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A.18 It’s Time to Rethink High-Protein Diets for Weight Loss

Hello.  Good day.  Hola.  Guten tag.  Sooooo…how’s everyone been?  How’s your mom? I know it’s been like forever since we last visited with our favorite little diseasey Sims family, but I have great news for everyone….they’re back!

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Hey, Alopecia, where are you going?  I said….
mpadbd

“Nuh uh, I don’t have to do this if I don’t want to…Daddy, tell them I don’t want to!”

“Hm?  Did someone say something?  I thought I heard a voice…it’s probably just in my head.”


“It’s your offspring, you nincompoop.  Stop standing here in the rain like a dunce and go feed the female kitten; she’s hungry.”

“I…have a female kitten?”


So.  Looks like things are basically just as they have always been, even though our last update was, oh, two years ago.  Sorry, peeps.  Blame the lag…it was killing us all. Whenever I could squeeze out any time to actually play, it took ages and ages just for the game to load up, and then it took more ages and ages for anyone to do anything, so I moved everyone into a new town to try to fix things.  And then I forgot that I moved them, so I was going to move them again, but then this face unexpectedly appeared at the door….behold.


This, friends, haters, and everyone in between, is August Woods, and if that preteen face doesn’t scream “heir spouse material,” I don’t know what does.  Also her name begins with “A.” Also it’s August (or…it was when I first wrote this…).  It’s perfect.  SHE’S perfect.

“Perfect, y’say?  I call dibs, ya’ll.”


“Jus’ let me take a moment to get on down off this giddy uppidy horsey for I can go reel her on in…sorry, little stripey, I got me another little filly to be breakin’ in.”


Ah, yes.  Mixing up country metaphors.  Not even the most disturbing part of this dialogue. At any rate, August seems to have already moved on to the house next door…

“S’all right, ain’t too late to get ‘er done!”


Hmmm…on second thought, better hold off, Rex.  Looks like I was wrong about the “pre” in “preteen.”

“Oh no siree bob, I ain’t gon’ be throwin’ that beaut back without a fight!”


“Hello there, ma’m.   I came all the way out here t’ invite you inside, on account of it bein’ such a wet night out and you wearin’ not much more than a paper napkin an’ all.  A purty napkin, that is.  Them you might find at a particular’ fancy dinner or whatnot.”


Smooth, Anorexia.

“What?  I said a FANCY dinner.”


“Is she coming?”

Uhm, no, I don’t think so, Rex.  It looks like she’s got business over there…

“Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?  Say yes, say yes, ’cause I need to know!”

“Oh no, did I order another cheerleader on Amazon again…?”

“….why you gotta be so rude?”


Don’t worry, though, Rex, I think your dad has found a cowgirl to replace her with.


“Howdy, pardner, reckon you got some candy you can slip in this here bucket?”

“Why, of course, dear!  Only thiiiiiis much, though, you know it must be close to your bedtime!”


“Wait…we’re talking about real candy here and not some kind of wink wink nudge nudge metaphor, right?”

“Oh, of COURSE, sir!  Although I sure wouldn’t say no to a Mr. Goodbar with my Whatchamacallit, iffin you know what I mean….”

“Ah…didn’t someone say something about a kitten needing my attention somewhere inside??”

 “Hm….well, it appears that I found the kitten cage, but there’s nothing in here but another one of those kids.  Hey little girl!  Have you seen a hungry kitten around?”

“You weally ahw a nincompoop.”

“Oh, well, you’re probably tired of being trapped in that cage, so here you go, little girl…now you get to be tall, like a big person!  Doesn’t that sound like fun!”  ::wanders aimlessly away::

“WHAT.  WAIT.  YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME FOOD….!”


“aaaAAAAhaaa….aaaAHHHHHaaaa….Ugh, it’s so hard to work on my runs with that baby screaming, ‘Dactone.  How inconsiderate of her.”

“You said it, pal of mine!”


