As previously mentioned in The Habbo Diaries parts one and two, some of us were recruited into the workforce, for various places, with, well… pretty similar positions. None of us received any wages, in-game or otherwise. Nor did we receive any furni for our time. But we worked. We worked hard.

Habbo Hotel Workforce

The purpose of the Habbo workforce eluded me; it was not affiliated with Official Habbo. They were run by people, kids I assume? I also never understood how they were funded. They had dozens of rooms with what must have been hundreds or thousands of dollars worth of furni. I didn’t get it and I didn’t get to the bottom of it. But we tried our darnedest, by spreading out our jobs and expertise throughout the Habboverse.

 

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

don't look

Mirrors, despite being my finest friends at times, are also my greatest fear at any given crazyperson moment. I mentioned before that I have an unease about trying to sleep within view of one. But sometimes even looking into one in the light can cause me to feel a sense of dread. It is a similar fear to when I get nervous about opening closed doors. The irrational fear that reality is not at all what I have thought it is my whole life is a fear that comes back to haunt me fairly frequently, in many forms.

So what if one day, I glance at the mirror, and there are two of me. What if one is hook-handed and murderous? Even what if it isn’t? What if there are interdimensional monsters? What if there’s a demon or something? What if anything at all?? What could be done? I’d have to either die right there or be a strong character and surprise us all as I make my own destiny. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Any time, any place (that you are out in public) there is a horrible likelihood that a stranger is going to interact with you. All the time, right? Not just to me? They aren’t always bad encounters, not by a long shot. Some people are just being kind and good. Others, however, have boundary issues, or are simply so socially awkward and unaware that they don’t realize that they are causing a bad moment. Still others are plain and simple nightmares.

get away

Why can’t people leave other people alone? Who knows! Even Amandoll, a recluse, has her fair share of unpleasant encounter stories. Well, here are some examples of some very uncomfortable interactions I’ve had. I have even included some suggestions at the end, for the next time you too feel trapped in a conversation.

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like all the way 90s

I always like to consider myself as “timeless.” I am Amanda Wood no matter what decade or location I am in, and that’s fine by me! Sometimes, though, I do feel like I might be very “90s” about things. It was the ten year span that I was an impressionable teen, so it makes sense that it would leave its stain on me for the rest of my life. And really, with hindsight making things clearer, it is probably a symptom of the ’90s to feel as though you were alone, or in any way apart from the others. A generation of alienated youths probably didn’t have a solid cohort base. I know buzzfeed makes a lot of lists that only ’90s Kids Would Understand, but I often wonder which of us would even bother making that kind of thing?

As an old person now, I derive a little satisfaction seeing that my classmates don’t really want to bother setting up class reunions. We kept the friends we wanted to keep. No one really wants to put forth that kind of effort, anyway. None of us really wants to awkwardly see how much we’ve aged or discuss shattered dreams or whatever. It’s nice. Thanks, class of ’98. I probably like you all better because it turns out we were all as antisocial as I thought only I was! Bonding from afar.

With that in mind, I always planned to preface this article with a disclaimer saying that my impression of the ’90s is probably extremely personal and just one tiny rare facet that is nothing like anyone else’s experience. But, no. I had a teen time probably like everyone else’s, at least in rural Ohio. I’ve heard it suggested that rural Ohio is kind of surprisingly horrible in many ways, so maybe the rest of you dear readers had some sort of decade of playing in flower fields and volunteering your time to good causes. Well la dee da, sunshine. Good for you.

 

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

swallow it

I eat almost every day, so I should be an old pro at it. However, more than a few times, I just forget how to chew or swallow. Or I think I do? This is one of those things where it has happened enough that I worry about it a little too much, and fear that one day I will just choke because I suddenly am incapable of doing this very basic part of daily life. I have wondered if it is an actual medical problem, but I think if it were, then it would happen more consistently and not during a few seconds every once in a while. Sometimes, food just goes right down my neck while I am beginning to chew, and I sputter and fear death. Other times, I just can’t swallow, and then begin to panic because I can’t remember if it is something I should do automatically or if it is something we have to make ourselves do. Classic overthinking to make everything worse. Once, I even had a real panic attack thanks to a PBJ.

