SL is not for the vain. True, you can turn yourself into the most buxom, quarter-off-the- arse type babe you want, but things happen. Here’s a photo of my friend Nellie with her hair attached to her crotch. Here’s a photo of me, arriving at a museum looking like I’ve been torched with an aerosol can sometime during the teleport.
Last night I visited Paris 1900. I ran into two newbies, a male and female avatar, having an anxious conversation in French outside the Moulin Rouge. The woman’s arm was stuck over her head and her hair was pulled over her face. The gentleman was wearing a tuxedo shirt, black spandex pants, and what looked like black woolly socks and one brown orthopedic Birkenstock. They turned to look at me and fled around the corner, still typing wildly. I wanted to run after them and shout “I understand! I was there once too!” Maybe I ought to become a newbie counselor.
Last night I visited Paris 1900. I ran into two newbies, a male and female avatar, having an anxious conversation in French outside the Moulin Rouge. The woman’s arm was stuck over her head and her hair was pulled over her face. The gentleman was wearing a tuxedo shirt, black spandex pants, and what looked like black woolly socks and one brown orthopedic Birkenstock. They turned to look at me and fled around the corner, still typing wildly. I wanted to run after them and shout “I understand! I was there once too!” Maybe I ought to become a newbie counselor.
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