Well, over the last couple of days I've been attempting to download custom content, because just like in the Sims 2, there was a downloads folder and I had been putting everything in there. Then I downloaded the InstallerMonkey and it said to install everything in the Mod/Packages file of my game. I do not have a Mod/Packages file.

Help please? None of the custom stuff I downloaded will work, or even show up.

I saw them somewhere but for the life of me, I can't remember where. They looked like they'd been kicked, parts of them were folded and rolled up and all that good stuff, but now I can't them. So if anyone could help, it would be most appreciated.

*image width exceeds 600 pixels: removed*

I've been trying (without luck) to find where this hair came from ever since I saw this picture, so if anyone could help me I would be SO grateful.

http://img526.imageshack.us/i/kingl.jpg/

Where can I find this outfit? I know, I'm probably getting annoying, but this is a really awesome outfit.

Please and thank you. I've been looking for FOREVER and have not had any luck.

I've seen some all around, but I can never find the website that carries the cat ears.  So if anyone could kindly direct me to at least one site that has cat ears, I'll be very grateful.

Could anyone please make me a shirt that says "I Love My Dads" on it?  A friend told me about her cousin who had adopted twins with his husband recently and got them shirts that said that and I've wanted a shirt like that for my sims ever since.

Ever since I loaded up Apartment Life, my sims haven't been able to do anything in the bed besides daydream, read, relax, and sleep. Now that's all well and good since I have other means of having babies, but I kind of like all those cuddling and kissing interactions. Would anyone know how to fix this?

I stumbled across these little beauties the other day and am saddened that they aren't for males as well. Would anyone be able (or willing) to convert these for me? http://www.digitalperversion.net/gardenofshadows/index.php?topic=11883.0

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Vinnie helping me with homework had become part of the daily regiment of the August household. My older brother, either through his dad's genes or some dormant genius genes that our mother carried, was a certifiable Einstein...at least to all of us. Mostly me.

"You get it now?" he asked, a tinge of annoyance lingering in his voice, though I knew it wasn't for me. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, his eyes darting to the front door for any sign of her.

"You have to ask?" I snapped back, equally annoyed. "You know, I could get a good waitressing job down--"

"You aren't quitting high school, so stop whining," he said firmly. Of course, daddy dearest. My brother was more of a parent than any of the rest of us had ever had, and I would have liked to know where he'd gotten the paternal instinct.


"Mom's home," Charlie called wearily from the living room, and Vinnie tensed. This was it, finally. I stood, trying to gather my homework and slip it into my bag. I wouldn't need it anyway. Vinnie shot me a look that said, "Get in your room. Now."

But I stopped, and whether it was from some internal instinct to want to see my own mother, or just from sheer shock that Vincent August would ever talk to anyone so coldly was beyond me. He turned his shoulder to me, and I glanced into the living room where Charlie sat, his head in his hands, in a recliner, and Antony and Patrick slept soundly on the couch.


Our mother walked in, a glow about her and she snatched me up in a hug. I'd barely seen her awake that morning, her hair a mess and her makeup still on from the night before. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd slept over at her boyfriend's house. But she was happy, standing there in a soft black and white dress, way nicer than anything me or any of the guys had to wear.

"My precious baby girl!" she squealed, grabbing me up in a tight hug. She smelled like her own perfume and the thick cologne that her boyfriend always wore. Pulling me away, she looked at Vinnie with a smile. "Where are my other babies?"

"Antony and Patrick are sick," he lied, his eyes narrowing. "Charlie's asleep in the living room. I don't know what Jared's doing." I widened my eyes at him; Vinnie August, whose poker face was the worst I'd ever seen in my life, lied directly to our mother perfectly, no stumbling, no fault, and no guilt giving way.


I ran off before I had to watch anymore; he'd make sure I and the rest of our brothers could hear it, though. The last glimpse of them I'd gotten was a hostile one, more so than anyone had ever looked in our family. Vinnie was our peacemaker when Patrick and I got into a fight, or when Charlie said something mean to Antony. Vinnie was our hero, and then he had to be the bad guy.


"I'm done with this," he said, loudly, his voice echoing through the kitchen. I heard Mom yelp and jump back from the force behind his voice. She'd never heard him like that either. "I am not their father, and I am not supposed to have to take care of them, Mom!"

"Vinnie, I--"

"No! Let me talk," he said, his voice lowering, though it still boomed in the quiet house. Nothing moved and their was nothing to interrupt his talking.


"You have one daughter! One! And look what you do. You go out, night after night, showing her that it's okay to just abandon your family!"

Mom squeaked, whimpering as if she were going to cry. "But honey, I'm trying to find someone good to support this family," she pleaded, trying to explain her behavior. I sighed. We'd heard it all before. Her voice softened and warmer. "I think I found him, too."

"That's what you said about my dad. Then Charlie's, then the twin's, then Frankie's... When's it going to end? When you have ten kids and still no one to take care of you?" That one made me hurt. Unlike most of us, I was actually on fairly good terms with my dad. One or two visits a year, presents and money all the time. A pretty good deal, I've got to say.


Vinnie stopped and breathed, taking in all he'd said and making sure he had nothing else to say, no other wounds to open. "We're leaving. Tonight," he said, his voice soft and low, but I could still here it, and the reaization of it settled.

"We? You're...you're taking..?" she stuttered, and it settled on her too.

"Jared, Antony, Patrick, Charlie, and Frankie. We're all going," he said, and there it was. It was all final, and there was nothing else to say about it. When Vinnie set his foot down, even to our mother, it was over, and there were no other arguments to make him turn.


