Wanted – one gigolo with a receipt book…

“ya know I can just see you in a motel room - you sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed, notebook and pen in hand, and him stark naked demonstrating something to you as you take notes!!!!!” – quote from a friend

I have the whole I-don’t-want-a-man-to-annoy-me-thing going on at the moment but I require a man to experiment on and ask questions of. I did have one of these but anyway...so, it’s quite a dilemma for me. Take on a man who will probably irritate me in my current no commitment mode or find one who doesn’t want involvement but does have an ABN (Australian Business number) therefore making him a tax deduction and use him on retainer for this book writing business. I have contacted the ATO (Australian Tax Office) about this research expense. Yes, I can hardy await their response too.

Now, I’m not against romance. Hell no. I just don’t want to settle for Mr Meh when there’s probably someone better lurking out there if I chose to look. And I will. Soonish. So, a gigolo is the perfect solution. Why? Because I pretty much reckon they have seen and done it all and if a erotic romance writer asked them to do – well I won’t say as it would spoil the book I’m writing – something off the wall they probably wouldn’t blink twice. So, I need an unshockable, sensual man who knows women but most importantly is someone I can claim as a tax deduction….oh and he must have a sense of humour, is not clingy and likes to talk as I ask lots of questions. Sex? Not necessary…depends on how good a talker he is. Talkative, smart men are the most sexy.

Oh come on…don’t tell me you haven’t wondered what it would be like to be with such a skilled lover without all the real life complications. Isn’t that why we read erotica? It’s a different slice of life. I often read other Ellora’s Cave writers and think – whoa! How is that possible without her blacking out from hanging upside like that and she must have some thigh muscles to allow him to balance her like that while his tongue licks her…you get my point. Erotica is crazy, wild, no holds barred, it’s a cock-for-god-sake-not-a-love-muscle-sex. Thank god for it.

So, if you are a gigolo with a receipt book, ready to sign a confidentially clause and if I can claim you on tax then email me and we’ll discuss terms….

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The perfect man….

“He is sweet, kind, romantic, funny - and you can turn him off if you don’t want him” -- anonymous

The perfect man is Kermit the Frog. Yes, I thought it was a strange idea when I heard it but a very wise woman floated this idea past me and the more I thought about it the more I realized she was right. Kermit is the basis of a perfect man.

Forget the colour issue. We all know that’s not important. The skinny arms, legs and lack of height – that’s superficial stuff. What is important is the whole Kermit persona. Kermit is never violent, he’s hard working and he’s always smiling. As far as I know he doesn’t drink or swear or smoke or gamble – and he’s very patient, he listens and is tolerant. Who else would have dealt so calmly with Miss Piggy and her moods? He is non judgmental and he knows a lot of famous people so he would be quite the raconteur. He also sings, dances and tells jokes. You would never be bored. What’s not to love?

And the furry green body? Well, if you were sick of him you could put him a cupboard somewhere and then deal with him when you were ready to without arguments, tears and drama. Yep, she’s right, Kermit is the archetypal perfect man….if there is such a being. Consider taking on a frog. He may be your prince.



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So...

…I got the tattoo done. I have to say I was anticipating pain but I didn’t find the inking painful at all. No, I’m not into pain. I believe I just have a high tolerance level. This morning it’s a bit swollen and feels like a bad bruise.

A big thanks to the crew – especially Jason - at Chermside Tattoo. They were very professional, funny and interesting. They soon learned I was pretty, damned unshockable. The tatt ended up purple, green, pink and black and I love it.

Okay then…tattoo is off the check list of things to do….just now got to find me a vampire to sleep with…

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Just another day in the life….

...men…strange species…one man particular up north who has the charm of a constipated Taipan (snake). He is apparently considered ‘direct’. I plan to be very frigging direct next time we speak. I will ‘direct’ his arse off. Warning Will Robinson.

…thighs…sore...exercise? What’s the point of it again? Muscles versus no pain. Hmmm…no pain is looking pretty good.

…won arm wrestling contest…challenge me? I think not.

…tattoo today…constant questions on am I “worried about the pain?” No, I have thought long and hard about this and to be honest I’m not a wuss who cracks up easily. I figure my thighs are so sore that a needle will be nothing. But seriously, a tatt is for life…unless you believe those who will tell you it can be removed by a potato peeler…fucking ouch…

…received a clipping from the newspaper – a Dear Editor letter basically stating anyone that has a tattoo will go to hell due to desecration and a bunch do other things to do with ink and flesh and righteousness…yawn…no biggie…I was bound there anyway.

…. thanks for the all the email requests but no, I will not be showing my tattooed thigh on the internet. I don’t want to scare people or put them off their food.

…ordered a copy of the Queensland Firefighters 2010 Calendar today….half naked men who are smiling and silent. What a beautiful, beautiful thing.

…speaking of beauty…its Friday in Oz…how I adore Fridays. Everything is possible on a Friday. Have a good one.

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It just depends I guess...

I was chatting, via email, to two work colleagues in another office. It was 3pm and we all left at 4pm and everyone knows working an hour before knock off can give you a headache or an arm cramp or something really annoying that would slow you up getting out the door. So, I was chatting to them about the latest Queensland Firefighter Calendar 2010 that I am going to buy…for charitable reasons of course. Anyway the talk went from half naked men to men in general and how dumb some of them are and that to marry an old, rich bloke was a good idea as you’d have less to put up with. I didn’t agree with that because if you are marrying purely for money – young or old - you would want a contract of what you will and will not do for those dollars. Marrying for money, without any practical thought, would be a minefield.

