SLers guide to NZers - New Zealand Shut for the Holidays

For the two weeks around christmas and new year, New Zealand packs the tent and the bbq, shoves the kids and the dogs in the back of the car and heads for the beach. Summer is seriously underway in the RL southern hemisphere. The pohutukawas (*1) are in full bloom and people head for their favorite camping grounds and family bachs. A bach is a kind of ‘beach cabin’ used just for holidays. They tend to be either flash, new and recently built by wealthy NZers or rich Americans with a Lord of the Rings fetish. Or they are shonky, barely-maintained shacks that have been in a family’s possession for several generations now.

(*1) a prolific, gnarly coastal tree with blood-red flowers that bursts into life in the last two weeks of December. NZers, being on the whole a practical and pragmatic people, call them ‘Kiwi christmas trees’)



This year Beth has use of one of the later types of bach, right on Bob’s Bay in the lovely town of Whaknga (*2) During the day, Beth pretty well has the place to herself, as most of her adopted countrymen are off picnicking like crazy, playing rugby or indulging in the time-honoured Kiwi tradition of slaughtering wildlife. Yes, NZers are keen hunters and fishers. Deer, pigs, possums (*3), hobbits (*4), each other (*5) – Kiwis like to get out there and bag one for the pot.

*2 Quick lesson in pronunciation – wh = f, as in fat; a = ah, as in arse; k = hard ‘c’, as in kick; ng = nasal ‘ng’, as in ring. So Whaknga = fahk-nah

*3 Deer, pigs and possums were all introduced by well-intentioned but bloody idiotic colonizers and now cause havoc with the native flora and fauna. Hence NZers feel duty-bound to dispense with as many of them as possible to make up for their predecessors’ mistakes.

*4 Hobbits are also considered a pest – their enormous hairy feet trample crops and knock out fences with monotonous regularity. Since the success of the LOTR movies, hobbits have become even more uppity and some are even demanding the right to be treated like people! But that is unlikely to happen any time soon…

*5 Hunters shooting each other is also a regular feature of NZ life. Whether this is down to ‘friends’ settling old scores or the stubborn refusal of your average Kiwi bloke to get his eyes tested or admit to needing glasses, it’s hard to say…

And of course, new year’s day - the Glorious 1st – means that dolphin-hunting season officially opens to much merriment and celebration! Now most people seem to have this romantic notion about dolphins being cute, cuddly, friendly creatures –very photogenic and with good TV presence. SL shows worrying signs of having fallen for this misconception. You can hardly move for gamboling delphinidae in some sims – leaping out of the water at you with sinister, leering grins. However, Kiwis know them for what they really are – cunning, vicious gangsters, misusing their considerable intelligence for thoroughly bad purposes. The mayors and councilors of most coast towns in NZ are enmeshed in a constant battle against illegal gambling, credit card fraud and dodgy pyramid-selling schemes. Bob’s Bay is crawling with these denizens of organized crime. So Beth is very happy to do her civic duty by taking pot-shots at the crafty blighters whenever they have the audacity to break surface and laugh disparagingly at the local populace.



So while the RL northern hemisphere and much of SL wrap up warm in hats and scarves, and trudge through Winterfestivaly streets knee-deep in snow drifts, Beth intends to spend the next couple of weeks toasting her toes in the sunshine, sipping Marlborough pinot gris and grilling dolphin steaks on an open fire. Season’s greetings to you all.

Episode 51 – It’s not only the men who can be a nuisance

Beth was having a wonderful time exploring Victorian science-fiction sims. She was playing in rocket ships, getting up-close and personal with Bessemer Convertors, taking submarine rides and generally behaving like a Big Kid. She was wearing her riding breeches and a red hat and thought she was the bees knees. This is what SL is all about, she was thinking.