And Vinnie kept to his word. We left that night, the last time I saw my mom was when I was thirteen. Vinnie was twenty one, and though he said he wasn't supposed to have to take care of us, he chose to, as if staying there with our mother was really the worst thing for me. He'd said, in the car, that it was because he didn't want to just sit by and watch her go from one man to another, having one baby after another, and having to take care of sibling after sibling while our mother ran off to try to find "someone stable to take care of the family."

Fret not, those who have read Skin Deep. I've only had a small tinge of writer's block, but I'm not giving up on it. Besides, I've wanted to do this one for a while.

Okay, warnings...

Homosexual themes, underage drinking, drugs, etc..., relationships that would be considered unlawful (age-wise), and prostitution.

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In my own mind he was the ugliest, and at the same time the most beautiful. This was a truth I had somehow never had the ability to tell him. He wouldn’t have understood, I thought, sure of that. If I had ever gotten the courage to say that to him, he’d have only stared back at me, his dull black eyes questioning my sanity and one black eyebrow pulled upward condescendingly.

Ugly and beautiful. “Pick one or the other,” he would have said, annoyed by my indecision. He would have tangled his fingers in his hair, clasping them behind his neck tightly. “Which one am I?” Ugly, I thought then to myself, sure of the answer he would have given if he’d answered his question. But you’re wrong. Not ugly at all. But to someone who’d never know him, those two opposites were the only way to tell them who he was. To tell them of the person, the one I knew so well… I could never, in words, describe him. If I could, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want any else to love him like I had.

Like I had… I shook my head at this and leaned closer to the window, sitting in my--no, his--chair, searching every alleyway, my eye catching every slight movement behind Dumpsters, my heart skipping at the sight of any black haired boy that stood under a streetlight. I’d peek around corners and call his name, or watch what I could behind the curtains of cheap motels.
Anything to tell me he was still there.

(more pictures soon)

"Well, that was fun," I mumbled, slumping in the cheap white party chair. Dad and I looked around the empty yard. Balloons, and uneaten wedding cake, an unused wedding arch, unfilled chairs, and a yet again unmarried man sitting across from me, looking as defeated as he ever had.

It had happened before, we both knew it had. This was the fifth woman to leave Dad standing alone at the altar while I stood, knowing it would happen, beside the arch with a plastered on smile.


Dad and I stood together, knowing there wasn't anything else to be said. He hugged me tightly, kissing me in that fatherly way. "I'm sorry, Lucy," he said quietly, letting me go.

I shrugged. "It's not your fault skanks and gold diggers are attracted to you like 80's hookers to chunky jewelry," I mumbled and shrugged again. What could he do about it? Dad was so quick to try to get me a new mom he never really got to know the girls he wanted to marry, besides that they were apparently nice, nice ladies.

He'd gotten engaged seven times, but five girls actually let him get to the altar, after he paid for everything. About a week after they split, we'd find their wedding dress and engagement ring in a pawn shop somewhere selling for way more than it was actually worth. I didn't know pawn shops even took wedding dresses, but I guess if you could get money for it, they'd take it.


"How are the tomatoes doing, hun?" Dad asked once he noticed I'd stopped.

"Okay, as long I take care of them, I guess," I sighe, wiping my hands off on my dress. I'd worn it five times, and by then I really didn't mind if it got dirty or not. Dad laughed suddenly. "What?"

"You look like your mom doing that," he said, but I knew he was lying. I'd never looked like my mom, besides somehow getting gray eyes like hers. But Dad said she'd been some awesome gardener. She could grow anything, he said. Dad said Mom could probably have grown oranges in Alaska if she'd wanted to.

I walked on past him, but Dad lingered for a second, looking at my little garden sadly. Mom's garden was left behind at our old house. After the third woman left him, we didn't have the money to keep up our larger house, so we moved to a little rinky dink place. I knew it had killed Dad to leave behind Mom's garden.

He finally came along behind me into the house.


"You want anything to eat, Lucy?" he asked, rummaging through our little fridge. I grabbed a package of cookies off the counter and plopped down in front of our TV that short circuited every time something good came on.

"Nah, I'm good," I said through the mush of chocolate and dough in my mouth. Dad laughed again, taking out a TV dinner for himself.

"You're going to get fat, Louie," he said, using his favorite nickname for me. Dad said that if he and Mom had had a boy, they would name him Louie, but I turned out to be minus a Y chromosome, so I was dubbed Lucy, a.k.a. Louie.

"Hey, old man, this is called comfort food," I said casting him a fake evil glare and laughed myself. "Being a distressed woman, I have to eat."

"You're still a little girl. Women have to be able to fill at least a B cup," dad said, with his sick humor. For a dad, he had an awful, awful sense of humor when it came to girls. No wonder I was weird.


Standing from my seat on the couch, I hugged Dad hard. "I'm going to crash," I said, pulling away hesitantly. On the way to my room, I knew Dad was watching me. He'd been scared for me for years, always thinking I was emotionally unstable. He was sure that I was somehow affected by Mom dying when I was really little. I barely remembered her, but I guess that, in some way, it did bother me, never having that female influence.


Dad had gone into my room once before to find me drawing all over the walls in pen. He didn't say anything besides, "Are you okay, Lucy?" I was, really. I just wanted to draw on the walls, but still Dad was sure I was disturbed by my subconscious or something like that. He liked acting like he was some kind of world renowned psychiatrist.

But thinking on it now, at all the things I did, I do wonder if maybe my mom dying bothered me. I would silently cheer if my friends parents were split up, or I'd feel more welcome in a home with only a dad. I never liked it when dad would bring home girlfriends or the such, and so I usually didn't have much confidence in his relationships.

I had never wanted it to be anything more than me and dad.