Yes, I know, I write romance books but I am fully aware that there are people who marry intentionally for big bucks and that’s their choice. Me? No. I don’t see the point of marriage rich or poor. It’s so final. Yes, I have commitment issues. But, in saying that, I have enough business sense to know any arrangement that is built on a foundation of want and need and particularly no love requires legal tying up. So, we chatted about what we would and wouldn’t have in a marriage contract with said rich, old man. How often, if at all sex would be required, monthly allowance, what real estate property automatically became ours on tying the knot, how often we would have to actually talk to them, no cooking or cleaning etc. Yes, I know it’s not romantic but it’s quite interesting hearing what others would, in a business sense, require of such a marriage. Sex is clearly not a requirement. Poor rich guy.

There are women out there who would love to be in love. They deserve to be in love and to find the one. I wish that for them. Others though have dreams of wealth and the easy life and I can’t fault that. It’s hard, practical and in many ways sensible. Love is great. Money is great. I say do what you have to in order to be happy…but whichever it is get it in writing. No, it’s not romantic but neither is divorce and you have to look after your own arse.

One of my all time fave Marilyn moments… I must admit I like diamonds…



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Dinner of champions…

….after a completely crapacious day at work where I was left wondering – what? Huh? Is it me? Who? Do what? Not without danger money I won’t…I went to the gym to be left gasping as I staggered outside into the 33C (92F) winter heat – yes winter in Oz at 5pm. Is the Mother Nature having some serious PMS issues or what? I had to then drop the company mail off which I should have dropped off hours before but what they don’t know won’t hurt them…it’s not my job to do it anyway hence ‘crapacious’ in the first sentence…where was I? Hmmm…work, capacious, gym, heat…ah yes, that led me to wine. While you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink, you can lead a pissed off woman to a bottle of chardy (chardonnay) and she can pull the cork out with her teeth and spit it ten feet away if she is any woman worth her salt.

So, I arrived at the bottlo (liquor store) for my once a week one bottle of chateau-whatever-the-hell-white-wine is on sale. Anyway, bottle of plonk in hand I wandered, bedecked in my sweaty trackie daks (track pants) and Ellora’s Cave T-shirt to the counter. I stopped dead when I saw what was there. Rosy apples. See the pic above. As a kid I loved these apple flavoured lollipops. What were these pure, innocent childhood evoking lollies (candy) doing at a delightfully sinful bottlo? Stuffed it I know but like any red-blooded Aussie I bought three. The perfect accompaniment to 2 glasses of calming plonk. It’s the dinner of champions.

Do you remember a bazillion years ago – 30 or so – when you could go to a store and by a bag of mixed lollies (candy) for a dollar and stagger outside with a huge bag of treasure? It can’t have just been in Australia. It was a huge treat to blow a whole dollar of pocket money on lollies. We used to sit down by the creek in the park and eat wagon wheels, bazooka bubblegum, jaffas, sherbet bombs, redskins, milkbottles, musk sticks, scorched almonds, lolly teeth etc and think we were the luckiest people on the planet. What simple times. How we have stuffed them up since.

So, tonight I sucked on three rosy apples and two glasses of wine for dinner and thought about life, liberty and how I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow. And the answer was? Well, there isn’t one. Crapacious just happens so get on with it. I know, you were thinking I was going to say something maybe more profound and meaningful. Nope. I will add that sweet things and dry white wine do not go together. Yeah, that’s as profound as I get.

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Femininity versus stupidity…

"To us Caster is simply the best 800m woman World Champion and must be given a heroine's welcome upon return to South Africa on Tuesday," the minister said.

The gender-testing debate has sparked outrage in the 18-year-old's home country, with the ruling party and its youth and women's wings saying the test smacked of racism and sexism.

"Accordingly, all of us as South Africans, especially women, must rally around Caster and reject with the contempt it deserves the insinuations being made about her gender."

http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/world/5851307/s-africa-to-give-semenya-heroine-welcome/

I was not going to comment on this issue at all. Why? Because frankly I found it both sexist and racist and I’m not about to judge anyone ever on the way they look. But after hearing someone today crap on about how this woman, Caster Semenya, could only be a man ‘because no woman looks like that’ – well frankly that just shits me off no end.

What is a woman supposed to look like? What is beautiful? What is acceptable? Big boobs? Blonde hair? A pretty voice? Who defines femininity? When did being an individual and unique become a bad thing? When did not being the standard stereotypical pretty woman mean you were a man? How many women do I know who are flat chested? Lots. How many have deep voices? Heaps. Are they men? No. Would anyone question their femininity? Only superficial nongs. I remember several years ago when a female French tennis player’s femininity was being questioned. They were wrong then. ‘Got to wonder why we rarely question the looks of a man like this. Sexism? Oh hell yes.

I’m not beautiful. I’m plain and average. I’m no one’s ideal. But I have big boobs and a 'standard' feminine voice so – phew - I’m safe from accusations. I believe people should seriously look at themselves first before they question the appearance of another or demand someone jump through a hoop to prove who they are. No one is that perfect that they can judge. Leave the woman alone. She won. Get over it.

