Curses…foiled again…

I may be slightly feral at the moment - you know, in that I'll-rip-your-face-off-and-then-burst-into-tears-if-you-piss-me-off-kind-of-way. Lordy, it's exhausting and I feel after a zillion years of dealing with this pms and period crap, it should and must finish now. No, really, it should. Whom do I see about that? Who is the cosmic prick who decided women should deal with this pukeable thing every month for god knows how many damn years? Find him. Bring him to me. I want to speak to him - and it can only be a ‘him’ because no woman, no matter how catty, would inflict this on another woman. It would be wrong. Women have more sense therefore it was a male cosmic being. No, no point arguing with me at the moment as you would lose and I would probably do a victory dance and maybe do one of those throaty war cries. No, I don’t have to be rational. I don’t want to be…so there.

What would I say to the miserable cosmic bastard in charge of making women cursed every month? A lot and it wouldn’t be pleasant but I feel enough is enough. Yes, yes, I know biologically why it happens but I feel when you reach say 24 and if you don’t have a maternal bone in your body then a magic spell should be cast over you and all this suffering ends. See how infinitely logical that is? That will be my first command when I rule the world.

I want menopause. No really, I do. Yes, I realize it's a different degree of crapaciousness but I’m ready for the change. I want the change. I DEMAND THE CHANGE. Bring it on.

Did I mention I’m somewhat ratty at the moment? Did I also mention I can repeat myself as many times as I like due to said rattiness…evil hiss…smell of sulphur…narrowing of eyes…where’s my goddamn Mars bar? So, to make myself feel better and to help the world economy, I bought a pair of shoes. Doc Marten's in fact. I love Docs and bugger it, I deserved them…okay maybe not, but shut up. Besides it was those or more chocolate and I feel I was being very good as shoes you can put on and remove but chocolate sits on you hips and arse forever - and thank you very much to the cosmic, frigging – no doubt again male - being who made chocolate fattening. No really, what a swell guy you are….eye roll…sneer…poking my tongue out at you. Anyway I bought the shoes in the picture. They're called Diva shoes. They're perfect. They’re the sort of shoes Minnie Mouse would wear when she’s pms’ing…what is it with her and Mickey? What a little, high pitched twit he is. You think she would have worked out by now he is never going to marry her. I find him very suspect and that voice of his would just wear on my nerves. Minnie could do so much better than him. Do you think she stays with him from habit or is she at least using him for his money? And why does he always wear his pants right up under his armpits?

Anyway…maybe I digress…with these Docs I will be taller - and everyone knows when you’re taller you look thinner hence less reason to diet. Miracle shoes. Hallelujah and pass the chocolate cake.

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So I was having this marathon sex session…

…it was all going along very nicely. Everyone was happy and excited and it was steamy hot and completely out of control. My concentration level was intense as I only wanted one thing and I wanted it then and there, fast and thorough...oh yeah baby…but then it happened…damn…I got a leg cramp and forgot about sex and orgasms as I yelped and jumped up, knocking over a glass of soda water, glass smashing to the ground. The moment was completely ruined. ‘Ever notice how liquid seems to go everywhere and you can only ever find the last piece of glass when you stand on it?

Anyway, after cleaning up and finding a band aid, sex was the last thing I had on my mind. Shame that. The hero was all hot and hard and the heroine was thinking “well, hell, maybe I misjudged him and naked he looks mighty fine…” Yeah, I was writing. Nah, I’m too pure for marathon sex…sort of…kinda…

Sex huh? It's never straight forward and you have to be in the mood for it. And writing it? Frig it's hard. There is so much to remember when you’re actually writing it as opposed to doing it. Next time you have sex, stop and think for a moment how to write it. And it's not just about the female point of view – writing that’s easy. It's the male that’s hard…so to speak. Does any woman really understand how a man’s mind works? I think not. I asked a male friend about the whole ejaculation thing and what he felt in the moment. Did I feel weird asking? Hmm, no, because I wanted a man who would actually tell me the truth and not give me some fairy story about ‘staying power’ and ‘iron-like control’ and ‘going all night’ and having the ‘strength of superman’…I mean come on ...and men think women fake it. Anyway this is a cleaned up/abbreviated version of his response…most interesting in a strangely scientific way…

