as we speak.
Lainey: She thinks I’m good lookin’!
Uma: She means she’s buying some good clothing.
Lainey: TEENAGER KNOWS NOTHING
Uma: I’m older than you are.
Poppy: I know.
Lainey: I am pretty stunning, though, don’t you agree?
Poppy: Let me try an experiment.
Poppy: Yep! When I lower my standards, you’ve got a rockin’ bod!
Poppy: They’ve got ointment in the bathrooms here, in case that burn starts to itch.
Poppy: I bet nobody would get turned into a zombie and killed if they were dating someone wearing this hot little number!
I really can’t keep track of all these dead NPCs.
With enough exposure, they start mimicking human behaviour.
Poppy: You like it?
No! But I know it’s what you end up with, so I’m pretending.
And anyway everyone in this room suddenly looks a whole lot uglier.
Abigail: Is that the best you can afford?
Poppy: It’s the best he’s willing to spend on a second-tier character.
Poppy: The gays don’t get enough respect around here.
Brady: Tell me about it.
Poppy: Anyway, you’re one to talk. You look like the lovechild of Christina Hendricks and David Bowie.
Poppy: Which would actually be kind of hot, so never mind.
Brady: She’s right, eh? The gays don’t get enough respect in this story.
Abigail: Do I know you?
Brady: I dated one of your sons.
Abigail: I have sons?
Clay: Mmm-mmm-mmm, I smell me a challenge!
Clay: Ever since Gigli every man’s dream has been to seduce a lesbian!
Poppy: Jennifer Lopez wouldn’t know a lesbian if it bit her in her fat ass.
Clay: Mmm-mmm-mmm! This one might not be a lesbian, but at least she’s not smarter than I am.
Abigail: YOU’RE TOO HOT TO BE A POLICE CHIEF
Clay: Apparently smart is going out of vogue!
Abigail: No, I did a scientific study on this, it’s legit.
Yes, no more of this, please.
But let’s not necessarily go back to this either.
Poppy: Notice anything different?
Michael: Yeah, your palms look like they’ve been spending my money.
Poppy: I heard this great story about Cameron Murphy today!
Michael: Is she the one who turned the upstairs into sky?
Poppy: She’s not friends with Don Macarevich anymore! She killed him with an axe!
Poppy: Hi Kent!
Michael: Yeah, hi, Kent? Has my wife been stuck in the past all day, or has it just been intermittent?
Poppy: THERE’S NO EVIDENCE THAT SOCCER IS POPULAR
Michael: Wow, so it’s not intermittent! Awesome.
Michael: Honey, the zombie apocalypse is over. And you weren’t living here when it happened.
Poppy: I wasn’t living anywhere! I was dead!
Michael: Which is not a good reason for remembering other people’s memories.
Michael: Or for slighting our national sport.
Poppy: Oh, have I been spewing non-sequiturs again? I just keep remembering things that can’t have happened to me, and I have to spit them out.
Wow, you’re like Brian Williams or something.
Nobody’s happy about it.
Kent: We could end the chapter, if all the lesbianism is over!
Michael: What lesbianism.
Poppy: Kent. Distraction please.
Kent: EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GROSS THING I FOUND
Michael: As long as it tastes good.
Yeah, I feel that way about my degrees too sometime.
By which I mean I feel like I could stare at them FOREVER.
Michael: No. But man, that smells good!
Kent: I haven’t cooked anything yet.
Michael: I can afford a butler with an ass that smells like lobster thermidor!
Michael: So yeah, how did you make lobster thermidor out of that turkey?
Kent: LOBSTERS AREN’T REAL.
Kent: They’re just a myth to keep you eating turkey after thanksgiving.
Michael: I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that.
Kent: YOU CAN’T PUT THE GENIE BACK IN THE BOTTLE
Poppy: I prefer to have lobster thermidor leftovers. It makes me feel richer than rich.
You should make babies with this asshole, they’ll have the right facial expressions for your new lifestyle.
Michael: Is my wife cheating on me?
Kent: What? Oh, definitely.
Michael: You’re a terrible liar.
Kent: I’m sure there’s a reason all her friends are lesbians and she used to be a lesbian and she invites them over sometimes when you’re not here.
Michael: I like to think they’re running a secret jello wrestling ring in the basement.
Kent: You don’t have a basement.
Michael: It’s that secret.
Poppy: That was an interesting strategy you employed back there.
Kent: It wasn’t a strategy, I forgot I was supposed to be covering for you.