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Hell and damnation...

It’s freaking Monday again. Mondays are just so wrong. I hate ‘em. Mondays are pukeable. Nothing good ever happens on a Monday at work. My eye is twitching already….

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Operation Tattoo…

…so I mentioned about a month or so ago I was going to do certain things to shake up my life. I was going to change all my furniture around in my house in a half arsed attempt to get the whole feng shui happening. I did that. I even painted my bedroom a bright pink that means I can never have a hangover again I’ll go blind because the colour is so violently pink.

I was – and still am – going to sleep with a vampire. They’re just real hard to find in Brisbane.

The other thing was to get a tattoo. I’m doing that this coming Friday. I have been trying to work out when I would have two hours spare for someone to draw on my upper thigh. None of us have time any more do we? So I thought – fuck it - just find the time. So I went in to the tattoo parlour this arvo and talked tattoo. I have noticed tattoo artists say ‘cool’ a lot. You say I want to do this and that and they say ‘cool’. So in this spirit of coolness I am getting a butterfly tatt on my upper right thigh. Visualize if you will, the blue butterfly above but mauve, the black lines are purple and mauve – and see the other picture (my jeans) – the lines more curled and longer. I like it. Will it change my life? Of course not. It’s just something I feel I have to do....because I can.

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Snoozefest…

I had been putting off forever sorting out a massive amount of filing at work. Why? Well the words ‘massive amount of filing’ should be a indicator of reluctance and also because filing is beyond boring. Besides, I don't like to either think at work or waste my vowels and consonants on filing. But I had to bite the bullet and file. How pukeable.

Lots of people asked me 'what are you doing?' Duh. Anyway, my answer varied from person to person - this means some people believe I was removing all files that started with R because “we as a company were no longer dealing with the letter R” - or counting the number of boy names and dividing by the percentage of girl names to come up with a number to give management. Many others stopped by to tell me that I was wearing a purple shirt and jeans just like the receptionist and another colleague. I responded “didn't you get the memo about wearing purple today? No? Oh, well I would just plead ignorance if you’re asked." Yes, I like to be confusing.

So, the boring, pukeable filing. Is it alphabetically correct? I doubt it. I lost consciousness somewhere after H or maybe it was G so I can confidently say it is a hell of a mess. But that's okay because if someone can’t find something - usually a man - I say “Let me have a 'girl' look and I will find it straight away.” And I do, eventually, and they are impressed. It’s all smoke and mirrors and pure, dumb luck.

This is dedicated to all office workers but particularly A & D in the northern branch office. I still beat you out the door.



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The highlight of my day…

…..was getting a letter from M in Bangladesh. She is now 15. I’ve sponsored her for what seems like forever. She was just a sprog (little girl) when we started writing. Where did the time go? Her big plan now is to be a nurse. She was going to be a teacher but realistically she tells me her family needs her more to be a nurse. I admire her greatly. She has dreams but she also knows she needs to help her family. This is a young woman who gets excited by school exams and results. If she gets a book or pencils – she is over the moon. Soap and fresh water are a luxury. There are no mod cons in her village. M lives simply with her parents, brother and sister. M does not complain. I am completely humbled when I read M’s letters. I can do what I want. I am not restricted due to gender or ethnicity. I am beyond lucky. M’s letters are always a wake up call to me to be a better person.

Ok – off my soapbox…though I like it…makes me look taller…I was watching this version of Pride and Prejudice today. It’s one of my all time fave movies. While I love the Colin Firth version – what a delicious man - I love Greer Garson. What a classically beautiful woman she was. Yeah, it’s old but there is great beauty and romance here and neither dates. Step back in time and check out the old movies. They are true classics.



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Catch him? And then what?

…remain paranoid about keeping him?

Someone sent me this today…

- What goes on inside a man's mind... and how attraction works for him.
- How to "cheat-proof" your relationship... and why he might be tempted.
- The ten fatal mistakes to avoid that most women make with men.
- What to do if your man has a "wandering eye".
- The differences in how men and women think about dating... and why most men want to keep you from being successful.
- The seven secrets to communicating with a man that will create lasting love and affection.
- The truth about men who aren't "emotionally available"... how to know if you've got one and what to do if you're dating one.
- The five things women do that annoy men and kill intimacy.
- The inside tips married women know about the tell-tale signs of a great guy.
http://www.catchhimandkeephim.com/CD135/

Catching and keeping a man. Hmm…while I understand that people want to be in love, I have to wonder if men get the same spiel that women do when it comes to tips on finding a woman. I doubt it. I imagine it would be all about being sensitive and caring and ‘listening to her’ until she believes you mean it. And, do men want to catch and keep or is it just women with the lasso? You have to wonder when you read all that above. Frig…why would you bother agonizing over all that? What happened to meeting – deciding if you’re compatible and then working out where to go from there?

Yes, love is complicated. Relationships are difficult – but hunting down then tagging and bagging a man, after following a set of defined rules, seems both desperate and pretty damn non romantic to me. I also have to wonder why any woman would allow herself to get to the stage when she is looking to utilize tips like this. Is it a self esteem issue that women feel they ‘have to have a man’ or is it society deems they should and if they don’t ‘what’s wrong with them?’ As we all know, the honest truth is some people fall in love, some don’t and some never stay with their true love. It’s a crap shoot really. Why stress over it?