"I find that it starts with a tingling feeling in the scrotum/testicles and then the physical swelling takes over. As said before they are funny things and tend to grow in a straight line which generally requires some degree of adjustment in that area to keep things comfortable….As for the actual 'coming'. The general rhythmic motion of the lips/mouth/hand/anus/breasts across the top half of the shaft generates the required sensation to build up the flow of semen to the scrotum area and once the point is reached where sufficient intensity is reached the prostrate takes over and pulses the semen out through the shaft and in doing so creates the orgasm for the man. The feeling is generally for 15 - 20 seconds and leaves the knees a bit weak and the ability to hold the erection somewhat more difficult. At this point it is difficult to keep the rhythm up as the cock becomes limper and the desire to continue pumping somewhat weakened."

Hard to describe really - ask me something specific and I will elaborate on that."

My response to that – “15 – 20 seconds…jeez romance heroes last longer…”

Men…funny creatures yet fascinating…and yes, I did ask more specific stuff…but that’s another blog.

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Gay? Female? Too bad, so sad…

The Victorian government is expected to announce on Sunday that religious groups will be allowed to discriminate against gays and single mothers in a controversial compromise reached on workers' rights.
Attorney-General Rob Hulls has approved of a plan to let church-run organisations refuse employment to anyone they believe undermines their beliefs, The Sunday Age says.

The newspaper says the plan will allow church groups to discriminate on grounds of sex, sexual orientation, marital status and parental status, but in return these groups will cease being able to discriminate on the basis of race, age, disability, political beliefs, breastfeeding and physical features.
http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/newshome/6104482

I had to read this twice because I couldn’t believe anything so stupid could be true. Discriminating “on grounds of sex, sexual orientation, marital status and parental status.” So in essence what this means is women, anyone not straight as a ruler or single parents or those ‘living in sin’ are not acceptable as they undermine the beliefs of a religious body who in theory is preaching God’s word about love, equality and humanity. I’m sorry…what century is this again?

How is this a ‘compromise’ to ‘workers rights’? Does this mean a 60 year old, black, heterosexual male will get precedence over a white, gay man just because he’s straight and they’ll over look the black thing due to him being deemed more ‘normal’? Will a radical feminist raising three kids on her own be shown the door because a woman, with a limp and a big nose, but is married, is more acceptable to these bigoted twits?

No one should be ‘allowed to discriminate’ against anyone let alone a government body condoning it. If this is politics then it’s true any nong with a healthy bank balance can enter the game. If this is religion then I pleased I’m a heathen. I’m often accused of being a rampant socialist. I have this crazy belief that no one is better than anyone else and everyone should be treated equally. Bargaining and compromising with people’s lives? It’s just plain wrong. ‘Victorian government’? Yeah you belong back in that century.

"ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS"- George Orwell, Animal Farm, Ch. 10

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Black rose tattoo….

…so I got my black rose tattoo today. I sat in my purple bra, cleavage busting forth and got my shoulder inked. I love the tattoo. Jason did a fabulous job with what half arsed info I gave him. I said I want this and that…maybe some swirly things and a kick arse rose and he made an excellent drawing of exactly what I wanted. I love it when people get you straight away – that you don’t have to pull out the sock puppets or do an interpretative dance for them to understand what you want. That’s so refreshing. Few people are so in tune with our own individual needs that it astounds me every time I meet someone simpatico. I was happy for him to take a picture of the tatt. He did an excellent job. Thank you Jason.

The gentlemen at tattoo parlour brought up something that had never occurred to me. As writers we always get pissed when an arsehole e-book pirate – no apologies – they are – takes one of our books – overriding legal copyright and illegally sells our product to make a profit for themselves. Utter wankers. What about tattoo designs? Think about the effort that goes into drawing these tattoos. I’m not talking about the old ‘mother’ and ‘anchor’ tattoos. There are people walking around with some amazing and beautiful tattoos on them. What if they take a photo of them and it ends up on the internet? What if a tattoo site offering cheap downloads pinches the design of a tattoo artist and on sells it for their own profit? It’s bloody wrong. Can a tattoo be copyrighted and policed? How hard would that be? What the hell is it with uninteresting, lazy, non-inventive, untalented people who believe they have the right to steal? Why exactly are these predators on the planet?