A female avatar failed to get out of Beth’s blundering trajectory quickly enough, so a conversation ensued
Me “Hi A….! Are you enjoying yourself?”
She “Hi Beth. Yes I am”
Me “This is a great place. So much to do and see!”
Top right screen: ‘A… has offered you friendship’
Whoa there missy, thinks Beth. That’s a tad forward. I’m only saying “hi”. Beth ignores the pop-up
She “Oh yes. Some of these sims are really pretty”
Me “There’s a really cool helicopter ride. I recommend it”



She “I sent you a friendship offer. Did you get it?”
Beth resorts to ‘lame’
Me “Oh – um. Maybe not. But I haven’t worked out what everything does yet!”
The pop-up is still there. Big and blue. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline’
She “I’m from Scotland”
Anxious not to re-emerge too swiftly from her warm bath of SL sim-iness, Beth tries to draw A.... away from RL conversation.
Me “Thomas Stevenson was Scottish. I think they’ve recreated one of his lighthouses near here”
She “Did you get my friendship offer yet?"
The pop-up throbs as a dozen lies put themselves forward for consideration. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline’
Me “Um. Hang on . I’ll have a proper look. I’m gonna climb the lighthouse later. SL is great, isn’t it? You can behave like a Big Kid all the time!”
She “Have you got any kids?”
Yikes! Beth couldn’t give a flying monkey’s shit about this woman’s RL. Especially her kids. What was wrong with her, Beth wondered? Has she not looked around? Does she not have eyes to see?
Me “Er. I’ve got a couple of dogs”
Beth is quickly exhausting her bucket of RL distraction lines. And still the pop-up glows and pulses. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline’. There is nothing in both worlds that Beth wants more at this precise moment than to decline this woman’s friendship. But how? She doesn’t want to be rude. But this woman is going about it all wrong. Beth starts to recall snippets and warnings about people out to get newbies. Is this woman one of them? Has she got evil intentions towards her? Is this all some wicked ploy?
She “I’ve got three kids”
Oh god, nooooo! This is no calculating cyber-villain. This woman is just, tediously, torturously, terminally boring! She’s just come on to SL to look for unwary people who will listen to her banging on about her f**king kids! Presumably because everyone in her RL neighbourhood would rather hide in their house than take the risk of running into her on the street. Beth has to get away. The awful realisation hits her that this scenario could potentially be worse than being stuck in an Irish bar with a whole bevy of sweaty poets…
And still the pop-up of Damocles hangs there above her head. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline. ACCEPT. DECLINE’.
She “My kids showed me how to get into SL. Don’t you want to be friends with me?”
Beth imagines what she would like to do to this woman’s bastard offspring if she ever got hold of them. But then she decides that they have probably suffered enough, considering… ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline. ACCEPT. DECLINE’. What should she do? She’d never thought to ask anyone what you do if you didn’t want to be friends with someone. Is it a major commitment? Can you get rid of them later? Will they know? Can they still find you afterwards and continue to force you to listen to their dreary life story? Beth was starting to panic. What to do? What to do?
She “And I have four grandkids! Why haven’t you accepted my friendship yet?”
Because I would rather tp into the Ancient Rome Gladiator sim with no weapons or even the first clue what the rules of the game are, rather than talk to you for one more nanosecond you boring cow!, thinks Beth
‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline. ACCEPT. DECLINE’. Beth crumbles.
Me “Oh look! There it is! Silly me…”
Beth hits the ‘accept’ button and crosses fingers, toes and legs. Maybe she has bought some time. Maybe someone will know how to get her out of this later.
She “We took the grandkids to Majorca with us this year”
Beth brain forms the truly terrifying image of this woman producing a virtual handbag and pulling out a textures folder bulging with snaps of her and the brats on the beach. Beth can take no more. She falls back on the worst excuse going
Me “Oh sorry A…. I have to go. There’s someone at the door”

Bloody, battered and totally despairing of the socially inept depths to which she was forced to sink, Beth poofs to her secret changing room in the sky. She IMs her nearest online contact and wails about her predicament. She is told that just deleting the Scottish woman's contact will allow her to sink into blissful anonymity once more. Beth makes herself feel better by picking through her ‘To Sort’ folder and imagining what might yet be in all those unopened boxes. But that little niggle still jumps in once in a while. “There’s someone at the door”
Oh, puh-lease….



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Episode 50 – Bloody poets...