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A gift from the gods...

I opened my email to find a gift from the Cover Gods at Ellora’s Cave. Who’s a lucky girl? I was asked to write a story that was full on Aussie – words and characteristics and to make it true to real Aussie life. Thigh High is it. It’s going to be in an anthology with a bunch of other Aussie writers.

Okay, yeah below is very cute but it made me smile…realism versus romance…

HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY?

You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming -- Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with -- Kristen, age 10

WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?

Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then-- Camille, age 10

HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?

You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids -- Derrick, age 8

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MUM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?

Both don't want any more kids -- Lori, age 8

WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?

Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough-- Lynnette, age 8

On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that Usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date-- Martin, age 10

WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?

I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns-- Craig, age 9

WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?

When they're rich -- Pam, age 7

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that- - Curt, age 7

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do -- Howard, age 8

IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?

It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them -- Anita, age 9

HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?

There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there? -- Kelvin, age 8

HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?

Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck-- Ricky, age 10

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And you are?

Now that I sent off my werewolf book to my editor several days ago, I’ve been thinking about the next book. I knocked a lot of the dialogue up for it at work. I just couldn’t think up a character name for the hero. I started with…let’s say John – he’s not called John…no, there’s no reason a hero can’t be called John but in this book I want a particular vibe and John doesn’t fit it…anyway so I had my generic ‘John’ and I just needed a surname.

On my way to the gym this morning I drove along mumbling names to myself. If you see a person mumbling in the street, 4 to 1 odds they’re a writer or a lunatic…same difference some times. I tend to mumble a lot as I work through dialogue in my head. I also have a habit of staring into space visualizing the practicalities of what a character is doing. People who know me say “Uh-oh, she’s gone again.”

Anyway, as I drove I was looking at signs. The gym is near my work which is in an industrial zone. Signs like pallet and truck and bobcat abound. John Truck, John Hydraulic, John Steelmesh, John Safety-glass. At the gym I came up with John Stairmaster, John Rower, John Treadmill, John Kickbag. They just don’t fly do they?

As I drove home all hot and sweaty, I looked at street names. Drott? Um no. Campbell? Nope, not if your affiliated with the McDonald Clan. John Jeenly. Weird. John Coolabah. Nah, too Aussie. And then I saw the name. I screeched the car to a halt and grabbed a pen and notebook from the passenger seat and scribbled the name down. Perfect name for my smart arse hero. What will the book be about? It’s based on my time working in the manufacturing side of the music industry. Lots of interesting stuff happens there. Work 29 jobs and you’ll always have the basis of a story.

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Oppression…

AFGHANISTAN has quietly passed a law permitting Shiite men to deny their wives food and sustenance if they refuse to obey their husbands' sexual demands, despite international outrage over an earlier version of the legislation that President Hamid Karzai had promised to review.

The new final draft of the legislation also grants guardianship of children exclusively to their fathers and grandfathers, and requires women to gain permission from their husbands to work.

''It also effectively allows a rapist to avoid prosecution by paying 'blood money' to a girl who was injured when he raped her,'' the US charity Human Rights Watch said.

http://www.theage.com.au/world/barbaric-laws-reverse-afghan-womens-rights-20090815-elqj.html

I don’t doubt these ‘law makers’ were quiet as they slipped this law in being. It is wrong and disgusting and barbaric. To me, it’s effectively saying that women have no rights whatsoever when it comes to sex and their own bodies. Women are literally screwed by these laws. You’re not in the mood for sex? ‘Got a headache? Too bad. He wants it. You have to. As a woman you have no rights.

Just think for one moment if you as a woman were not ‘allowed’ to go outside the house. That means no shopping, no work, no meeting friends, no pursuing hobbies and no furthering your education. You are under the control of a man. Basically what is between your legs defines your life. I cannot even fathom that. It smacks at every fundamental human right.

What if you had a smart, talented daughter growing up in that atmosphere? What if she wanted to further her education but wasn’t allowed? What if she wanted more? You have no rights over her because as a woman you are not her guardian. Both you and she must remain in your place because that’s the law.

And a rapist paying ‘blood money’ and escaping punishment? We would be in an uproar if this happened in our countries. It’s sick and demeaning towards women.

For all his fine words, Afghanistan leader Hamid Karzai is no better than the mob he replaced. I believe he is more interested in dressing well and appeasing men than equal rights. A true leader leads all his people not just dictates to the minority to appease others.

This makes me damned angry. I feel helpless that I cannot help these women. I want to get on a plane and kick the arse of these dickheads. We absolutely take our freedom for granted. We are incredibly lucky we don’t have nitwits passing archaic laws due to gender. Imagine being a chattel? A baby making machine? How long would any of us last? Not long I’d reckon. What strength these women in Afghanistan, and other similar countries, must have to endure all this bullshit without giving up hope.

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Exactly....

Have a good weekend.

