A recent conversation with someone about the Sims reminded me of some dark secrets from my past.
Is it sadistic that I hated Mortimer Goth? He was smug, he had more facial hair than me, he always wore a suit and my dude could only afford trackpants. He had his life together, he had a job, a wife, children. You know something's wrong when a virtual person is living better than you.
Look at him. What a jerk.
Today I remembered the last time I played the Sims. My little brother and I had fun hitting on Bella Goth and making friends with their children. Then, when he came and knocked on my Sim's door (which was pretty much everyday - Mortimer's probably the neediest friend you could have), I invited him into my fenced off backyard, built a wall around him and left him in there with only a plate of cookies and a pinball machine. Is that so wrong?
...Turns out yes, it was wrong. Eventually, he weed everywhere, threw many tantrums, kept passing out, and then died...all while I was practicing my cooking, and then throwing a party that Bella and the kids came to.
...I think I have problems. Ha.
Seriously though, what a fox.
