The O'Frenzy Uglacy
Warnings: The usual. Foul language, bad jokes, probably completely offensive and shouldn't be read by anybody ever.
And frightened all the dogs, on the rocky road to Dublin.'>
Your beauteous founder, on the lookout for cock. Somewhere in the west of Ireland, a village is missing its idiot.
This is Mackenzie O'Frenzy - Knowledge Aspiration, star sign Cancer, stats completely balanced across the board. He's as bland and multipurpose as they come...aaaaand, yeah. There's a reason for that.
Obligatory LOL WUT A SHITSHACK picture of his house.
And here's a better look at the gorgeous dipwad. Not a lot to him, is there?
Think of his pretty #1 template face as a blank canvas. A canvas upon which GLORIOUS UGLY will reign supreme. Yes, it's one of those legacies.
Once Mr. Humble has been and gone, the first person to show up is Tiffany from the garden club, who gives him an epic dose of the stink-eye. Sorry, Tiffany. You may be a wondrous girl-Brandon Lillard template, but your menopause, like Mr. Humble, has been and gone.
The welcome wagon.
This girl, who I think is a playable. Besides, she's pretty - or as pretty as anyone can look while peering directly down their nose in a 'Eww, who farted?' sort of way.
Nice, but wrong gender. Plus it turns out he's also a Maxis playable. Mackenzie called him later and got a bitchface message from his wife and then another from his teenage daughter, who appears to be in that amusing 'I want to wear make-up but have no clue how to apply it without looking like a transexual clown from the Planet Skank' stage that all teenage girls go through.
And Natasha Una - absolutely NO FUCKING WAY. Playable, in-sane, and kind of gorgeous. (I don't know why, but I can't stand her.)
Mackenzie has no interest in these people anyway.
He discovered his One True Hobby before the mustard was even on the lunchmeat. Up came the pop-up; "I'm so excited I tried that culinary activity!"
Dude...it's a sandwich. God, what are you going to be like when you figure out how to make spaghetti? You're going to soil yourself with excitment. And as for doing stuff like roasting turkey...well, stand well back BECAUSE HIS HEAD'S GONNA FUCKING EXPLODE!
He's thrilled, as you can tell. Woo. Sandwiches.
Natasha? Yeah - somebody's house. Not an internet cafe, k? GTFO.
This just amused me. I've never seen this outfit before.
Mackenzie brings home this oddity from work. His name's Edward Contrary, or Edward Bipolar, whichever way you look at it. Climbed out of the carpool and started making those 'I don't wanna do that shit you make me want to doooooo! I wanna biiiiiiiiiiiitch!' gestures that Sims make.
Edward, I don't want to make you do anything, seriously. Except maybe to leave and stop being weird.
This neighbourhood is swarming with batshit.
Yes, you'd better pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space.
Because there's bugger all down here on the earth.
Okay...are you sitting comfortably?
Now, adopt the crash position, because things are about to get SERIOUSLY EXCITING!!!
Mackenzie...MAKES MOTHERFUCKING PANCAKES!!! INORITE?
*CUE THEME FROM 2001, A SPACE ODYSSEY.*
DUN, DUUUUUN, DUUUUUN...
DAH DAH!!!
*BIG TIMPANI DRUM BUILD UP*
Mackenzie: "Shut up. I'm totally excited."
You don't look it.
No, really. Try to contain your enthusiasm. You didn't even burn them. Do you know how unusual that is? Most legacies start with a carbonised TV dinner.
Soooo...how were the pancakes?
"Meh."
I want to create a Gordon Ramsay Sim to come in and scream "WHERE IS YOUR PASSION? WHERE ARE YOUR FUCKING BALLS, MAN?"
He summons a vague facial expression on the way to work. I don't know if it's because he thinks the fugly tie is awesome or because he thinks the tie is fugly and its fugliness is therefore ~*~ironically cool~*~.
Either way, he needs a slap.
But the shack was getting mucky with all the wild excitment of cookery, so...
Enter the maid.
Holy Smokin' Marisa Bendett face template, Batman!
Oh, that's it. He has got to have this woman. She has nose genes to die for.
But not today, since he's not in to meet her. Instead he comes home and gets stalked by the lamentably pretty Natasha, who clearly has some kinda moistie for him judging by the number of times she calls.
Just to say he got promoted to Spelunker.