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It is written Amarinda…

** I’m here today rabbiting on as I do - and there's a contest...

So, I’ve ruined someone’s life. No really, I didn’t take up Penelope – aka – the Cosmic Goddess's amazing online wisdom about my life. She spent hours, she told me, researching my “free” reading and in the blink of an eye I disregarded her sage advice and her special $29.99 offer to know more about the true meaning of my life. Well jeez. I worked out that meaning for free years ago. The meaning of life is to move on and endure no matter what crapacious thing smacks you in the head.

Anyway the Goddess is pissed – but not completely so because for the last month she has been sending me daily ’last chance’ emails to come to my senses and realize that only she “could lead the way.” I think that’s kind of nice she cares so much about a complete stranger who happens to own a credit card. How did I hook up with this person? Well, a while ago, best friend Ethel and I discovered her when we were wasting time…er…I mean being productive at work. We liked her a lot as she would send these free reading emails with all these ‘stunning’ and ‘life changing’ predictions. We would compare predictions like “when you drive home from work tonight you will pass the love of your life standing at a bus stop. If he looks immediately at you, you will know great happiness. If he doesn’t notice you, as you speed by, then happiness will be lost.” Riiiight. Or “the man with the pierced navel and the yellow cat may look confused but in fact he is leading the way to your spiritual happiness.” Uh huh. Or “Speak silently, yet make your heart loud for on the 15th great wisdom will be delivered to you in the form of an egg.” I was always bummed that none of this happened.

Yeah, I know this Goddess chick is about as clairvoyant as an orange but like most crazy people she is interesting and free entertainment. So what the hell… and the egg could’ve just been delayed in the mail.

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Ah, officialdom…

I did the wildly exhilarating grocery shopping thing today. Yes, I know I don’t have to tell you how stimulating that is. Anyway, it was so exciting that I left behind two bags of groceries. Well, I tend to zone out when I do the hunter-gatherer thing. ‘Didn’t leave the alcohol behind…hmmm…anyway I rang the store to see if they were still there on the check-out. The response? “Maybe.”

Manager – what register did put your groceries through?
Amarinda – I don’t know they all look the same. It had a person serving and a light on with a conveyor belt thingy.
M – Do you have your receipt? What number is on the receipt?
A – I can’t see a number
M – Was it a man or a woman that served you?
A – A woman
M – What was on her name badge?
A – If I could remember that then we wouldn’t be doing this. Do you have my two grocery bags or not?
M – Maybe – what was in them?
A – Soda water (I drink it by the gallon)
M – Describe the bottles
A – Are you serious?
M – Yes, I need to know they’re yours
A – So you have them
M – Describe them please
A – Four bottles – 2.5 litres each – generic brand – white and red labels – not sure where they are made or exact contents other than carbonated water. Is that enough?
M – We have them
A – Great I’ll pick them up
M – I’ll need you full name and address
A – For $5.00 worth of soda?
M – We have to make sure we give them to the right person.

I have to wonder how many random people go up to the manager’s counter at a supermarket and query if any bags of soda water are left there and if so say they are the rightful owners? Is soda water the new gold? Give someone a title on their badge and they become a tinpot god of officialdom. Imagine if they got into public office. Oh wait, most of them have…

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Freedom of speech….

A dog was shot by idiots who were out hunting. Someone tried to help the dog by taking it to the Beltrami Humane Society. They could not help for all the reasons below. The dog died. The person was angry and vocal about the death and about what should have or could have been done. She wanted to blame someone. I understand that. It’s sad and it’s wrong about the dog’s death but those hunters are the real villains here.

The humane society’s point of view…

“Basically, we turned the shepherd away because we are only a shelter. We don't have a vet or vet tech on staff, nor do we have a vet on call. We are not a county or city run shelter, but are a non-profit no-kill shelter. We would not have been able to euthanize the dog if we had wanted to - we don't have the equipment. We run on donations and fundraisers. I informed X of another shelter 40-50 miles away that might be able to help…”

Email from Amy Chilson - Assistant Director, Beltrami Humane Society - posted with her permission.
http://www.beltramihumane.com/

My comment on a blog…

Amarinda Jones said... Hmmm...you know, I'm sure there is another side to this story and I would like to hear it from the Humane society before I before I condemn them...August 5, 2009 2:45 PM

Yes, what a terrible comment I made about fairness. I have to wonder when someone attacks me, on a blog and in a personal email, after a simple comment, what is the motive behind such anger and defamation? There are two sides to every story and I refuse to be howled down because someone does not like that I made a comment and/or did not instantly agree with everyone else. Too bad. Freedom of speech is just that. Free to speak without fear. Countries are founded on those principles. I think we forget that sometimes.

I contacted the society as this angry person suggested. Most of the response is above. I say ‘most’ for I will not publicly name the person who is so pissed at me. Unlike her, I believe no one is all right or all wrong - the truth is somewhere in the middle - and that defamation has a legal and pursuable follow on. There are always two sides to a story and both should be heard before condemnation. Have an opinion by all means but don’t shout down or defame another if someone questions it or does not agree with you or needs more information to make a judgment.

It’s a terrible thing when any animal is shot and suffers. No one would disagree with that. Maybe instead of getting angry that animals cannot be saved – because not every animal will be saved - consider donating to your local humane society. Be proactive not reactive. Save what part of the world you can and accept what you can’t and move on without all the need to blame someone. And, as we are free to speak – we should all stop and remember others are too.