Beth is seriously considering forming a SL Group called “No Poets” so she can have the label hovering over head when she goes out. This might give them an unequivocal message, perhaps dissuading them from bothering her or following her home. Now let’s get one thing straight right from the start. Beth is a big SL girl now – she knows there are people in here indulging in all sorts of sensuous, wicked and licentious activities – poetry being one of them. And she is a tolerant person. She knows there are a lot of people out there wanting to write poetry – and a lot of people who want to read it. She has no problem with the fact that these people need to meet up in order to indulge. And knows to expect a certain degree of ‘checking out’ in public places. She doesn’t mind people flicking a few stanzas around on Local Chat to ‘test the waters’. She understands that she might receive the odd IM from some misguided soul who imagines she might be ‘up for it’. She knows there are poetry clubs. She knows there are group readings. Heck, we were all young once – Beth freely admits she has tried poetry herself. But it’s not for her. Beth knows there is a place for poetry in any and all worlds. But she is never going to respond well to a direct encounter with an actual poet. Especially this kind:

Beth was returning from the Blarney Stone after seeing Joaquin Gustav – a fabulous French guitarist who is most certainly on her recommended list of things to do in SL. She was buoyed up on Guinness and in a splendid mood, humming along to the catchy Spanish tune Joaquin had encored with. Then the IM came…
He “Hi Beth. I hear you are a writer. Would you like to see my poem?”
She “Oh, hi N…. Um, I’m really not a great one for poems”
He “I’d like to show it to you”
Beth is getting a bad feeling already. What is it with some guys and this urgent need to have you look at their poems?
She “Hey, really N…. I’d be the worst person to ask. I’m no poet”
He “I’d really appreciate it if you could take a look. I’d like your opinion”
Beth had heard of embarrassing incidents where poets had forgotten to check their avatars after a reading session – and had left the building with their poems still poking out for all to see (and accepted it as just one of those things that happens in SL, something everyone can have a good laugh about) But Beth is not prepared to indulge someone who wants to thrust his poem in her face, unbidden
She “Really It wouldn’t be fair to give you a critique. I’m not the person to ask”
He “Its long”
She “I’m sure its enormously long, N…. And I can tell you’re really very proud of it”
He “Lots of other writers want to see it”
Beth groans at where such illogic and misdirection might cast up. She glances round for an escape route.
He “I can send you a copy – I have it on a notecard”
Beth’s stomach turns at the thought of a copy of this guy’s gnarly ol’ poem turning up top right on her pc screen. Honestly, don’t they get it? She knew it wouldn’t be anything special. They never are. As far as Beth is concerned, you’ve seen one poem – you’ve seen them all.
She “Thanks everso for the offer N…. I’m sure it’s really nice. But straight out – I don’t want to see a copy of your poem”
He “It’s a romantic poem. I really think you might like it. Please take a look”
Beth throws up a little bit in the back of her mouth. Beth is proud of her live-and-let-live approach to most stuff life throws at her. She prides herself on being able to hunt down a rational explanation for most things. But when it comes to romanticism, she runs up against a total no-no. Beth has to get away. And now...



She “N…. Somewhere out there is a woman who is gonna love your poem and will read it for hours. But seriously, you haven’t met her tonight. I do, however, wish you all the best with it”
And with the briefest “Gotta go” Beth whooshed off to the Botanical Gardens. She stared into the waterfall until she had washed away the lingering, slightly malodorous image in her head of this wretched creature: dishevelled, ratty-haired, standing with his limp poem dangling between his fingers – a pathetic and pitiable creature who probably deserved sympathy and understanding. Beth tried, but she couldn’t muster it. “Nah,” she thought. “Bloody poets…”



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SLers guide to NZers - an introduction

Beth has spent a lot of her young life wandering around a somewhat bleak and deserted SL. She finds cafes with kettles still gently steaming in the corner, but no customers at the tables. She finds whole towns and cities quiet, wind-blown and utterly bereft of life. She finds empty universities, vacant hotels, unoccupied space stations and vast parklands devoid of all activity. Ankh-Morpork was not the bustling metropolis the books had led her to believe. This is because Beth’s operational base is New Zealand. So when most of SL is up and thrutching, Beth’s Operator is sensibly asleep. Or earning a living in RL (and unfortunately she doesn’t work for anyone prepared to let her chew up their broadband while she buggers about and still pay her for the privilege. Shame…) A lot of the time this works to Beth’s advantage. She still has that embarrassing inability to walk round a curve. And when (inevitably) she falls in the water there is no one on hand to sarcastically proffer a towel. So keeping such peculiar hours is not all bad. There is never a queue for the helicopter or balloon ride. And it does mean she occasionally gets the chance to chide her UK-based friends with a spirited “Its 3am you idiot! Go to bed you pathetic addict! You’ll give yourself an aneurysm if you keep this up!” – which, being a naturally bossy and brutally frank individual, Beth enjoys greatly!