Tattoos – I love ‘em but think before you ink. You will have it forever.

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Bloody fate…

I swear fate or kismet or one of those little buggers has been slapping me in the head all week, making me look at my life and think. And worse than the whole thinking thing, something so alien to me has happened. I've been consumed with regret about something. I don’t believe in regrets normally because I believe you do what you are meant to do and there was never ever any other outcome you could have taken so worry? It’s all about synchronicity isn’t? Things happen for a reason so why moan if stuff doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to? But this...oh man...I keep thinking I should have done something...why didn’t I read between the lines? What is the point of pride? Does it beat need and hunger? Basically I have come to the enlightened conclusion that destiny sucks and can’t be trusted.

Nah, there's no real, solid answer to any of this. If there was I would have drawn a line under what I am feeling and moved on without all this thinking crap going on. I don’t know. Maybe we're never meant to know the answer to some questions. Maybe we're meant to feel regret every so often to make us realize that there are some things that are more important to us then we ever realized could be. Jeez…life can be exhausting can’t it?

But…a less exhausting thing…I get my second tattoo today. I’m looking forward to it. Why? Having a tattoo is like a declaration of life and who you are and what you want. It ain’t got nothing to do with destiny.

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It’s Friday…

…blessed be this day. I got nothing of any note that I can spruik on in a public forum. I just plan to get through the work day as fast as possible. Do we wish our lives away? No, because work isn’t life is it?

For homework, a class in NSW* were asked to draw their parents at work.
This is Jessica's drawing:

Here's the letter the teacher received the next day:

Dear Mrs. Jackson, I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer.

I work at Bunnings** and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week after the floods hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had and then I found one more in stock and several people were fighting over who would get it.

Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole. It's supposed to depict me selling the last shovel we had in the store.

*NSW – New South Wales (Oz)
** Bunnings – hardware store

The judgements we make on others huh?

As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never be pointing the wrong direction

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Inner peace....

Inner peace

I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me and we all could use more calm in our lives. By following the simple advice I heard on a Medical TV show, I have finally found inner peace.

A Doctor proclaimed the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started.

So I looked around my house to see things I'd started and hadn't finished, and, before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of shhardonay, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of vocka, a pockage of Prunglies, tha mainder of bot Prozic and Valum scriptins, the res of the Chesescke an a box a choclits.

Yu haf no idr who gud I fel. Peas sen dis orn to dem yu fee AR in ned ov inr pis...

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

**I always enjoy this email when I get it…it’s an oldie but a goodie…have a peaceful day

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Of frozen chooks and raffles…

How many times in your life do you get to explain what a frozen chook raffle is? Not many - and to be honest being an Aussie I would never have to as other Aussies understand me and the whole frozen chook raffle deal. But I wrote this book for Ellora's Cave - Thigh High - part of the Going Down Under series that is specifically Aussie stories written in Aussie speak by actual Aussies. They said speak Aussie in it. We want you to. Right-o, I bloody will sunshine.

Anyway back to the chook – chook equals chicken. Why is it frozen? Well, that's what the Fle wanted to know. What's a Fle? A final line editor and basically they are the last person who checks your book before it heads out for publication. Now, the Fle being an American was goggle-eyed at the terminology in the book. Well you would be. Aussie strine is like a foreign language when we speak it in all its glory. Normally I am never allowed to keep Aussie words in any book as other nationalities “won’t understand” - so it was nice not only to spruik fair dinkum Aussie but have it remain in place. Mind you, I had to write an extensive glossary to explain what various words meant. The poor Fle stumbled on a couple I didn’t think to add into the long glossary. I just assumed they were universal speak. What were they?