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Scarlet knickers…

There is this theory, I read it somewhere, that the colour of knickers is an indicator of how you feel and that the correct colour undies can change the course of your day. The best colour knickers to wear are yellow. It's supposed to be a happy colour. How did they ascertain these facts? Who knows but I daresay over a couple of drinks all sorts of theories can be discovered.

1: Red will give you a boost of energy whilst stimulating your immune system. Red can activate your appetite - beware. It evokes action and passion and a perfect color if you tend to be a procrastinator.
2: Orange will allow you to digest your emotions without holding onto stuff and encourage emotional balance and optimism. It is warm hearted and offers a sense of community whilst offering a feeling of tolerance. Perfect color for social gatherings.
3: Blue is tranquil and peaceful. It has been proven to reduce pain levels. It aids in acquiring inner peace and supports creativity. Blue is associated with the right hand side of the brain.
4: Green refreshes, encourages growth, is balancing and healing. It is nurturing and associated with the heart. Green promotes prosperity and well being. Green of course is a combination of blue and yellow.
5: Yellow lifts your spirits and offers you a positive feeling. It evokes confidence and joy. It is connected to your mental thinking and improves attention to detail and academic achievement. It improves concentration and clarity of thought.
6: Purple is known to heighten your intuition. It is similar to blue in that it offers comfort and calm. A great color for meditation.

http://www.wellsphere.com/mind-body-article/color-therapy-change-your-underwear-change-your-mood/6973

I wore scarlet knickers today – yes, I know, too much information. Was I more passionate and active? No, not really but I did find three missing combs (I’m always losing combs because I’m messy) I had been looking for. So, one could say scarlet knickers help you find what is lost. Just a thought if you are trying to find something. Scarlet knickers will help. Well - it’s as good as any other theory…

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A character from characterville...

I wrote this secondary character called Swerve in my first Vampire book called Shades of Gray. The feedback from readers about Swerve was quite amazing. He is this guy who wanders in and out doing dumb stuff. He’s annoying and yet you can’t help but like him despite his irritating habits and inability to focus on anything.

Anyway, Swerve shows up in Run the Gantlet, again as a secondary character. Gantlet sort of roughly follows the other three vamp books but not really. I’m not into writing a deadset series. I like to link books so they can be read in any order but none are dependant on the other. What is Swerve doing with vampires? Who the bloody hell knows. But he’s there being Swerve – vague, irresponsible yet strangely wise in a drugged sort of way.

Swerve wanders in and out of Gantlet, really just as a side bar to other stuff that is happening. Why did I put him in there when he really has nothing to do with the story? I’m not sure. He just turned up so I continued writing him in. And again, the response to him has been amazing. So, due to that, as soon as I finish my werewolf book, I’m going to write a vampire book featuring Swerve. Who is Swerve? Why is he just wandering through vampire books and why do we want to know more about the Swerves of the world? In my mind I know who Swerve is. I’ll be interested to see if it matches what readers think. I believe there is a little Swerve in all of us.

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Openings…

Have you noticed that doors have a way of appearing at critical periods in your life and you have to make a choice whether to open them or not? Change your life or mess it up? Go for more knowing you could be risking all? Kick the door in and venture boldly or stick you head around the corner and suss it out? Or maybe it’s better to just walk on by and save yourself the work. What to do? What to do?

Have a good day. I will be pondering doors…oh yeah…and I’ll be at work doing stuff too…

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I remain myself…

To thine own self be true – William Shakespeare.

He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away. ~Raymond Hull

Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else. ~Judy Garland

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. ~Dr. Seuss

I said something the other day that upset someone so much they called me a ‘bitch.’ Golly gee. Here’s what I think. You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to agree with any opinion I have for it is just that–opinion based on what I believe. You don’t have to read the blog if it’s going to upset you. That’s okay. How boring would the world be if we all agreed on everything?

We all have choices in life. I’m not about to stop saying what I feel or think or believe just because someone doesn’t like it. I am me. I am a woman. I am a bitch. I am an individual. I am a nonconformist. I am a sinner. I am a piece of work. I am a commenter. I am okay. I am myself. I will not change to suit someone else. I will not hold my tongue for fear of not fitting in. And, as always, I will remain true to me.



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Saturday in Oz...

Have a good day

*****************************

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I am lucky…

A SUDANESE journalist facing 40 lashes for wearing "indecent" trousers vowed on the eve of her judgement that she is ready to be whipped 40,000 times in her bid to change the country's harsh laws.

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,25874951-32682,00.html

When I first started fulltime work at 18, I was employed at a major department store. The rule was women were not allowed to wear slacks/pants/trousers – call ‘em what you will. They had to wear skirts and dresses and pantyhose. This was around 1982. Save yourself the math – I’m 45. Anyway, I always thought this was dumb because I had been working at Maccas (McDonalds) since I was 15 and the uniform included slacks. But, in 1982, the department store job was just about getting a bit more money before I went to go overseas to work so the trouser rule while stupid, I put up with.

Police arrested Hussein and 12 other women wearing trousers at a Khartoum restaurant on July 3. Two days later 10 of the women accepted a punishment of 10 lashes, but Hussein is appealing in a bid to eliminate such rough justice.

