BoB: Security

This BoB covers Steven Janes who found Hayleigh's purse, he met her at a coffee shop at the airport. He is the son of Parker, the generation four heir. I'd suggest skimming this chapter and perhaps generation four.

   "I didn't steal it from her."
   "Are you sure?"
   "Yes, sir." I sighed. I'd being walking through the airport nonchalantly, holding Hayleigh's, whose surname I didn't happen to catch, purse and some lovely airport patron had decided to alert security that a black teenager was holding a women's purse while being black, therefore I deserved to be dragged into a small, gray concrete room and interrogated. At least all they'd done was stare at me with steely grimaces and shout at me, I could be beaten and bruised.
   "Whose purse is it?"
   "A Ms. Hayleigh's, we were chatting at the coffee shop, she left, I noticed she left her purse and decided to try and return it to her."
   "What's her surname?"
   "I don't know."
   "And the contents of the purse?"
   "I don't know, I didn't want to invade her privacy, so I didn't look inside it."
   "If we find this woman and she says that she's missing, say a cell phone or cash, will we find it on your person?"
   "I have money with me, since I had to pay for my coffee somehow and I have my phone, which you confiscated along with the purse. I didn't steal anything from her."
   "Do you know anything about this Hayleigh woman?"
   "She's told me that she's going to Oregon and she graduated high school recently, so she's like eighteen."
   "Oregon, you say? Jim, check the flight rosters, see if there's a Hayleigh."
   "May I please go, sir, I don't want to miss my flight."
   "We're going to hold you until we find the woman whose you're supposedly returning."
   "Please, sir. I swear, I didn't steal it." I silently sighed, exasperated. A third of Chicago was black; I thought they'd be less likely to racially profile someone, I shouldn't be stuck here for trying to do something decent. The security man cast me a sideways glance, as if to suggest I should hush up and learn where my place was.
   "Hailey is spelled how?"
   "H-A-Y-L-E-I-G-H."
   "Thank you."

Photographs + A Post With No Substance

As you may have guessed from the title, this is a post of no substance. When you read that title you either had one of two reactions, you either:

         A) Thought "Whhhaaa..? Why would should publish something with no it content? Does the title count as content? Was she so lazy that she couldn't even give us those musing she had in the shower this morning? Or is she just uninspired. 

         B) Why would she declare that the post has no decent content? Isn't that a bit redundant, considering everything else she's published?

You didn't have any other reaction, because dammit this is America and were so egotistical we don't even acknowledge the other countries in North America or the fact that South America exists. (I know, South America, like whhhhhaaa...? What are they good for, coffee beans, bananas, and soccer? And carnival? Phhhffttt, North American privilege.) Did you know that my South American readership is incredibly low? As is my Australian and Asian and Africian and European and the host the United States parts of North America. Shocking, right?

I'm get off topic. Or no a tangent. I'm either on or off something. 

What was I saying? *rereads the nonsensical #sleeplessrambles (#withlovereference) I've written* Oh, yeah. 

Dammit, this is America and if you can't check one of the two boxes that we give you, we don't really care. 

Except that I do care about my lovely readers, so my point is essentially pointless other than a generalization of the country I'm a citizen of. 

Isn't it weird how citizenship in the USA works? You came out of a uterus on our soil, so you're our's.

Huh. Tangents are things that I do. In fact that I've got so many tangents, I'm practically opposite over adjacent, I'm like sine over cosine... Or is it cosine over sine? Damn trigonometry. 
My point though....

If you thought A: I believe the title doesn't count as real content and don't think about me thinking about things in the shower, because all my knowledge dissipates as soon as I turn he water off and it's a bit woeful. 

If you thought B: Plllłllffffhhhhhhbnllurhhhhhh! That was the sound of me sticking out my tongue and making a noise that signifies my displeasure with you. 