And because I love that word. Spelunker. Spelunker. It never gets any less amusing.
Oh, and Edward the Bipolar showed up in the middle of the night to do this when Mackenzie came out to talk to him.
But eventually calmed down enough to come inside and do this.
Oooookay. Desiderata Valley really is an interesting place, isn't it?
The new hours mean that Mackenzie is home to meet the maid, Ashlee.
And he approves.
This is exactly what it looks like.
Oh, you pick a fine time to start having facial expressions, Captain Botox. Yeah, just whip out the what-the-fuck-face when you're talking to the hottest bitch to ever waltz through your front door, why don't you?
And by all means pick a fine moment to demonstrate that you're demonically possessed.
Ashlee: "He's not right, is he?"
He's probably not, honey, no. I would be sorry for what I'm about to put you through...
...if you didn't make it screamingly obvious that you wanted into his bespoke and rather sexy pants.
It later becomes obvious why Ashlee is so desperate. She's a Family Sim.
Bitch, if you turn out to want nine gazillion heterosexual babies so you can attend all their fucking weddings then I am putting your head straight in the personality cooker. And I don't care if you come out all Grilled Cheese.
Ashlee: "Your penis - will it give me babies?"
Only one way to find out!
Family Sims are sooooo easy.
But the nose! If she craps out a boy with that nose it will be epic, I promise.
Ashlee has ambitions to be a Fifties Housewife, so she dresses accordingly and goes mental when confronted with sparkly.
She also brought in twenty grand. Thanks, Ashlee!
Mackenzie: "Where is my house and why is there all this shit on my laaaaaaaawn?"
Oh, Mackenzie - this is what happens in legacies when you net a spouse with teh wonga. All your shit gets thrown out on the lawn and the house gets upgraded. If you just turn around you'll see that your shitshack has turned into a two-storey fixer upper with a foundation. Now go inside and bitch and make barf faces at all the nice new shit I bought you.
There's a good boy.
Oh, snap. Look at the new maid!
Serves me right for being hasty. I missed out on this Paleolithic Princess. Her name is, appropriately enough, Joy.
You will bring me joy, Joy. Just wait until I have a male heir.
Then this showed up. His name is Patrick. I can't decide which is more craggy - the rock in the background or his face.
Patrick: "I rock the Rapa Nui look, bitches."
You so fucking do, Patrick. Mackenzie, get out there and greet that fine piece of fug!
This guy's name is Nawwaf. No, really.
It's the most interesting thing about him.
Patrick: "Oh snap! He got told!"
I think I love you, Patrick.
Trashy undergarments wedding...
And off you go to work in Platinum, Mrs. O'Frenzy. Now go forth and get promoted.
Ashlee: "I'm hooooooooome! I'm AWESOME!"
Yeah, you're okay.
And you're knocked up. Just thought you ought to know.
This never gets old, does it?
Mackenzie enters a food contest. He made salmon. Sharlene thingy made a baked alaska, Julien Cooke made crepes suzette (The goddamned know-nothing showoff.) and Tucker the cop made...hot dogs. He will henceforth be known as Hot Dog to his dying day.
Mackenzie wins! In your FACE, Crepes Suzette!
Hot Dog: "I don't get it! I opened the can myself! And it wasn't even a ringpull or nothin' - I had to use a can opener! And I took hours making those pretty patterns with mustard!"
I like Hot Dog. He's either hilariously stupid or he's got some big solid brass ones.
Mackenzie comes home to his wife - who is face-down in a plate of pork chops. The last thing she wants to hear about right now is food. She has mashed potatoes in her eyes and green beans up her nostrils.
(Incidentally the 'splut' sound effect when they faceplant in food is one of my favourite things about the Sims2. It just sounds so revolting.)
He's completely unconcerned about the gravy in Ashlee's sinuses, however - and fucks off to try and summon aliens. I almost feel like I'm cheating doing this, but it's a legit aspiration benefit.
And you know them aliens got some good ugly!
He goes out there with a torch and a big sign saying "PROBE ME! I'M IRISH!"
They're not feeling him, however.
His work outfit is kind of sexy, however. Try wearing that tomorrow night, Mac. The extraterrestrials may be looking to procreate with Johnny Depp. (I mean, really - who isn't?)
And something does happen the next night...
But not what he was expecting.