Michael: I’ve been behind you this whole time.
Kent: WOO! BIRTHDAY!
Michael: CURSE YOU SOCIAL RITUAL
Poppy: Mommy and daddy love you, no matter how badly their relationship might crash and burn.
Michael: I dunno, I was planning to blame it all on her if that happens.
At least Kent has his priorities straight.
Poppy: Alright, now prepare to drop it on my command.
I always find the traditional baby-leg-cake-cutting a bit gross, me.
Not as gross as this, though.
Poppy: What are you talking about? She’s perfect!
Kent: That means a lot, coming from the person responsible for your look.
Michael: I kinda like it.
Poppy: Does she turn out alright?
She turns out a lot like her mommy!
Poppy: Oh, god.
Um, wow. She sure looks…
Poppy: I know, right?! Once I started combing her hair that way, it all fell right into place!
Yes, but, do you… um… have you seen that haircut somewhere before, maybe?
Poppy: STOP TRYING TO FORCE REVELATIONS ON ME AND RUIN HER BIRTHDAY.
Veronica: .oO(I’m going to die in a fire, aren’t I.)
Veronica: .oO(I hope I get to start it, at least.)
Kent: I HAVE TO GET ALL THIS CEREAL OUT OF MY MOUTH BEFORE THE CAKE SLIDES INTO MY FACE!
This is why you should fire your butlers when kids are born.
Poppy: In a house in the forest lived three bears.
Veronica: .oO(Snopes busted that one already.)
Poppy: Ugh, well, this one’s full of product placement.
I guess if all other media fails you can always try physical interaction.
But it hasn’t been as rigorously focus-tested, so you’re on your own.
Poppy: SHE TELEPORTED ME INTO THE CORNER AND SUMMONED HER FATHER!
No, I just omitted like a billion pointless images.
Poppy: YOU’LL NEED A BETTER COVER STORY THAN THAT
Michael: I’m gonna make you eat every one of those she doesn’t touch.
Poppy: Listen very closely, Veronica. Mommy needs to teach you how to shit straight through your dress.
Michael: This is information I do not require.
Poppy: Childhood sure is a magical time.
Poppy: Say “Mommy!”
Kent: This place needs more bottles.
Nobody is that happy to teach the words “high chair” to their kid.
Poppy: You don’t know Simlish. Once you figure out “high chair” the rest is a snap…
Poppy: …your neck if you don’t stop it with the MOTHER FUCKING BOTTLES
Poppy: You cunt
Veronica: FEED HIM MY POOOOOOOOP
Poppy: I’m counting those as her first real words.
Poppy: And considering them as a birthday request.
I know lots of academic writers who seem equally self-satisfied.
Kent: AND THAT’S NOT THE HALF OF IT
Garbagecan: -is inanimate-
Poppy: Didn’t you go home?
Kent: Yes, but I forgot that I don’t have one.
Michael: Your lips are huge.
Michael: And I think we’re being robbed.
Poppy: No, he’s just the world’s most overt peeping tom.
Wow, your lips are huge.
Poppy: Did you forget to pay him or something?
Kent: I can tell when I’m not wanted.
Michael: Hmm, I think Snopes covered that one too.
Michael: What’s this seaweedy taste?
Poppy: Whale sperm.
The magic words.
Michael: What put the spark back in our relationship?
Poppy: Kent was throwing off a lot of hormones today.
Kent: I’ll pick them all back up while you sleep.
Poppy: I may never sleep again.
Poppy: Alright, this one’s true. It’s about a man who went to live with bears, and the woman who loved him and later shared several bear stomachs with him.
Veronica: I don’t see why they would want to eat bear stomachs.
Poppy: Don’t be a smartass.
Poppy: DON’T BE A DUMBASS
Or fine, fall on your ass. Whatever.
Man, if your fetish is weirdly crumpled women, this is your lucky day.
Poppy: Mommy’s little girl is a genius!
Veronica: Yeah, walking sure is a new thing I’ve been innovating here.
Poppy: You’re everything I ever dreamed of, Virginia.
Veronica: Who the heck is Virginia?!
Poppy: I DON’T KNOW
Veronica: Let’s leave that plotline dangling. Bye!
Yikes. Almost two hundred pics with the Whittakers.
No wonder I stopped writing for half a year.
Next time: Pinocchio, but with robots.
(Spoiler Alert: it’s about a wooden doll who becomes a real boy after he gets eaten by robots.)