I also thought of something relevant to what I wrote above about the USA. The Fourth of July is coming  up on a day that I think is Sunday *counts the days on her fingers*.... It's Sunday and Rye's pregnant and in a striped bikini. What's more American than that, other than pretty much anything and everything else? Happy Independence Day, those of you who celebrate it. I suppose that a pregnant so my who've I've been giving you bump photos of for months, which is a considerably long time considering that this legacy ended like a fourth of a year ago...

Huh... I wonder if you're thinking of- HOLD UP. I've got an idea. Imagine the following as a tumblr conversation. If you don't have a tumblr, go sign up, follow theantisocialchinchilla, come back, read this, then share this blog on tumblr. You're welcome. This will launch your tumblr famedom*.

Me: I know what you're thinking. 

What I think you're thinking: Isn't posting random streams of rambles degrading your decent, subject related content and taking the blogs focus away from your sims legacy?

What you're actually thinking: I'm not thinking what you think I'm thinking. 

*Will not actually launch your tumblr famedom, I just made that up so you'd promote me because I'm an attention... I like free publicity for the things I use my mind to think of and use my fingers to type. Englishing is hard. 

I'm brilliant, am I not? Do not say I am not because that rude and why the hell are you reading- Uhhhhh, I mean I welcome all opinions on this blog because I can TOTALLY take constructive criticism. Also, if you want to share my wonderfullness, made up words, and legacy writing, feel free to share meh blog on all the social of the medias. 

Except LinkedIn because nobody uses that and isn't that like a Jobs-Yes-Jobs-Where-Can-I-Get-One-Of-Those? 

Instagram, though? Sure. #NoFilter #AwesomeLegacies #Sims3 #ThingsYouArentReadingAndDontNeedTo #IMeanDoNeedTo #Oops #RelevantEmoji 

Pinterest? Yesss. Pin his straight to your blogs you should be reading board, your sims 3 legacy board, your this board is dedicated to insane people on the Internet who think they have some sort of following board, just all the boards. Go ahead. 

Facebook? I guess. Three people like this. Also, your weird aunt is telling you that Bob isn't doing well. 

Tumblr? HELL, yeahs + see above. 

MySpace? Wait, people use that still? Okay...

Yahoo! Answers? Is this really social media? I mean, yeah, okay, but is that really social media?

Wordpress? Yassss...

Blogger? Yesssss... 

Basically share me because you love me. 

Just be nonchalant about the love because I have issues with the whole you expecting me to say it back thing and I might need a therapist, oopsies that's a bit personal, is it not?

Changing the subject, here's those photographs of Ryelynn I promised:

xx,
Jill

#LoveWins

 As many of you may know, today, Friday, June 26, 2015 the United States Supreme Court ruled 5 to 4 that ALL fifty states require same-sex couples to be wed. I attempt to avoid being political, other than my support of marriage equality and the LGBT community, because this isn't a political blog or a personal blog, it's a Sims 3 legacy blog. 

I live in one of the thirteen states that had yet to legalize same-sex marriage, it frustrated me so much, listening to everyone who opposes it, and I just wanted to say that I, Jill, and this legacy, The Janes Legacy, supports marriage equality and the Supreme Court's decision. Finally, finally a historic decision that's been needed for an insanely long time has been made and five Supreme Court Justices were on the right side of history.

I'm fairly certain that June is a lovely time of the year for a wedding, a wedding between two people of the same-sex who love and care for each other.

In case you doubt it, Hazel and Rosie prove that it is, indeed.

xx,

Jill

BoB Anderson Two: News

   "I brought something special for tonight." 

   "Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. It had been nine days since the truth or dare game and she hadn't visited my desk or lab space since, tonight was different, apparently. 

   "I'll show you." We entered the professor's office, as I glanced around, looking for something special.

   "Here." She handed me an envelope, that I immediately ripped open. Skimming the official looking paper.

   "I... I'm the next lab assistant?"

   "Yes!" She squealed, hugging me. "This is great, isn't it?"