- I put in that ‘nong’ equalled ‘dill’ but apparently in Yankee-speak ‘dill’ is pickle…in Aussie speak it’s a silly person…I guess some people are like pickles.

- ‘big smoke’ – when someone is reported to be heading to the big smoke it means the city – you know – pollution, smog = smoke.

- and apparently ‘Blind Freddie’ is another Aussie only thing – it means someone with no sense of sight could see the obvious.

And then there's the frozen chook. Why is it being raffled? Well...in Australian pubs it's not uncommon to be having lunch or a drink and someone comes round with something to be raffled, usually for charity or to raise money for the local footy (football) or cricket club (incredibly slow boring game) to get uniforms or to go to some state final or whatever. Anyway, the raffle is usually something like a meat tray done up by the local butcher. It would have steak, snags (sausages), rissoles, lamp chops – the usual barbie fare. Or it could be a seafood tray - prawns (shrimp) crabs, oysters, barramundi etc. Or a frozen chook or chooks. Yep – a couple of frozen chooks on a tray with a dozen eggs. It’s all a bit of a lark and light hearted fun. We’re not serious people but we are gamblers. Aussies we will bet the odds on anything. You have a raffle? We'll take a ticket or several – “$2 each or 3 for $5.00, love or if you buy ten I’ll give ya a kiss.” We love to take a chance on anything even the outcome of a frozen chook raffle.

Thigh High is out October 16th with Ellora’s Cave.

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Busting out..

I had cleavage issues at work today. It’s been most annoying. Why? Well, I don't want to look at or deal with my cleavage. Who would? But it's been ‘out there’ and I have spent all day trying to cover it. I have a habit of buying clothes too many sizes too large...yeah, it's stupid but there it is. Call it a throw back to the fat days…you never forget ‘em. Anyway, I had this top on that was loose – okay too big - but it never occurred to me that because it was larger that the neckline would be lower - hence the boobage issue. So it's been a day of pulling up fabric and placing a hand over the spillage when I’ve leant over. I can't concentrate with an expanse of cleavage in my face.

And, I'm actually blaming the boobage issue on forgetting to save part of the book I had written at work. All that fat white flesh pushed up and in was disconcerting to my gentle soul. I believe it blinded me and I lost consciousness for a moment and forgot to hit ‘save.’ Boobs - really what is the point of them? But I did learn two lessons. Buy a smaller size in clothes and no writer worth their salt forgets to hit save. And yes, I did spent several fruitless work hours – well, I’m sure the bosses would have wanted me to if they knew - searching the network to find what was lost. But it’s gone to god or some IT guy is wondering ‘what the hell is she doing to him and how can he do that without getting a cramp and are some women that bendy?’ Such is life. Boobs – they’re dangerous. Watch out for them and save, save, save.

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Okay…

…so my plan was to write, write, write, and finish my latest vampire book, until my fingers bled or I ran out of popcorn – either one – but then George happened. Le sigh. George Clooney. Yum-my – stick on a stick – and oh-my-god-he’s-just-plain-lovely-George. I swear he is even better than Tim Tams and I adore Tim Tams. Anyway a George Clooney movie came on TV – One Fine Day – yeah not a fabulous one but who cares as George was in it – and it was impossible to drag myself from the television. Why? Because it was George and he’s so damn watchable. Besides, I’m pretty sure I was watching George for research purposes anyway…yeah, sure…that’s it…uh huh…I was researching.

Yeah, you’re right. How someone looks is absolutely unimportant and I believe that whole-heartedly 99.9% of the time. But cut me some slack this is George Clooney. He is just one small weakness I have. Best friend Ethel and I often talk about men and we always say “Well, George wouldn’t do that.” - and - “Well hell no. George is George and by definition he is…well George and he’s pretty damn perfect.”

I defy any woman not to like George.

Bit of news…

...‘picked up a contract on my werewolf book and for all those who have emailed and asked where they can buy Male Me – thank you so much for your kind emails, interest and patience. Male Me will be back out shortly with Whiskey Creek Press Torrid.