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,25874951-32682,00.html

"We are here to protest against this law that oppresses women and debases them," said one of the protesters, Amal Habani, a female columnist for the daily Ajraas Al Hurria, or Bells of Freedom in Arabic.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,536590,00.html

How lucky am I? I can wear trousers every day at work without anyone telling me it’s unacceptable or obscene because it reminds men I have a vagina and an arse. I am free from being flogged just because I am different, outspoken and myself. I am free because I can chat to a man in a gym without it being considered dishonorable to my family. I am lucky because I can go to a gym and wear form fitting track pants. I am lucky because I earn my own money and I can pay for a gym. I am lucky that I can give back as good as I get from men at work without being punished. I am lucky that men have to ask me permission to do something. I am lucky I can speak freely and piss people off and risk nothing but someone disliking me. I am lucky I can pick and choose and that I rely on no man. I am lucky I am not considered an outcast as I see no point, for me, in marriage. I am lucky I have a car and a house and no man makes me feel like I should be grateful for him providing it. I am lucky I can write what I do without having to justify or explain it. I am lucky that I am not governed by archaic religious laws that if even a higher power existed would have considered a load of crap. I am free to do what I want, be what I want, say what I want. That is a power that I know I, and a lot of other women, take for granted. We have so much powerful when other women have so little.

Shame on the religious bigots and over-zealous authorities in Sudan. I admire Lubna Hussein and every woman in any oppressive regime or country who says “I refuse to take this shit from you any more.” The risks you take for freedom humble me.

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Uh oh....

“…you’re buying a cold one.”

“Damn straight, Skippy. I’ve had the day from hell.” I placed the icy cold bottle of Aussie Chardy (Chardonnay) on the bottlo (liquor store) counter. I never buy cold. They know that. I drink a bottle of wine a week…a glass here…a glass there. Gone are the days when I was dumb and twenty and could drink people under the table…’probably still could…but I digress…the day had been shitful. Even best friend Ethel, across town at her job, added the word ‘scrotum’ into her email subject line that indicated how crapacious her day was. If Ethel uses ‘scrotum’ in a sentence, it’s a bad day.

Why was it bad? Because it was all my fault…no, really. At work, I try and balance/juggle money and banking all day and deal with people who’d rather balance a pen on their nose than consider for a moment what happened to cheques, or credit card payments or vital information I should know before I ring someone and find out an answer I should have known two weeks ago and now it will take hours to sort the problem out. Hence the wine….and the bag of chips…oh and the chocolate mud scone. And no, it’s not part of my diet. And no, I don’t give a rat’s bottom.

I saw this picture – see above and thought – yep – ‘should have been a stripper – probably would have been easier. Now, don’t get me wrong. I admire strippers. They are gutsy people who have seen it all and wouldn’t have to reach for the chardy and chips to de-stress. That’s why in my next life I’m coming back as a stripper. I have the attitude but not the body which probably accounts for not being a stripper in this life. I’m also very good with money so shove a hundred bucks in my knickers and I would bank it – not wait for some cranky person to ring to demand where it was.

Fear of Being – has been released – let the pigeons loose…

The blurb…

Spencer Grace is living her nightmares. No longer content to haunt her dreams, an evil creature called the red man invades her world and turns it upside down. He knows things about her that no one else does. He feeds on her fears. He wants her for his own. Spencer is fighting for her life. She will not let this bastard win.

But this creature is not the only one new to her life. Two men, each with their own agenda, come to her. Both want her body and her heart. Both are prepared to share Spencer to allow her a long dreamt of desire. But in the end only one can have her. Who is stronger?

But can Spencer believe either man? Hot sex and fantasy is one thing but trust is another. It’s no coincidence that evil and love have come into her life at the same time.

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Whip me...

..and I’ll smack you in the chops. No seriously – if a man tied me up and did things to me, I swear to god the minute I was loose he’d be a dead man. And dominate me? Forget it. It ain’t gonna happen.

What am I rambling about? After I finished my gym training session with Hugh, I was talking to a friend on my mobile (cell phone) as I staggered to Patrick, my car, all hot, sweaty and red faced. She indicated that training was like a BDSM session with Hugh making me do impossible, hard, hot things that made me ache and sweat and moan…hmmm…this led us on to a discussion on the whole BDSM thing. While I respect some people are into the whole bondage-you-will-do-as-I-say-and-pain-is-pleasure thing – I don’t understand it. No, I don’t believe I’m a prude but I doubt – actually I know – I do not have a submissive bone in my body so BDSM strikes me as odd. Odd is not bad…generally I like odd… but this? Seriously?

Do you think allowing yourself to submit to the pain/pleasure thing is a strength? Or is it more of a need to be wanted and a chance to permit yourself to be out of control? Is it about trusting someone? Is it a power trip for the dominator? Or is it something they need to do to feel strong? Is showing weakness a good thing? Is it sexually titillating or sexually abusive? While is all seems rather tiring to me, it interests me why people do it and read it. I have never tried to write it. Oh sure, occasionally an Amarinda heroine gets herself tied up but on the whole I personally suck at being submissive so I can hardly write something I can’t do. But if you have the answers – let me know…and no, the Hugh thing is all about fitness and I call him a lot of bad names when he is training me so I’m still in control baby. That’s how I like it.