   "It is... I cannot believe, I know you said, but I thought that I'd upset you."

   "Why? I've been avoiding you cause I wasn't suppose to tell you until the paperwork was written and printed, so if that was it, don't fret."

   "The kiss."

   "That? Pfth. I've have like seven other lab mates kiss me, I don't care, apparently you guys haven't got the I'm awkward and may seem to be flirting but am actually just being nice memo."

   "Wait you-"

   "I never kissed them again. I never wanted to." She shrugged. "It's not a big deal... Wanna play tic tac toe?"

   "Sure." I replied, still hung up on the seven other lab mates were in my place thing.

   "Okay... Wanna make it more fun?"

   "Yes." I nodded, wondering how we could.

   "After each game, the loser has to remove a piece of clothing. We stop when someone's naked. You game?"

   "I might-" She was a beautiful woman who I might get to see without clothes, I was a horny twenty year old, of course I was game. "Yes."

   "Great." She took a piece of paper, drawing the board, I put an X, she put an O, and we went back and fourth, until I was declared the loser. "Lose the shirt, blondie."

   "How enticing." I rolled my eyes, slipping off my t-shirt. We played once more, she lost and took off her jacket, then she lost again, slipping off her dress. I had to stop for a few seconds, staring at her lacy panties and bra. She rolled her eyes, clearly unabashed.

   "We're playing more. If I'm going to freeze my butt off while the AC is on full blast, you're going to, too." She drew another board, a few seconds later, I was in my boxers. "This might be our last game."

   "It might be." I agreed, sitting in an office chair, knowing that if I lost strip tic tac toe, I'd never live it down, as long as I worked with her. I drew the board this time, letting her go first. She placed an X, then I placed an O, then she put an X in another corner. I blocked her three in a row with an O, as she pouted, drawing an X in the opposite corner. "Did you mean to do that?" I asked, staring in disbelief at the paper. If I drew an O, I'd win, leaving her to reveal more flesh.

   "I-I. Dammit! Guess you can remove my bra." I stared at her, as she stood, her hands on her hips, waiting for me. "Are you going to or are you going to force me?" She didn't wait for an answer, she slowly moved her hands to her back, as the flimsy fabric was thrown to the side, revealing her bare chest. 

  "You're..."

  "Practically flat, I know."

  "I was going to say topless."

  "Perceptive." She giggled, stepping closer, as I felt the twisting feeling, longing, hoping that nothing embarrassing would happen, that it wouldn't show. "I'm bored with tic tac toe…" She murmured, stepping a bit closer, as I began blushing. I could smell her lotion, lavender, practically feel the warmth of her skin on me, she was centimeters away. "Say the word, I won't." She moved herself onto my lap, her legs hanging over the chair arms, her chest pressed against mine as she began kissing me. 

   "Yes..."

   "I wasn't just being nice and I wanted to kiss you again." With that, no other words were uttered, as she kissed me, arching her back away so I could lower my tongue to her chest, as she groaned in pleasure, her hands cascading down my back, pulling at the elastic of my boxers. 

Bit of Boring: Hayleigh

This BoB covers Steven and Chase Janes' quest to find their birth mother Calina Rice, they're the children of Parker Janes, the generation four heir. I'd suggest skimming this chapter and perhaps generation four.