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Man platters…

This is what I believe should happen - men should be offered to women in small portions on platters…you know like the ones in the deli that people invite you to sample from…and then you pick and chose bits and pieces to make up the best man for you. A bit of pastrami, a piece of cheddar, a kalamata olive or two, maybe a bit of sushi or a couple of banana prawns(shrimp) to chew on as you continue your selection from the man platter.

What am I on about? Well, I was talking to a couple of men today – both completely different in style and character – and I thought to myself ‘If I only could merge these two men together with another I know and this man would be doable for me.’

Man A was so nice – I mean really nice in that kind, gentle way. He cared deeply about others. He looked at me when I spoke and his eyes told me he was interested in everything I said. He also complimented the way I looked in a way that was so genuine and without guile that I had to stare hard at him for several seconds before I realized he meant it. What’s wrong with him then? Well, I’ll be honest, I was worried he was a little too nice especially when I came to Man B.

Man B was just that – all man - rough charm and roguish humour and when he looked at me I swore the elastic in my knickers broke in anticipation. He’s the sort that made me blush and it takes a lot for that to happen. Man B is funny yet tough as nails. You know he would kick a door down, without blinking, to get what he wanted. He’s also the sort of man you just know would be one hell of a ride but then what? The feeling I got was no stability. Do I want stability? Maybe…not sure…hence the platter.

There should be a man deli. I’m not talking about a meat market where men line up and you take a ride. I’m talking about a shop where you can pick and chose from a selection of platters the attributes you want in a man, then they create the man for you and you take him away with the proviso you can return him in 30 day as long as you have your receipt. I think it’s a good idea. Why settle for almost okay when you can sample what’s offer without obligation or heartache?

No, I’m not saying women are perfect…we’re damn close to it though.

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Shiver Me Timbers…

Violet Rose is stunned at the gift bequeathed to her by her aunt Zeta. Shiver me timbers, it’s a pirate! The hot and sexy swashbuckler makes his intentions clear. He wants Violet—and he’ll do anything she desires. Despite all the reasons she shouldn’t, Violet begins to fall in love with the charming rogue.

Pirate Nathaniel Dreadnought has been waiting two hundred years for his true love to release him from his lonely hell. The lovely and very sexy Violet is everything he wants in a woman. To win her love he will fight the fiends of hell.

But an old foe has been waiting for the awakening of Dreadnought, and he’ll stop at nothing to come between the two lovers.

I never actually set out to write a pirate book. It just happened. I came up with Violet and thought ‘what’s Violet’s story?’ She’s like women we all know – struggling, trying hard in life but getting nowhere fast – and then her Aunt dies and bequeaths her the strangest thing and Violet thinks “what the?” and “why me?”

I’m a great believer that things – even weird-what-the-hell-is-this-stuff - happens when you least expect it and even though you can’t work out why a new fresh hell is visiting you, there is always a reason and a lot of the time it turns out to be just what you need.

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Shiver Me is out today at Ellora's Cave. Click on the cover to buy.

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How cellulite saves…

I had a stack at the gym today. What is a ‘stack’? It’s Aussie for fall. I was with my trainer, the lovely and long suffering Hugh, and I doing this balancing thing. At the moment, for me, it’s all about strength training. I want to be kicking arse when I am 70…though I have actually only decided to live to 65. Why? Long story. Anyway...where was I? Oh yeah, so I was balancing on this thing…it’s shaped like a mushroom top. One side is hard plastic and the other is the curved surface of a rubber ball. That bit goes on the ground and you stand, albeit very bloody wobbly legged on the hard plastic. It’s like being drunk and wearing stiletto roller skates while balancing a pina colada on your nose.

Anyway there I was doing squats and lifting weights at the same time trying to balance on this wobbly bloody thing when I had my stack. I fell A over T – arse over tit - and landed in an ungraceful heap on my side, laughing hysterically. Hugh was just plain hysterical with concern as he raced over to me and dropped to the ground checking to see what I had broken. “Trouble, are you okay?” Yes, that’s what he calls me – “Trouble.” Isn’t he sweet? I call him “the man who cannot count” because when he says do 20 of something and I do 20 then he calls out that I’ve only done 5. Anyway I was fine. He wasn’t. I’ve never seen someone so worried. I said “it’s okay. I fell on my FFF.” No, nothing like the nitwit KKK. FFF is way more useful and sensible. What is it? Fat Flabby Flank.

