Voicemail
I give you my "ORLY?" face
hurtingzeebo
"Hey, this is Sam. I'm either not here, or you're too much of a nub to bother answering, Freddie. Either way, you can leave me a message." *BEEP*

[ooc: for IC calls/texts/emails and OOC communications, doncha know.]

OOC: So long, and thanks for all the fat cakes!
I do an O face, I hang with Carly
hurtingzeebo
And while I'm logged in and procrastinating on cleaning doing adminly type things, I should make this game-wide official:

Sam Puckett has ever so quietly swanned off from the island, never to return. Her court-ordered private school education has run out, and the judge determined that her single detention at Fandom was a clear sign that she was properly rehabilitated (ha!), so she's headed home to Seattle to reunite with her BFF. Since Sam sucks at friendship and forethought, she totally neglected to tell anyone she was leaving.

Silly little sociopath.

Anyway, I'd intended to put up a farewell post last weekend, but that fell through primarily due to Death Cold 2012, so she's heading out in a handwavey fashion. Many apologies to anyone who would have wanted to say good-bye, it just didn't work out that way.

My other characters on the island (Vincent, Pinkie Pie, and soon-to-be-arriving Arietty) are totally still around. I loved playing Sam, but her muse has left me. It's hard to maintain that kind of attitude. . . .
Tags: ,

Room 402, Wednesday afternoon
I'm humoring you, I'm proud of myself
hurtingzeebo
Sam was all dressed up. She had on her rattiest, dirtiest clothes, extra ripped just for the occasion, and drizzled with barbecue sauce. She had a pale green foundation on, with excess, smeared eyeliner creating a very baggy effect around her eyes, and more barbecue sauce around her mouth, over black lipstick. She had her hair fluffed out into oblivion. With just a touch more barbecue sauce.

Look, it hadn't been easy to get all of that on her without eating it all, okay?

Last but not least, she had the soy brain from Diversity class out of its jar and leaking soy brain juice all over her hands. She'd put some more barbecue sauce on it, too, not just for texture. She expected it was going to taste pretty wretched.

Now all she needed was her oh-so-gullible and oh-so-traumatizable boyfriend to arrive, and she'd be all set.

[ooc: for him what's mentioned in the narrative, though it can be open for after that.]

Room 402, Friday afternoon
I'm yelling, I'm really unhappy
hurtingzeebo
Sam had never thought a whole lot about it, but if you asked, she'd probably tell you she'd be okay with having a kid someday.

DB was rapidly changing her mind. He wasn't nearly so cute when he wasn't whacking his assigned father in the head with his stuffed ewok.

For instance: He'd already managed to spit up all over her collection of hammers, and tried to eat her phone. Apparently, having accomplished these tasks, he'd moved on to the next part of his evil plan: crying.

Not even crying, really. Wailing.

Sam was handling this behavior in the only way she knew how: she wailed right on back at him.

[ooc: door is closed, but lord knows they're probably making plenty of noise. Open.]

Room 423, Saturday morning
I'm Freddie being grumpy, I'm Freddie says what now?, I'm Freddie gaping
hurtingzeebo
Sam woke up to the sound of the world's dorkiest ring tone. She groped around for her hammer to smash it with, but it wasn't in reach, so she finally gave in and answered the damn phone.

"H'lo?"

"Fredward!" said the voice on the other end. "You're not just waking up, are you?"

Sam blinked. "Mrs. Benson? Freddie's not here right now."

"That is not funny, young man! You should have been up to double-poo hours ago!"

Sam snickered. "Poo." Then gradually realized that her voice sounded weird. And she'd been sleeping in a funny position, all laid out flat with her head on the actual pillow. And she had . . . bits that weren't usually there. "Did I turn into a boy again?"

"Are you ill? Fredward, take your temperature! I think you have a fever!"

Sam turned the laptop on the nearby desk around and switched on the webcam. And then stared. "Oh sweet mother of chiz."

"FREDWARD BENSON! You go wash your mouth out with soap this instant!"

This? Was going to be a loooooooooooong day.

[ooc: specifically for one.]

OOC: Availability insert clever name of a dance here
I wear a party hat
hurtingzeebo
Okay, so. I've been trying to push this off for ages, but I should probably just give it up, here.

We are super busy at work. Like, ridiculously busy. Busy enough that it's taken me an hour to write these two paragraphs. Busy enough that by the time I get home the last thing I want to do is look at a computer for anything other than Zoo Borns. We have been for a few days, which is why I haven't done a whole lot anyway (apologies for anyone hoping for a ping from one of my characters who hasn't gotten one), but it's looking like we're going to be that way for a while, since on Monday we'll be getting Obama's 2013 Budget Proposal, which is something that will take at least two days of intense work to deal with.

So this is my official notice to you all that I might be even more absent than usual in the game. This applies to hurtingzeebo, notmyownage, locointhecoco, gastronomistic, and zoocitizen.

Just so's ya know.

Room 402, Saturday
I give you my "ORLY?" face
hurtingzeebo
Sam hadn't noticed any oddness about, today. She'd spent her time lying around, trying to watch the most disgusting videos she could find on the internet and catching up with what people were saying online about iCarly.

Jack pledging allegiance to Gibby's underpants had been a hit, but not as much as she and Karla attacking each other with chicken. Though a lot of those comments requested that next time, they use jello.

The internet was so weird.

[ooc: mostly for one, but also open.]

OOC: iCarly info postage!
I can't believe I just rescued this nub, I keep Freddie quiet
hurtingzeebo
It's not a bandwagon if it's not for an individual character, nyeah!

She’s Sam (hurtingzeebo) and he’s Freddie (randomspanish), and they are iCarly! . . . ‘s fandom contingent!

Let’s review, shall we?

What is iCarly?Collapse )

iCarly in FandomCollapse )

So, how do you get involved then? Simple! You can either sign up here, contact me (hurtingzeebo) or Freddie-mun (randomspanish) via your method of choice, or just wander into a broadcast post.

We would also love to find something similar to the Student Council Debates to host.

Questions? Comments? Bad puns?

Room 402, Sunday night
I give you my "ORLY?" face
hurtingzeebo
Sam had taken her time making her way back up to her room from Special Collections, still rather muddy, with war paint streaks on her cheeks, her spear clutched in her hand.

She was going to miss that wacky little pig hunting island.

She made it back to her room and immediately booted up her computer, checking to see if it could get an internet connection, and then heading to iCarly.com to make sure it had come back properly, then sent Carly a v-chat request.

Carly answered right away, looking amused. "What are you wearing?"

Sam smiled broadly, hugging her spear. All was right in her world.

[ooc: expecting one, but also open]

Somewhere in Special Collections, Sunday morning
I like to hit things, I throw monsters
hurtingzeebo
"Alright, class!" said Miss Zarves. "It's dictionary time!"

Virginia cheered. Sam woke up from her nap.

"What? Is it lunch?"

"What's lunch?" asked Nick. Sam stared at him, appalled, then looked at Virginia.

"We have to get lunch," she said. "It's a law or something. I demand lunch!"

Yeah, 'cause that'll workCollapse )

It was a jungly elsewhere, a sharp, mountainy jungly elsewhere. A wild pig blasted out of the underbrush near her, squealing in terror.

"Kill the pig!" A chorus of voices chanted. "Cut her throat! Drink her blood!"

Sam nodded to herself. "Now this is more like it."

[ooc: NFI. Sam is now in Lord of the Flies. Be afraid. Be very afraid.]

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