30 November 2008

Teleport THIS

The other day, I was approached by a very aggressive Italian fellow who seemed committed to the idea that I was to be his sweetheart. Like most Romeos, this bloke used arguments of feelings to convey his intent; there was nothing rooted in fact and nothing rooted in deed.

"u will be my sweetheart," he cooed via IM.

"Not likely."

"u r my mistress"

"Very unlikely."


Now, I'll chat up anyone at anytime and show respect and compassion. However, as soon as disrespect enters into the other person's words and deeds, well, all bets are off. No negotiation, no warning.

So I did an old trick of mine. I teleported to the Isle of Lesbos, which as you may guess, is not very freindly to the male half of the species. I flew over the main dance area, where gals were slipping and sliding all round each other. Then I IMed the Italian stallion.

"Do you want to join me in my bedchamber?" I asked. Always found the word 'bedchamber' to sound rather like a torture device, but still, it fit the moment.

"yes," he answered in monosyllabic joy.

So I sent him an offer of teleport. He materialized, and fell 200 meters to a lynch mob in thigh-high boots.

21 November 2008

I love newbies that want to bang me.

No, for serious, I do.

The only thing I'm not serious about is saying "for serious" seriously.

In Second Life, newbies that want to pixel-poke me are grotesquely charming and earnest. Expecting an easy bit of somethin'-somethin' from the gothy bit of beauty that I am, they are mortified when I actually engage them in conversation. Admittedly, at the beginning, their opening lines are invariably "hi" followed by the probing "how r u". And before they type the latter, I have already typed, in my 75 WPM way, "fine, thanks for asking. how's your travels today?" and hit ENTER the second after they do.

There is no end to the derisive fun I have by walking in the path of one of these horny bastards - easily identified by the spiky hair (or, bonus, free motorcyclist hair), muppet face (or brooding guy with a goatee) and dark blue sweater and jeans (or big wooden-looking bit of cock jutting out like a divining rod of pussy).

One bloke tried to make a convincing argument that he was destined to be with me and that he wanted me as his first. Barf. When I told him that newbies' ambition trumps their abilities to navigate a bed and text at the same time, he refuted me by saying that just because he is new doesn't make him a good lover. When I asked who he would rather have flying a plane he was on - an experienced pilot or someone with no experience but, by gosh, a whole lot of hope to be a good pilot - he was "dumbfound." His word, not mine. Not dumbfounded, mind you, just "dumbfound." Well, I couldn't agree more.

And I toddled off, watching my own virtual butt sway, thanks to a killer sexy-walk animation override, as I went.

Although I am politely sadistic when it comes to these exchanges, I must take pause to note that I hope, through my sharp (yet never personally insulting) tone, that these boys might talk to the next woman they come across (or, yes, want to come across) with a tad more respect.

20 November 2008

Cops and Whores

Charged with a glass of wine and cigarettes, I wandered through SL last night on my favourite type of quest: an interesting chat. Yes, I must admit that, as much as I like wandering, what I really adore is running into a random man or woman from a random place in the world and chatting them up for a while. To me, there are few things finer in the glorified chat room that is Second Life.

Last night, I came across a newbie (a/k/a person new to Second Life, for those who live only in the real world) and had a touching chat. He is a little over twice my age and is getting into SL because he was retired - but not retired by choice. Years of smoking had given him COPD, so his career as a police officer was cut short. We discussed things he could get up to in SL, and I am happy to report that, of all the things he said he wanted to do, have sex with me was not on the list. As I've said before, I enjoy a good virtual shag now and again, but after a 30 minute chat with someone about lives, careers and situations, I rather don't want to hear, 'well, let's fuck.' He did say I was hot a few times, but, hey, nothing wrong with that. No, in this case, at the end, the only thing I gave him was a folder of landmarks to various free places before bidding him adieu.

Later, I was on a desolate island (having put the word 'desolate' in my search engine) and met a whore. I could not glean much from her, as she was using a translator that itself needed a translator, but I did get that she was a whore in RL and a whore in SL. Regarding the latter, she's also a cheap whore - charging a mere 300 Lindens (about $1.20 in US currency) for a relatively standard cuddle/blow job/fuck episode. However, what struck me was she alternated repeatedly between saying "I want to quit" and "I want more customers." Each time I followed her down either line of thinking, she would jump to the other. She found the act fairly degrading after years of doing it in SL, and hated her avatar, which she had to distort beyond reason (big boobs, huge ass, wide eyes) in order to keep up her virtual lifestyle. Instead of escapsim, here was a girl who actively translated her own misery in the real world into a virtual misery in Second Life. I friended her just before I left, but I have no idea what I'd say to her if I saw her again.

It wasn't the most happy or exciting pair of people I met, and certainly it ranks low on the adventure-o-meter. But I hope that, having met me, they might have had a bit more of a smile. Am I being selfish or hopeful? Probably a bit of both, eh?

19 November 2008

Viewer to a Kill

So I was driving the other day and split a newbie in two. I felt bad, of course. I had just bought those tires, and now I had to get all that newbie blood off of the grooves for fear my car would start acting like a newbie: running into walls, jerking back and forth, overusing gestures and asking women, "were u from?"

I haven't read much about this from any other SL'er, but the new viewer is making me want to strangle some puppies. Thanks to the latest batch of improvements, which includes generally outpacing what my computer can keep up with (and automatically readjusting my settings to "piss poor", I believe it is) and having people materialize as a cloud of vaper (a wiiiiiiiiiild improvement over the greyness of strangers, eh?) for 1 second to about 5 minutes, I now crash more frequently than John McCain over Vietnam. This has curbed my shopping sprees severely - I have only bought one new dress in a fortnight, which is a personal record - as well as taking a great deal of the fun out of my traditional activity of plonking a random word in the search engine and exploring to my heart's content. Even transporting can give me that frozen-moment-in-time feeling just as the Second Life Crash Notice arrives in the middle of my screen.

The other day, though, I was happily united/reunited/introduced to the one and only Olivia Hotshot. Olivia and I met, of all places, on flickr and had been bandying about some chuckles and observations for a few months, it seems. Finally, we met in-world and she was even more frustratingly lovely and kind in virtual person as she is in her flickr photo account. Still, I did have to take a break at one point, as I crashed in the middle of a balloon ride. How embarrassing is that? It's like crapping oneself on a date with a handsome rogue of good breeding. "Sorry, be right back..."
When I get irritated by such things, I tend to seek out newbies and - well, not pick on them, exactly - but pass on my irritation to them. In most cases, honestly, I do like to chat up new folks to SL because they are, for the most part, the nicest people. They haven't learned to be right bitches and bastards yet. But those aren't the ones I seek out. I seek out the ones who read about hot sex on SL from CNN or the BBC and show up with their muppet faces and wooden cock attachments looking to rub one off in time to watch the news. They are easy enough to spot (see Cock, Big Wooden, Attachment Of), so I sort of get in their sights and then mercilessly rip them to pieces. Usually, this takes the form of correcting their grammar, but sometimes, I simply deride them with cruel and intense laughter. Of course the best way to make these morons get stuck in the mud of their own logic, is to chide them with, "Do I want to fuck you? Are you serious? Would *YOU* fuck you? Not likely. So why would anyone else want to?"
Yeh, I'm not the nicest person at times...