Seriously, cellulite will save you every time and I don’t know why we fight it so much. I felt nothing as I hit the ground as cellulite cushioned my fall. I got straight up and spent the next twenty minutes assuring Hugh he was too young to have a nervous breakdown over clumsy clients. He said my problem is “you are too damn stubborn and think you can do everything.” Well duh…I can. You have to test your limits if you want anything out of life. You can’t just stay safe forever.

Cellulite – use it, embrace and fight the urge it get rid of it for it will save you when you least expect it.

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He said what???

A colleague in another office emailed me today and mentioned something that me so mad I could not let go what she said. She was very upset. Why? A male had made a totally inappropriate, obscene comment to her in relation to another woman. The comment made her so uncomfortable that she was worried about seeing or speaking to him again. This is a harassment and completely unacceptable.

She told no one but me. Some women never refer acts like this on to management due to fear. I've seen it before. They would rather avoid the person in question or live with the discomfort. That is so wrong. What has it got to do with me hearing it second hand? If something gets said to one woman that makes her uncomfortable or intimidated then that’s one woman too many. I believe women should look after each other in the workplace. Some men are just plain stupid and need to be reminded of their manners and their responsibilities when it comes to others. I don't doubt this man thought he was being funny but as we all know what is funny to you or I may be offensive to another.

I'll admit I sat and seethed at my desk for awhile. Then I emailed a wise, calm friend and said 'stop me from going over the edge if I am overreacting.' She rang me. She was also appalled and no, I wasn't getting worked up for no reason. What did I do? As the first response, I wrote the man in question an email. Yeah, I could have taken it to management in a heart beat but I wanted to give him a chance to understand what he had done. The email explained what I had been told, how I did not ever want to see a female colleague upset or uncomfortable and that his language was extremely inappropriate and that he needs to think about his audience before he speaks. I got no response. I expected none. What can you use as a defence? And yeah, I'll be watching what happens next.

If you are ever in a situation where you are placed in personal discomfort by another and you are scared to speak up - confide in a colleague because I doubt very much they will let in sit. Everyone has the right to a safe workplace free of harassment. Do not let anyone have the power to make you uncomfortable. You are worth so much more than that.

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Truth or Sex…

Okay, there’s this man and there’s this woman. They meet. The attraction is instant. He makes her laugh and feel like doing crazy things. She makes him feel strong and in control. He’s sweet and romantic. The way she cares about him makes him feel special. And the sex? Amazing. The hunger they feel for each other is so intense that all inhibition and caution is thrown to the wind. They just need to be together and they will do whatever they have to in order to touch. Is it love? What else can it be? They declare they want to be together forever.

Romance huh? It can be so amazing that it takes your breath away. If this was in a book or a film we’d all want them to get together because what they have is special. It’s the kind of love people crave. But there’s a problem. They’re married, No – not to each other. Yes…hmmm…so, my question to you is how romantic is cheating on a partner? If a romance writer presented the scenario above to you as her latest work what would you think about the hero and heroine now? Can you be romantic and unfaithful? Is this mad love they have still justifiable?

So, the gossip at work is, married to another X is sleeping with Y who has a wife. No biggie you say? People screw around all the time? Yeah they do. It’s no one’s business? No, it’s not. Gossip is evil? Probably – and for listening to it I’ll go to hell but my theory is as long as I know the consequences of my actions then there's no need to stress out when the gates of hell open up and suck me inside.

Back to X and Y who have this wild passion for each other - I understand people become unhappy in marriage. I understand you can be attracted to more than one person at any time and that someone can come along who is so amazing that you can barely think straight due to overpowering need. And yeah, maybe cheating and having an affair is exciting. I really do get all that – but – if you’re that unhappy or that overwhelmed with desire for another, shouldn’t you do the right thing and talk to your partner? If this new love is so important, isn’t loyalty to your old love just as important?