“Oh hi Nugget, I’ll bet all that screaming is hurting your ears, huh.  Here, have some treats to take your mind off it….it’s SUCH an inconvenience when babies cry for no reason.”

“I WANT FOOD!  I WANT TO BE BIG SO I CAN GET MY OWN FOOD!  I HATE BEING SMALL!!  FEED ME!!!!!!”


“Aw, poor li’l moppet.  Here, I’ll split half of my melted ice cream with ya…I know you can’t use a straw, so I’ll jus pour it in this here bowl for ya.”

“Bald child, do you really think it’s a good idea for your younger siblings to be eating melted ice cream for dinner?  As eldest, I really do think it must stand to you to do something about this.”

“You’re right, Snowy.  I’ll go to Mother right now and demand an explanation!”


“Mo-THER.  There is a situation in the kitchen that you need to rectify IMMEDIATELY. Anorexia has let all the chocolate ice cream melt, and now he and Amnesia are eating it all and haven’t left me ANY, and they KNOW that chocolate is the ONLY THING that PROPERLY LUBRICATES MY VOCAL CORDS, and I need you to go out right now and buy me some NON MELTED chocolate ice cream.  And also I need a story.”

“Kid, I stopped listening somewhere around ‘melted chocolate’ and started fantasizing about giant chocolate fondue fountains instead.  ‘Fraid you’re on your own with whatever it is you’re complaining about now.”


“Hrmph, like THAT’S really anything new….”

“I hears you, mah brotha.”


“C’mere, squirt, all that chocolate talk has made mama hungry.  Say hi to The Claw.  Claw, meet the squirt.”


“The Claw hungers, Squirt.  It actually hungers for chocolate, but eh, I suppose a poopy little boy will do just as well.”

“Oh my Llama, if I wasn’t poopy before, I def’nitely am now……”


“Ahem.  F’get about badly done, walls-down scween shots, it’s time to focus on me and the fact that I have magically escaped from my high chair.”


“Weaders, we all know no one ever pays attenshun to me, so this can onwy mean ONE TING…..”


“….I am finawy about to weave the confines of this tiny wittle body and be a weal girl now!  Good-bye sitting in poopy diapers all the time!  Good-bye surwiving on stale cat food!  Good-bye to sweeping on the floor because nobody remembered to put me to bed…”


“….hello, anarchy, destruction, and bloodshed!  Revenge shall be mine!!”


“…never mind.  Guess I’ll just be a boring normal kid after all.  By the way, that chair is stupid.  Like everything else.”

Everyone, Amnesia.  Who is mean spirited.  Shocker.

“Hmmm….football.”


“Uhm, hel-LO.  Can we please go back to focusing on more important birthdays?  Namely…mine.  Behold!”

Oh…whoops, sorry, guess I forgot it’s also your birthday.  You got Unlucky as your next trait.  Sorry, kid.

“Unlucky my beautiful foot!  I have HAIR now!”


Erm, no, Al, sorry…but hey, -I- personally think the bald looks suits you!

“Well, of COURSE it suits me…EVERYTHING suits me!  Even my daddy’s nasty stank armpits suit me.  And that is why I, Alopecia Simptoms, am here to announce my intent to run for President of the United States.  I thank you all in advance for your votes tomorrow. I know you will all make me very proud.”

Uhm, Al, honey, that’s not how it….you know what, sure, why not.  I present to you guys our new candidate for POTUS.  I’m with him, to make America…okayish…again.

SO that’s it for now, you all and all ya’ll.  If you’re of age and reading this in the good ol’ US of A, make sure to go out and cast your votes for whoever makes you feel the most froggy tomorrow.  If you’re reading this from anywhere else…well, the good ol’ US of A could use as many well wishes as you’ve got, so lay ’em on us.  Tune in next time (which will hopefully be in less than two years) to find out what happens next, and, as always, thanks ever so much for reading!  Kiss kiss!

Call the Doctor

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