   "Dude, the layover's killing me. Three hours? What the hell are we supposed to do for three hours?"
   "I dunno. Buy over priced coffee?" I shrugged, as Chase flipped through Instagram profiles that belonged to women named Calina, our mother's name. "Isn't it creepy, looking for her online?"
   "A bit..." He sighed, turning off his phone. "How else do we find her? We know nothing about her, she could have changed her last name, gotten married, hell dyed her hair, actually be dead..."
   "Why are you so goddam pessimistic?" I bitterly asked. We'd been so optimistic when we flew to Atlanta, a Calina Rice who was in her late thirties was preforming at a night club named Glitz Gallant, however when we arrived there it turned out that the half Cambodian half French Canadian woman's name was Carolina, not Calina, the online advertisement had been mistyped. After that, we had very few leads, so we decided to fly to Chicago, than head overseas to Paris, Rome, Venice, and Berlin. We'd been stuck in Chicago longer than expected, curtsey of the bitter summer storms.
   "Sorry Steven, but we have no leads and we're running low on funds, I'm just being realistic. It isn't like dad's gonna fund our search, especially because he thinks we should be content with Holly." Holly Janes, formerly Holly Parlin, had been our mother figure for the majority of our childhood and the mother of our three half brothers, Hunter, Trevor, and Blake. "I mean, this is great, but what happens if we cannot find her? What is she doesn't want to be found? Or she had other kids or something? She left us for a reason and it pisses me off to say this, but maybe we should respect that."
   "You weren't saying that when we were trying to convince dad to let us go!" I exclaimed, bolting up from the terminal's uncomfortable black faux leather seats.
   "I'm tired, I'm hungry, that brings out the worst in anyone... Just, look, I'm gonna attempt to nap."
   "I'm gonna go get food." I grabbed my backpack and walked away, aggravated. Chase was all for finding our mother, until it got complicated, than he was content with resigning himself to the fact that it was unrealistic. A small part of me knew that in a world of billions of people, even with social media and the internet and everything, we may not find her, however I wasn't going to admit that, I had to stay hopeful.
   I stood in line for the coffee shop, as a fluorescent light beat down on me. The barista looked tired, overworked, as I ordered a small latte. There was only one other person, besides the barista, in the shop, which was odd for O'Hare; it was supposed to be busy, I'd thought, even though I was here at one am, waiting for my redeye flight.
   I grabbed my coffee, glancing to see that it was for a Stephen, not Steven, a small detail that wasn't worth bitching about like a pretentious person who thought they were superior.
   The other person here, a raven haired woman whose arms were crossed on the table, her head on them, like she was playing an elementary school game of heads up seven up. She was whimpering, an odd noise for a sleeping person.
   "Are you okay?" I asked, not expecting an answer.
   "Whaaa?" She looked up, her face red, tears streaking her pasty complexion. "Who the hell are you?"
   "Um, Steven Janes." I replied, shuffling awkwardly. "You're crying."
   "Way to go, captain obvious." She rolled her eyes, picking at a scone that sat on a brown paper napkin in front of her. "Sorry. I'm upset."
   "I can tell." I glanced at the clock on the wall, I had at least two and a half hours before I needed to return to my spot with my brother.
   "You can sit." She gestured to the seat across from her. "Isn't like I have anyone else to save the seat for."
   "Okay..." I paused, hesitantly, pulling out the chair. I placed my latte on the metal table, as she glanced at it.
   "Stephen, you said?"
   "It's actually Steven with a V, not a P-H."
   "Okay, Steven with a V, not a P-H, I'm Hayleigh, with a H-A-Y-L-E-I-G-H."
   "Nice to meet you." I stuck out my hand, as she glanced at it, wiping her eyes.
   "How gentlemanly." She shook my hand, firmly, before nibbling part of her scone.
   "What's up?"
   "I swear to God, if you expect me to say the sky or roof or anything, I'll assault you."
   "No- I, Jesus, anger issues much?"
   "Sorry, I'm-"
   "Upset. Yeah, we established that."
   "My boyfriend was supposed to fly here to see me graduate high school yesterday."
   "I was supposed to fly to Paris."
   "He didn't come. He's in college in Oregon and apparently has met some tramp who is a senior and likes sophomores who are majoring in English Lit. Apparently she buys him beer and is better than a high school senior."
   "My flights delayed... I think you win the pity contest."
   "If I knew it was a contest I would have told you that we'd been dating since I was a freshman and I was gonna be valedictorian, only he's the principal's cousin's paperboy and he got him to revoke the award at the last minute."
   "That sucks." I replied, attempting to empathize with the attractive girl who had just had a mental break down in an airport coffee shop in Chicago. "So why are you here?"
   "I was gonna fly back to Oregon with him today. He called me the night before my graduation and told me that we were done, so I couldn't get a refund or anything on the ticket."
   "So you're going to Oregon?"
   "I don't know. My flight leaves in an hour."
   "I hear Oregon's nice."
   "You've been?"
   "No. Haven't had a need to."
   "Huh. Want to?"
   "What?"
   "I have two tickets. We could B.S. it, pretend you're Sir Goddamn Jack-"
   "Do you know how airport security works?"
   "You do?"
   "Yeah."
   "You're what, eighteen? This is like your first flight?"
   "Uh huh, and? Also it'll be my third?"
   "Third? Gosh golly darn jeepers, you're ready to pilot a plane!"
   "I could be. You don't know me."
   "Are you?"
   "No."
   "So I was right." She smiled slightly, a smile that contrasted with her red eyes, the tears that were still lingering on her cheeks.
   "You want me to fly to Oregon with you?"
   "No. We could trade. You're going to Paris, so I figured you're going with someone, city of love and all that B.S."
   "I'm going with my brother."
   "What, are you from the south?" She giggled slightly, than paused. "If you are from the south, I didn't mean to insinuate that they;re okay with inscest."
   "I'm not." I sipped my latte, burning my tongue slightly, as she stood up, carrying the crumbly remains of a British pastery and a biodegradable napkin.
   "I should be going." She threw away her trash, turning to face me. "You're cute."
   "You're direct."
   "And cute?" She smiled, innocently, fishing for a compliment.
   "I guess." I agreed, as she, someone I didn't know how to describe, sauntered away in dirty sneakers, jean cutoffs, and a physcodelic, tie dyed Nirvana muscle croptop.
   The barista pointed a finger at me, as I glanced around.
   "What?"
   "Purse. She left her purse."
   "Oh..." I glanced underneath the table to see a leath bag studded with gold spikes. I picked it up, giving it to them.
   "Dude, I don't wanna deal with it... Try lost and found or chase after her, it's been like ten seconds since she left."
   "Oh. Yeah. Yeah it has." I turned to look at the exit, only to see that she was gone.
   Great, I was a black teenager with a white lady's bag in a highly trafficed airport. This wasn't going to look bad at all.