Passion is an amazing thing but I just wonder about the costs of such an intense liaison. Do you throw everything you have away for the lover you have found or do you keep the lover you already have? It’s just so bloody messy isn’t it? I guess it all comes down to what you will accept for yourself in life and what price you are willing to pay. Would it work in a romance book? I don’t believe so. Why? Because we want the fantasy. We’re prepared to read about the heroine fighting evil with the hero at her side trying to protect her but if he had a wife and she had a husband? Hmmm…I’m not sure we’d be so keen to see then jump into bed regardless how romantically it was written. Fantasy versus reality – choose your poison and prepare for the consequences.

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Cut, hack, slash...

I’ve been working really hard to get over an addiction. It’s not booze or drugs – it’s a person. It’s a man. He worked his way into my mind and heart so deeply that it scares me that I could be that stupid to have been suckered into falling for him in the first place. But that’s addictions for you. Have ‘sucker’ written on your forehead and an addiction latches on and it’s hard to shake.

I was reading my stars in the newspaper on Sunday and they said “to cut the person loose who is no good for you.” I agree so I’m hacking and cutting and slashing.

Addictions are a weakness. Everyone has one and no one is less of a person for succumbing, no matter how stupid they feel. We’re all dumb at some stage of our life…of course I never thought I would be quite this dumb but there it is. I am or I was – I am working hard to move on. Cut, hack, slash.

The problem with some addictions, you can’t remain friends with them. An alcoholic cannot have a casual sip and a junkie cannot have the odd hit. It’s the same with people addictions. Cut, hack, slash – move on.

To my addiction – stop it. We can’t be friends.

Cut, hack, slash.

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‘Got nothing much….

…other than I booked a trip to Darwin – the Never-Never. It’s up in the Northern Territory of Australia. Its home to Kakadu (Crocodile Dundee country) and Uluru (Ayres Rock). Why Darwin? Not sure. I just have this intense urge to go there and I always believe in following urges like this. Mind you, I’m not going until March. Why March? I looked at a calendar and March jumped out at me. For some reason I know I’m supposed to be in Darwin in March – and who am I to question the workings of kismet?

‘Got this though…

BREAD, cling wrap and chicken skin are being used as contraceptives by UK women, which may explain why it has the highest accidental pregnancy rate in Europe.

http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,26035229-5013016,00.html

Okay, it’s not funny - but it is. Bread? Seriously? What nong would believe that? When I read this I thought of the reader emails I get asking me ‘why so many condoms’ in my books? Imagine how hard it would be to make using bread sexy in a book. What would the foreplay be like? She grabs the loaf tight to her naked breasts, drops her head down and tears a piece of bread off with her teeth, her eyes lock with his and she says, in between mouthfuls, “Do I need a half a slice or a full slice with you, big boy?” Or does he run a crusty baguette up and down her soft inner thighs and say, “Do you know what I’m going to do with this, darlin’?’" And she says “Not without butter and vegemite you’re not.”

This is what I think…safe sex is smart sex. Use the condom not bread. Bread is for toast and sandwiches. Don’t use it anywhere else.

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If Prince Charming….

…showed up at my door right now with a glass slipper for me to try on ‘cause he knew I was ‘the one’ and he wanted to share his heart and kingdom with me, I’d tell him to rack off. Why? I’m just not into romance at the moment. Sure, okay, yes, maybe for a moment I would probably hesitate at the offer of the kingdom deal but it would not be enough to sway me. Why? I don’t trust romance and I don’t trust men.

Yes, it’s probably not the thing to announce when you’re a romance writer but there it is. I’m having a hard time getting my hero and heroine together because she’s looking at him suspiciously and thinking ‘I just know you’re lying your arse off to sleep with me and I don’t think you’re worth the heartache’ and he’s confused because ‘isn’t this supposed to be a romance book I’m in?’ Yes, it is Mr Hero-type-person and shut up. Huh…men.