I can’t wait for food to just be a nutrition slurry, IV soup, or maybe a little tiny pill. That would relieve me of this burden.

 

Being a girl is one of the best things ever to happen to me. My gender allows me to live in a pink world filled with unicorns, kittens, pillows, sweets, and all manner of nice things. I get to Girl Talk, rely on boys to lift heavy objects for me, and to remove insects from my sight. Also, for a few days every month, I get to be a hyper-emotional psycho with very little in the way of consequences – whether I want to be or not! Other girls understand and allow it (unless they are also in that time of the Most Terrible of Cycles), and boys understand just enough to try to ignore it. This bittersweet reward is known as the P.M.S.

yaaaay being a girl!

This article isn’t going to be a guide for helping boys to better cope and appease the women in their lives during this bleak moment. Every girl houses a specific, unique, terrible tapestry of physical and psychological destruction, and it changes with every month. So it is nigh impossible to write a comprehensive list on how you could meet your lady friends’ needs. It just isn’t going to happen, fellas.

 

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It’s so damn hot, you guys. It’s like, really hot. I’m not saying that it’s never been hot before, and I’m not even saying it’s never been THIS hot before, but what I certainly am saying is that right now: it is really hot. Did somebody accidentally bump the sun a little closer to us on the last trip round? I’m looking at you Jupiter, you stupid piece of goddamn shit.

poor juper

I’m.. I’m sorry, Jupiter, and fans of Jupiter. I didn’t mean to have an outburst. It’s just, you guys… it’s really hot right now. It’s like I’m playing the maracas underwater and every time I shake my maracas, the water gets hotter. And everybody wants to do the samba, and also everyone else has maracas too, and also everyone has a serious tremor in both hands AND ALSO the song we are all playing is “Johnny Fast-Hands Plays The Maracas Faster Than Usual.” Additionally, instead of a pool it’s a furnace fill with water, and instead of that water, there’s fire, and no maracas, and Johnny Fast-Hands’ fast hands are fused together, pock-marked by the embers and pitch black like your grandparents’ souls.

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

Microscopic Bugaboo

A fear of natural bodies of water is so deeply ingrained into my life that I didn’t remember that it is an “irrational fear” until last week. Every summer, I have always shuddered in horror as millions of people cool off by taking dips in ponds, swimming in lakes and oceans, “go tubing” down rivers. All I see in these places, including rain puddles, are nests of germs, parasites, and single-celled organisms that could cause sickness or death. It doesn’t seem that irrational to me to not want any of these afflictions! But people act like I’m being crazy when I look at them like they’re crazy when they ask me to go swimming down at a swimmin’ hole. Why don’t I just ingest a petri dish laden with giardia and hookworms?? No thanks forever.

I intend to begin a series of games articles today, with or without the help of my trusty sidekick, cchris, that take a look at the games out there in the world that are meant for girls to play. Even though I write tons of gaming articles (even though these are generally hardly even to be considered games), I am really not a “gamer.” I am dimly aware that there is a whole Girl Gamer Culture out there, and that there are politics and strife and some kind of women’s liberation movement screaming for equal rights and respect while playing various games, because not only are games a serious part of life, but opposition to women doing anything or having any fun is everywhere at all times. But I am not here to fumble around with explanations about topics I know next to nothing about. WAIT YES I AM. But the topic I choose to fumble with is games, not with complicated social issues.

Hasbro has a bunch of little games on its website, but I haven’t bothered to explore them. Really, I wouldn’t even know that Baby Alive exists at all except that one day cchris linked me to this one, thinking that it would stir up my maternity instincts or foul-mouthed rage – one or the other. He has his own reasons for experimenting on his friends and they are not reasons I bother to question. The only thing I am left questioning, actually, is why I click any link he offers me.

But I do, and I did, and I was immediately disgusted by what I saw before me. Truth be told, as soon as I realized what I was seeing and hearing, I complained to him and threatened to turn it off. Then of course, I proceeded to play the game.

gross

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