It's a girl, Cheerie, seen here with her face mashed into the giant Cold War rocket of Mummy's Fifties tit.
Cheerie? Oh. Um...yes. Cheerie O'Frenzy. Sound it out, kids. Then imagine it in the scrotum-rumbling tones of the late, lamented Summer Blockbuster Guy.
CHEERIE O'FRENZY - WHEN BREAKFAST FOODS GO BAD!
God, this neighbourhood is just full of all kinds of hot.
Natasha turns up, rings the doorbell, wakes the baby and then bitches for no reason.
Natasha, I don't care what Maxis did to you to make you like this (They always like to make their pre-mades in aspiration failure, don't they?), but GTFO off my lawn.
And stop infecting Ashlee with your bitchiness. She's made of enough fail already.
At this point I should mention that Ashlee's designated hobby is Games. She lives at the chessboard or computer and never gets up unless she's starving, nearly unconscious or on the brink of widdling herself. I wish I'd fired her worthless arse while she was still a maid.
Meanwhile, Cheerie's stinking the place up like a good 'un. Where's Mum?
Oh, yapping on the 'phone to Sharon Wirth. Okay. And Dad?
Trying to get abducted by aliens. Good-oh.
Mackenzie: "WAIT! THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO WOOOOOOOOORRRRRK!!!
ASHLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"
Ashlee: "This shit never happened in Doris Day movies, so I am not acknowledging it. La la la, I'm a Fifties housewife with an anachronistic video games obsession - fuck you if you don't believe me."
"ASHLEEEEEEE?!!!"
No dice, Mackenzie. Ashlee has gone to bed for the express purposes of pretending this is not happening.
Later...the aliens return.
They are not pleased.
Aliens: "You dress up some Irish tit as Johnny Depp so we'll probe him? Seriously, who does that?"
Mackenzie: "They didn't like my rendition of The Rocky Road to Dublin???!"
Aliens: "NO, WE FUCKING DIDN'T! GTFO!"
Mackenzie: "...bloody racist aliens...I even offered to play them my tin whistle...and when I got started on James Joyce they all started screaming and running for cover...the gobshites...oh God, why do I feel so violated?"
Mackenzie: "Hello baby - you like me, don't you?"
Cheerie: I love you. You feed me. Sometimes.
Like you didn't see that coming.
And where's Ashlee?
Lost in the end stages of Fifties Housewife Fail, that's where.
Ashlee: "Oh golly gee whizz! I burned the chilli con carne."
*downloads penises for her male Sims*
I'm pretty sure that wasn't how Lucille Ball spent her empty hours, Ash.
Anyway - birthday time for little Cheerie. Don't worry, Ashlee - your knocked up husband will take care of everything.
JUST LIKE HE ALWAYS DOES.
She really is useless. Honestly.
No, she really is useless. Where the hell are your genes, woman?
Cheerie's eyebrows make her look permanently worried.
Cheerie: "Me no be heir?"
No way, kid.
In the light of whatever malformed green monstrosity is nestling between the coils of Daddy's lower intestines, I'd say you've got as much chance as a one legged gazelle dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the lions enclosure at Longleat Safari Park.
Her chin gives me some hope that she might be an interesting spare, at least. That is one determined looking rugrat.
"Mummy will have finished 'putergame. She will."
Ashlee introduces herself to her daughter, makes best-friends, bitches that her carpal tunnel syndrome is playing her up and promptly goes back to being as much use as an ice-making machine on board the Titanic.
Cheerie: "Daddy, why that man nailed to wall?"
Mackenzie: (out of shot) "Because we're Irish, sweetie...oh Jesus. Ooooohh JESUS!!!"
Yes, because while little Cheerie was getting a rudimentary lesson in Catholic Theology 101 (Lesson 1 - He's Dead and It's All YOUR Fault!), Daddy was feeling somewhat...off colour.
Green, one might say.
It's an automatic heir!
A boy - named Spaghetti O'Frenzy. (Look, shut up. I think it's funny.)
Ashlee: "Yaaaaay! Maybe if I celebrate hard enough you'll take pity on me and let my daughter be heir?"
Nice try, Ashlee. But no. No.
You can stop smiling now, Ashlee. I said no.
Next time - birthdays, burglaries, boingy children and the AWESOME RETURN OF HOT DOG! (That sexy bitch)
Thanks for reading!