However, Beth has been managing to blunder (often quite literally) into the occasional avatar as she staggers her palsied way around the various sims. During her conversations she follows the usual conventions, and is often asked where she comes from. “New Zealand” she says, quite proudly. This is quite true. Beth’s Operator has a deep and heart-felt attachment to her adopted country (having given the UK up as a bad job 8 years ago). New Zealand is as beautiful as everyone says and Beth’s Operator has travelled it extensively and loves to read about its short history (ie year dot to 1300 – ferns, birds, insects, bloody great trees; 1300 – Maori turn up, eat all the moa, plant crops etc; 1800+ - colonisers turn up and do what they usually do the world over, but still haven’t managed to fill up the place with more than 4 million people, even today) So SL at 2am is surprising comparable to NZ at any time of the day! And, like SL, it is full of unique and beautiful flora and fauna, miles of tree-lined, craggy-rocked beaches, it has snow-capped mountains, rainforests and volcanoes. It has quite a few helicopters, balloons and also hang gliders, as well.

Both Beth and her Operator are in love with New Zealand. It’s called biophilia – love of the nature of a place. If any poets happen to be reading this (and I can’t imagine why they would - as Beth avoids them like the hairy plague) please don’t feel tempted to start leaving comments of a ‘spiritual’ nature. Beth does not have a ‘spiritual’ pixel in her entire avatar. Beth is an Old School Rationalist. Beth says “If you feel moved by the awe and wonder of a beautiful sunset – what you are experiencing is ‘awe and wonder’. If you feel a great connectedness with the landscape or people in a place – what you are experiencing is a sense of connectedness. It is normal! It is human. You are *not* special. Get over yourself!” So poets, ‘spiritual’ people and deity botherers of any stripe – you have been warned!

So New Zealand is a country about the size of the UK, plonked right on the line where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean bash into each other. New Zealand is known to people in Commonwealth countries as a fellow colony, to Rugby-playing nations because of the All Blacks, to some Asian countries as that place with all the sheep, and even some Americans have heard of it! That is mainly due to the ‘Lord of the Rings’ movies, of course, not because anyone thought to add geography to the school curriculum anytime recently, we presume. Myths and stereotypes abound (and not just about Americans). Some people imagine that New Zealand is some sort of sub-tropical, South Seas paradise. This makes Beth seem strange and exotic. Beth approves and will pump that particular misconception for all it’s worth if she thinks she can get away with it! On the other hand, Beth has noticed occasions where conversation has become derailed by her lapses into the local vernacular, particularly around words, phrases and concepts. After 8 years, these mannerisms have become engrained in Beth’s Operator, and it will probably be easier to explain them than to ask Beth to give them up. Hence the intention to post a number of informative and educational articles in this blog in the spirit of entente cordial (Beth chucks in some French there, just to really confuse matters. Way to go girl!)

So here’s a few to start us off. Beth says “bugger” and “bloody” a lot. These are the swear words of choice on these Islands. Beth likes swearing! If she is in the company of Brits she will also revert to type and splatter the f-word around as well. Kiwis don’t use that one quite so liberally. Oh yes! Kiwis. Talking about Kiwis has caused a major bout of incomprehension on more than one occasion. Kiwis are the national bird – and it is also what NZers call themselves. So you will hear Beth saying things like “Kiwis live for the beach”, “He’s a typical Kiwi bloke”, “Kiwis live in wooden houses with tin roofs” etc. If she’s feeling frivolous, Beth will also throw in terms like “Kia ora, bro’” (borrowed from Maori and meaning variously “hello/goodbye, friend” or as a general term of agreement), “No worries” (“that is not a problem”), “She’ll be right” (everything will work out, it always does) and she will often call people “mate”. If she is saying things like “Fabulous!”, “thrutching” or “f**k you, monkey boy”, she is, however, being English… But in an effort to foster international and multi-dimensional warmth and understanding – Beth will be happy to explain anything that piques your interest. And she promises faithfully to always speak truthfully. Always… Promise… Sweet asssssss, bro’

Episode 49 ‘Beth Meets Her First Dodgy Bloke’