Bob: Tiffani and Her Diary

This chapter is told from the perspective of a teenage Tiffani, Alyce Janes', the generation one founder, daughter. It's the fourth "sequel" to this chapter and the third "sequel" to this BoB and the second "sequel" to this BoB and the first "sequel" to this BoB.

Fifteen: June July 8th

   I forgot that it was July and it's been June July for a week now! We only have about another month, give or take a few weeks, before school is back in session. Can you believe it?! I'll be a high schooler...

   Do you think high school is like the movies? I know one aspect isn't, the boys. Yeah, B-O-Y-S. They're all hot and stuff in movies, but IRL? Ew! No, I mean people, c'mon. They're at the height of their immaturity and puberty and, ugh... I'm getting flashbacks from the sex talk conversation the "talk" I had with mom. 

   I'm not sure what I'll do with the rest of summer... Write, obvs.

   Text Cassie, who's fam is going  on a vacay trip vacation this week so no seeing her, which SUCKS, because we're BFFs. (BFFs or BFF's? Is there an apostrophe??)

   I know I was gonna daily write, but my life is a bit dull, so I don think I could do that. 

   Diary, do you think my life's dull?

   You're a book diary journal paper, so you obviously don't know, but STILL. 

    I'm hungry, I think I'll go get some popcorn and watch YouTube videos... Do you know YouTubers write books?! Yeah, and they make $$$ (money!!). 

   I don't like video editing, though so that career isn't for me. 

