M is for Myg

Live your god damned dream

Archive for the 'Capers' Category

Crucified campers on a stick

Warning: several campers were crucified during this post. Not suitable for all audiences.

I’m not going to say where, when, or how. But there is a place, up on a hill, where you can see the likes of this on a regular basis:

There are bunches of them, standing with their arms extended, like a frozen aerobics class perhaps, only in worse attire. You speak to them and nobody answers. You rez weird objects and fly them at their heads, and nobody moves.  They are camper zombies, and they must be stopped.

But how? Romana tried to reason with them, but was unsuccessful. Alex drew his gun, fired, but nothing happened. I wanted to hurl insults, but nobody was answering. They weren’t really there. And unlike a long forgotten episode of dragging “away” avatars hovering around camping spots in a casino to a designated mercy killing field, these folks were fixed in their places. Unmovable. Unbreakable. Unstoppable.

So for a brief while, they were sacrificed.

You could almost see their spirits ascending to that digital kingdom in the sky, lifted from the sad and pathetic burden of their hedonistic, materialistic, camperistic lives. The most any of them had made was about $36L. But shortly, the crosses auto-returned, and we were back to our awkward gawking and head shaking.

Campers. Will they ever learn?

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We are the pretty, petty thieves, and you’re standing on our street.

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Okay, this started a couple of weeks ago when this charming man, Wrath, the biggest Morrissey/Smiths freak that ever was, noticed that “Morrisey” was an available SL last name. Someone pointed out that it would be funny if we had a Smiths/Morrissey night at Clockwork and all came with alts with the last name “Morrisey.” Well, hang the dj, that’s a brilliant idea. (And yes, we understand it’s not exactly the spelling of Moz’ last name. Leave the second S off for sorrow. Or something.) We laughed about it and agreed we should. But, as we have brilliant ideas all the time (ha!), we didn’t immediately pursue it.

But last night we started talking about it again and began thinking of first names to go with “Morrisey.” Myg disappeared and then, faster than a hairdresser on fire, this ugly n00b “Myg Morrisey” tp’d into the club. It was on. Soon there was “More,” “KillUncle,” “JellyBean,” “HawksRock,” “Jillian,” and “Suedehead” Morrisey. By the end of the night we had “Sable,” “Nene,” “Piccadilly,” and “Zo.” It won’t stop there.

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Morriseys are against rules. They are anarchic, friendly, and weird.

Morriseys generally travel in packs. Though there are no rules, Morriseys feel more comfortable in the company of other Morriseys. A lone Morrisey is a vulnerable target, and we don’t want to feel more vulnerable than we already do. Also, traveling in packs is a moveable feast, a transient Morrisey mob. While out traveling in packs, Morriseys will be noticed. Don’t panic. Stick together. Ask the people if they like The Smiths or Morrissey. When they say “yes” jubilance ensues. Encourage them to change their last name to Morrisey immediately.

What will come of this? I wouldn’t say, no. But you can bet there will be events, probably parties, sets, and Morrisey Mobs. Eventually, we will outnumber the Lindens. Get your Morrisey now. How soon is now? Today. Join the group -=Morrisey=-. Await instructions.

Update/Morriseys news:
My SLife with the Thrill Kill Morrisey Cult
Wrath Paine in Night of a Thousand Morriseys

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Swear I didn’t mean it – Met a Stranger 32 (Season 1 Finale!)

Haggard, strangled breaths escaped from the near lifeless form of my demonic psychotherapist. I looked at her with disgust, thinking of how I’d poured my soul out to her, only to be betrayed once again. I had come to her out of desperation, looking for answers, admitting my weaknesses, asking for help. And in the end she tried to destroy me.

What a load of bullshit that was.

White heat began to ebb and throb inside of me and that feeling of heavy dense smoke in my brain returned. I saw the look of derision on Moody’s face, even on the edge of her own annihilation, and felt my insides boil.

Argh!

Never again would this bitch diagnose a depressive, not if I had anything to do with it.

Read more

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Out of time – met a stranger #30

I didn’t want to die. Not now. Not like this.

I don't wanna die

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Worst. Therapist. Ever. (Met a stranger 29)

“I am not paying you for this!” I screamed at Dr. Moody.

Vanny lay there mortally wounded, bleeding uncontrollably, her breathing shallow and quick. I thought she and I were dead meat for sure. But I was wrong.

Bad scene about to happen

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Breakthrough – Met a stranger 28

“Vanny, I know you’ve got issues, but couldn’t you find your own therapist?” Damn, I thought, this competition thing with Vanny has gotten out of hand. First she gets Lisa, now she wants my shrink?

Vanny works for Millenia?

“Shut up Myg!” she snapped. I saw another showdown brewing. And it was, but not in the way I thought. Read more

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Welcome to hell, Mygdala – Met a stranger 27

I think I need to fire my therapist.

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On her advice I went out job hunting. She said I have poor self-esteem and that if I become a contributing member of society, my black outs will go away. Well If that was the case, why the hell did I need that stupid blood test?

See, Doctor Moody always has some “intervention” in mind that involves me doing something I don’t want to do. All in the name of growth, reaching one’s potential, etc, etc, blah, blah who needs that crap? All I wanted was a way to stop waking up into someone else’s life. But I got a hell of a lot more than that. Read more

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At long last – met a stranger 25

I can’t believe it–but it must be her. I’m so happy I could just burn!

True colors

After all these years of scouring, I’m sure I’ve found her–the blood test results from Dr. Altamura prove it. Silly girl, going for that test! She must have no idea of her lineage or she never would have gone.

I suppose then nobody has been in touch with her from the family–or if they have, they haven’t revealed themselves for who they really are.

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