Beth had been warned by so many people in her first few months of SL that she needed to watch out for ‘dodgy blokes’. They were everywhere, apparently. Making outrageous suggestions and generally making life for the single SL girl a living hell. Beth was seriously concerned that she wasn’t meeting any such men. Not one! Absolutely no one, it seemed was trying to take advantage of her. Damn! She was thinking. This is just like RL. This is no good. What am I doing wrong? Is it the glasses? Is it the whole Victorian librarian transvestite look? Maybe she should try putting on a dress one day…

Times were hard. Beth took to hanging out in bars, profile-snooping and trying not to look too desperate. After an uneventful half hour in the Blarney Stone (nightclub hoppers, nekos, poets, Star Trek geeks – she wasn’t THAT desperate yet…) Beth wandered back to the Botanical Gardens to sit and ponder the waterfall and reflect on what a complete loser she must be in SL, RL and probably every incarnation she had ever had on the Wheel of Samsara. And then someone IM-ed her

He “G….. is a good person to talk to about learning to build on SL – you should contact them”
Aha! She had been profile-snooped! Someone had spotted her request for a kindly, patient (and hopefully deaf-to-swearing) Building Mentor. Things could be looking up! Perhaps she could build a dodgy bloke of her own. Or even just a small part of one…

Beth thought hard and remembered the IM-er from the pub. Damn! A poet. Never mind…
A conversation ensued as the waterfall tumbled majestically, as is its wont.
She “So is it still thrutching at the Blarney Stone?”
He “Oh, I don’t know. I moved on somewhere else”
She “Oh, yeah? Anywhere nice?”
He “Erm…”
He “I’m on a nudist beach”
A nudist beach… Oh, how Beth’s curiosity roared up like Marlon Brandon on a Triumph Thunderbird 6T with the rest of the Black Rebels Motorcycle club in tow. A nudist beach!
Beth is torn between a yearning to find out just how tacky a SL nudist could be, and just putting on her PJs and calling it a night
She “Well, I suppose a nudist beach might be considered nice!”
She “I’d be too shy to take my clothes off tho!”
He “Oh, don’t worry – you can keep your eyes closed if you like”
Beth’s chronic lack of good taste wins out
She “Oh, go on then. Send me a tp”

After the whoosh, Beth is standing on the sand under a completely repulsive beach umbrella next to a naked guy lying on a sun lounger, rotating every few moments as per the ‘sunbathing’ poseball. It looks kinda energetic and is not very realistic. Of course Beth hasn’t got her eyes shut at all and is watching, fascinated as he and the surroundings rezz into view properly.
Strangely, his cock is the very last thing in the whole scene to download. So every 5 seconds Beth is confronted by a supine bloke with what appears, for all the world, to be a pink iced bun with a cherry on top glued to his lap. When it finally pops up it looks a whole lot less edible. Unfortunate…

He “Oh! I didn’t see you there!”
He “Let me just put this away…”
Oh, good grief! thinks Beth. He has GOT to be kidding! He just sent me the damn tp. And he’s making out he’s been caught unawares? Do me a favour…

Safely adopting the neutered-Action Man look Beth remembers from her brother’s childhood warmongering days, the poet treats Beth to a tour of the environ. Some naked people are playing beach volley ball. Beth wonders if she has dozed off and woken up in a Cliché Nightmare. He proudly takes her to a paddling pool where there are a line of M/F/M/F dancing poseballs. He gamely jumps onto a M ball, leaving the F one in front of him free. And proceeds to bump ‘n’ grind for all he’s worth. Beth smiles appreciatively and stands there (in full Victorian librarian transvestite regalia) watching him. And not jumping on in front of him. Somewhat obviously. But he keeps going. All Beth can think is “I don’t think I have ever seen a straight man looking quite sooooooo gay before”

Beth is beginning to sweat (and not only from wearing a frock coat in the hot sun) Conversation is getting harder and harder. Beth grits her teeth and resists the urge to just hit ‘Quit’ right there and then. No, she thinks. I have to find a way to leave this scenario politely and graciously. Let’s call it a learning experience.

She looks around the beach for inspiration. Everything looks cheap and tacky. There is a particularly incongruous christmas display wilting in the blazing sun. Beth is profoundly thankful that Santa is not naked. She thinks this might have traumatized her. Beth somehow manages to work her Inventory into the torpid exchange. Now, as regular readers will have gathered, there is nothing in the world Beth likes more than her Inventory! It is her most prized possession in SL. Surely there is some mileage in that?