    Well, I'm gonna going to go leave you. 

      Farewell,

          Tiff

P.S I KNOW that this is suppose. To be a photo diary, but stupid (trying to be nicer...) iCloud is having issues and my printer isn't one with wifi/blue teeth Bluetooth so I'm having trouble with the photo aspect...

Bit of Boring: Tiffani's Third BoB Diary Entry

This chapter is told from the perspective of a teenage Tiffani, Alyce Janes', the generation one founder, daughter. It's the third "sequel" to this chapter and the second "sequel" to this BoB and the first sequel to this BoB.

Thirteen: July 4th

   Happy birthday, America! We turn, uh... Three hundred? Two hundred? I don't know, but I got to see FIREWORKS, so it doesn't matter. I like fireworks, even though Cassie says it's baby-ish to.
  Speaking of baby-ish, it just occured to me that mom might have a baby with Harry. He's older (not old, old... EW) and she isn't even forty yet! I don't know if I want another sibling... Hm... 
   No thank you to the baby.
   I like babies but I don't want to have another sibling, it's be thirteen (I forgot to count the time in the womb) fourteen years younger than me! I mean, when it reaches my age, I might have children, cause I think I want them,but I dunno, and that would be WEIRD. I don't want my sibling to be closer to my child's age than it is to me.
   Alsom how do you use than and then?
   Grammar confuses me, but I wanna be a writer author so I should learn better. Hopefully high school will help me, because I am taking English One, though they, they being teachers, write it English I. Hm... Greek Roman Numerals make it look fancier.
   I think my best subject is English, even though in middle school they call it language arts and I am not great at grammer. I will learn than I will be an amazing author.
   Mom says my optimism is inspiring, but I'm not a super optimistic person, I KNOW I'm gonna  going to be an author. Not just an author, but an illustrious one. No, an an illustrator an ILLUSTRIOUS one. The expanding my vocabulary thing is going magnifigent. 
   Back to babies, I think it'd be weird having another sibling.
     Hm... I think I'll convince Jamie to ask mom that.
         Not Wanting A Sibling,
                   Tiff

Fourteen: July 5th

   Jamie aked mom if she was pregnant at breakfast this morning. The conversation went a bit like this:

   Jamie: Are you pregnant?
   Harry: *Chokes slightly on orange juice* Alyce...
   Mom: No, no! Jamie *laughs* do you think I'm fat?
   Jamie: *Glares at me* Tiffani wanted to know, I thought it was a weird-
   Me: Intrusive works instead of weird.
   Jamie: *Rolls eyes* Intrusive question.
   Alex: We'd be told if she was.
   Mom: Exactly, why are you asking, darling?
   Me: *Blushes* Well, uh... I dunno. I think it'd be peculiar to have a sibling who is so much younger than me.
   Harry: Don't worry, your mom and I don't have any intentions of having a child together, I love you three like you guys were my own children.
   Me: *Relieved* Oh. Okay.

   And than mom came and talked to me after breakfast. She asked me if I was worried I was going to be replaced and I said no. And she hugged me and said we needed to talk about something and I thought it was going to be another thing about the marriage and how it didn't change anything and she wasn't replacing anyone and Harry loved us all and she knew that it might take us awhile to adjust to the changes, but it wasn't.
   It was weird odd. It went like this:

   Mom: Tiffani, I've been putting this off for awhile... You know what sex is right?
   Me: *Blushes* Yeah... I mean, I go to public school and I read books and watch TV... Why?
   Mom: Well, I haven't had this talk with you, but you're thirteen, so I figured I should do it now before it's too late.
   Me: *Accidentally says it out loud* Too late?
   Mom: When you've have sex, regretted it, have an STD, or are pregnant.
  
   And the rest is two too embarrassing to write. I'm blushing right now. Literally dying. The color of a ripe tomato, currently.
           The Embarressed,
                  Tiff