Lickety Split is released today at Ellora's Cave. It's part of the "Creamy" range of specialty books released by EC. Essentially it's about ice cream - how it brings people together and all the lovely, yummy things you can do with it.

The blurb...

What do sex and ice cream have in common? Waverly Astor is about to learn the hard way when she finds herself trapped in a freezer with the hottest hunk she has ever seen. Can lust compete with her true love of ice cream? Is having sex with the hard-bodied god a good idea when they have nothing but hot bodies in common?

Tor Arnett is more than happy to heat up Waverley’s life. She is sex on a stick and he wants to lick every part of her delicious body. The lady is most definitely willing. He has two things on his to-do list—catching a thief and sex with a beautiful woman. Not necessarily in that order.

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He did what to her on page one?

I was blog hopping – checking out who was thinking what about various things. One blog, that I hadn’t read for a very long time made me think one thing straight away – and that was huh? The writer, who is a writer, was complaining about erotic romance books and how these books always have the hero and heroine having sex in the first couple of pages. Hmmm…while I’m a great believer on having an opinion, why would you set out to read an erotic romance knowing there’s a bloody good chance that sex is going to happen in the book and more that likely, from the erotica books I have read, in the first chapter or in some cases the first sentence?

This blogger then went on to criticize the fact that romance cannot come from sex, that these books were unrealistic, that the words authors use were ‘inappropriate’ and she would never read any of them again. First up, that’s absolutely her choice to not read erotica again. I respect that. But I gotta’ say that the whole thing about romance books, whether they are mainstream or erotica, is that they’re first and foremost romantic fantasy. That’s what people want to read. A book allows you a couple of hours to kickback and not think about all the crap going in your life or has the laundry been done or can I serve up cereal again tonight for dinner or do I pay the bill on the reminder notice or can I push it ‘til the final demand? Reading is a break from real life. Most readers recognize that. While they would like a hero, maybe wearing a kilt, to kick open a door, storm in, snatch them up in his arms and take them to some wildly exotic place and shag their brains out giving them repetitive mind blowing orgasms, I gotta tell ya’ it’s a pretty fair bet it ain’t gonna’ happen in real life. It’s fantasy. Readers know that.

As for the romance not evolving from sex, well here’s the thing, it can and it does and if it’s never happened to you then don’t declare it can’t happen. How do you know? Inappropriate language….really, what is inappropriate anymore? ‘Fuck’ is used constantly as is ‘cock’ and ‘pussy’ and ‘arse’ etc not only in books but on TV, music, film and in the street. If you find those words offensive then you have every right not to read an erotic romance. Those words, and much worse, are going to be in there and I would have assumed a writer, in the romance writing business, would understand how different genres work.

Yes, I respect her opinion. No, I don’t agree with her dismissal of an entire genre. That’s dismissing the readers who love it.

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The abnormality of being normal…

Once more I have been blessed by the Ellora’s Cave cover gods with a beaut cover for Pet Me. It’s exactly – right down to the splashing goldfish in the bowl - what I asked for. Ask – specifically – and you generally get what you want in covers. What I love most about this cover are the smiles. They are just perfect for this story. It’s about a couple who meet and fight over a goldfish called Arthur. Why? It’s involved and kind of silly. What happens? Lot’s of stuff. It’s due out in April next year.

I did get a couple of comments about the man’s body – specifically his chest. One comment was “my boobs aren’t that big”. And the other “that’s not normal for a man.” Ah, I love it when people try to argue the perception of ‘normal’ with me. What is normal? Stuff all#. Are we all supposed to look the same? Have the same chest, boobage and arse per square inch? I don’t want to look like every other bugger^ on the planet. I’ve lived hard, messy and enjoyably to get this body. I don’t want to be perceived as normal. How bloody boring. “Normal” to me means that you are so preoccupied with worrying about fitting in and not thinking outside the box that you become boring. Hence – normal = boring. I have this bizarre notion that we should view people as actual people and not replicas of what we think is 'normal'. And, just throwing this out there, but we should also consider focusing on someone’s words or eyes or smile and not worry if they are a size 4 or have a body that every clone has.

Speaking of bodies and perceptions, I showed the Lickety Split cover – eyes left, pan down - to a male acquaintance. The model has a gorgeous body which I am sure he worked his arse off to get. Anyway this male said to me ‘that’s the body I want’ - no, not in a sexual way – in a way that only a dreamer does. Now, I don’t want to call him superficial – he is – but his life revolves around the way people look. How tiring is that? And the chances of him getting to look like Mr Lickety Split by wishing are Buckley’s* and none. It scares me what twaddle comes out of people’s mouths. Why wish for something that is not going to happen? Be happy that you’re healthy and employed and can put food on the table and pay the bills. A lot of people can’t and I bet they’re not worrying about how their body looks.

So, in summary – be abnormal and enjoy it. All the best people do.

# Stuff all = nothing
^ Bugger = in this case means person – though it is an amazingly flexible word that can mean almost anything in Aussie-speak.
*Buckley’s – Aussie expression – meaning Buckley’s Chance - meaning no chance. Who was Buckley? William Buckley (1780-1856), a convict who escaped in Victoria in 1803 and lived among the Aborigines there for 30 years (survival in the bush was reckoned no chance).
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Buckley's_chance

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