It turns out the poet has a couple of houses in his. Just lying around. Beth is thinking “This is it! He is going to make an inappropriate suggestion about going back to his place – as soon as he can find a suitable place to inflate it”

Alas no. The poet quickly goes on to explain how he had a SL girlfriend for whom he did everything she asked and then she left him. Beth screams silently. “He’s going to tell me all about his ex!” Which he did. At some considerable length. Had he no concept that he was breaking the cardinal rule when talking to women? He then went on to confess to being 57 years old in RL. Beth was standing up to her ankles in a fake lagoon, with a man in his birthday suit pouring his guts out about some gold-digger who left him in RL as well as SL, while naked people frolicked in the sand thereabouts. Convinced she had learned all she ever wanted to from this scenario Beth made up an incoming IM conversation and hoped she was convincing when she said she had to leave for her karate class.

They said their goodbyes and Beth poofed as fast as she could before he even had time to think about offering friendship.

Back in her secret changing room in the sky – Beth unpacked and re-sorted her Inventory until she calmed down, thankful there is nothing weird about her or her habits in any way at all…



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Episode 48 ' Warning! - Gondolier Kidnapper at Large!'

Beth reports an attempted kidnap in SL Botanical Gardens and wishes to alert her lady friends in particular.

Beth had just rezzed into her home territory and was happily gazing into space like a gormless moron as she checked her IMs and notecards of what she had already missed out on at Bella Vida (as she is asleep while everyone else is having fun cos her operator had the monumental lack of foresight to move to NZ eight years ago, and not to LA) when her trusty mini-map showed a green blob right on top of her. Being the sort of girl who watches movies and spends a lot of time screaming at the characters “Don’t just look round the corner you f**ckwit, think 360 – look up you idiot, look up… oh too late” she did just that. And sure enough, she is confronted by a flying gondola.

She “Good grief! I didn’t think those things were supposed to fly!”
He “C’mon! Get in!”
She “I don’t think so, that looks kinda dangerous”
Beth is thinking – hmmm. This looks like one of those ‘young people’, and he’s managed to hack into a piece of SL real estate and bend it to his will. If Beth got into it and let him whisk her away, she wonders what hideous fate awaited her – probably subjected to some code-twisted, evilly-manipulated pose-ball humiliation before being ripped prim from prim and stuffed down the back of a cushion in the Rajah House at the top of the hill.

While the loss of her avatar would be a serious blow – Beth then remembers the Inventory she has pieced together over the last two months, all pathologically arranged in neat folders and bursting with clothes, shoes (that don’t fit), more clothes, her beloved Mysti tool, all those notecards and landmarks, even more clothes and that penis she picked up while no one was looking in that freebie store, cos, well, curiosity completely overwhelmed her – plus all the rest of the clothes…

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

She “No, I don’t think so”
He “No seriously, get in! It’ll be fun”
Luckily for Beth – at that very moment a lovely Irish chap she met in this very spot only the night before rezzed in and said “Hi”
She “Hey V…..! Just in time!”
Evil Gondolier Kidnapper “Curses! Foiled again!”
(Actually, that’s a complete lie – he did, in fact, offer to take both of them for a spin in his mutant Venetian water-taxi but then flew off)
He “In time for what?”
She “To save me from the Evil Gondolier Kidnapper!”
He “What Evil Gondolier Kidnapper?”
She “That one! In the flying gondola! Didn’t you see him?”
He “Er. No…”

Beth quickly realizes that any credibility she may have had with her new friend stands about as much chance as a sack of kittens on its way to a play-date with the edge of the Niagara Falls, so impressively feigns the collapse of the entire broadband system in the Southern Hemisphere rather than try to persuade him round to her way of thinking, followed by a quick ‘Ctrl, Alt, Delete’

Reputation still (probably) intact for another night, Beth resolves to do the honorable thing and warn her fellow SL playmates of this impudent spoilsport – so their wardrobes may live to astound and amaze another day!



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Episode 47 ‘Only ever happens in SL – I hope!’

Conversation with complete stranger in the Africa Sim:
He “Hello Beth”
Me “Hello P... Erm, do you know you’re not wearing any trousers?”
He “Oh – I’ve just been editing my appearance”
Me “That may not be the best look you could have hoped for”
He poofs off somewhat rapidly


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