I believe when you write, as in anything, you throw life experience into your books. The things I have done in my books are things I have lived…maybe not with such gymnastic prowess – okay no where near it - but it’s my life. At the moment I am just so distrustful of men and in turn myself when it comes to them that I keep staring at blank pages and thinking maybe I’ll have the heroine take a vow of celibacy or something. While it’s great to have lots of books half written needing so little to be finished, it’s hard to write love and passion and romance when you just know the heroine would be so much better off without the hero. Maybe she could get a dog or a duck or an iguana for company. I feel, unlike men, you’d always know where you stood with an iguana.

I’m sure sometime soon I’ll get over this jaded funk I am in but until then does anyone know any reputable iguana suppliers?

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Tattoo Two…

I went to the tattoo parlour and dropped my strides (jeans) and showed off my upper thigh for inspection of my two week old tatt. It's a health regulation thing they follow and I'm happy to do that and my fat white thigh is hardly going to scare them considering they have seen it before and they are no strangers to inking various body parts – some more scary than mine.

I'm also going to get another tatt. Yes, I always suspected I would get two. Now I know it's an easy, not painful - to me - process I'm going for a black rose with long twirly bits on my left shoulder. I’m sure ‘twirly bits’ is not the technical term but I handed Jason, the tattoo artist, a vague picture of what I wanted and then explained what I wanted to add to it and have changed. He’s a smart man. He understood straight away. I like tattoo artists. There is no bullshit with them.

Now, I’m not advocating anyone racing out to get a tatt. It's a big decision by virtue of the fact you will have it for life. You will see it everyday. You have to like it. You really have to think about it. At 45, I am the mistress of my own half-arsed destiny. I work on the principle it's my body and I can do whatever I like with it. I answer to no one - and in theory that's how it should be for everyone. However not everyone is as fortunate as I - but that goes back to the choices you make in life and what you do for yourself as opposed to what others require or expect of you.

I was talking to a colleague who said to me she was looking forward to her next tatt as it made her feel happy. Strangely enough, I do understand this. To me it's not so much happiness it's more of being in control of who you are and what you want without worrying what another soul will think about it. I like to think of it as “marking your territory” meaning everything you see is mine and makes me the person that I am and if you do not like that purely for who I am and what you see then move on for I do not need you.

I mentioned to my 75 year old father I was getting another tatt. He said "Get death before dishonour” apparently this was big when he was in Vietnam in the 1960’s. Hmmm...I don’t think so.

‘Want a tatt? Think about it. Research and ask lots of annoying questions - it is after all - for life.

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Pedophilia…

A Saudi Arabian father forced his 10-year-old daughter to return to her 80-year-old husband Sunday, after she was found hiding at the home of her aunt for 10 days, Arab News reported.

"My marriage is not against Sharia. It included the elements of acceptance and response by the father of the bride,” he told a local newspaper.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,543060,00.html?loomia_ow=t0:s0:a16:g2:r1:c0.088195:b27368278:z0

This absolutely sickens me. A ten year old child runs away to be safe with her aunt and an archaic law forces her back to her 80 year ‘husband’ to be molested. If it happened in the western world we’d call it paedophilia. We would be appalled and outraged and demand the child be allowed home to live like any other 10 year old kid. Do we care if it’s a scared kid far away that we can’t see and isn’t from our nation? I’m beginning to think not. I think we prefer to turn our heads and not get involved. Ask a lot of people and the response will is “well, it’s their religion and I don’t want to get involved.” What if tomorrow, as a mother, your ten year old daughter, not even at puberty, was forced to marry an old lecherous man – and yeah I’m calling him lecherous because no man with honour, class or dignity marries a child and uses religion as an excuse – would you allow that? Hell no. Yet think of all the little girls whose lives are stolen from them.

I don’t care what religion you are. Believe what you like as long as you do no evil to another. Old disgusting men marrying and ruining young girls is evil. It’s not religion. It’s paedophilia. Saudi Arabia and countries that perpetuate these male favoured arsehole laws need to be brought in justice. Will that happen? Not likely because Saudi Arabia is oil rich and an ally and as long as the balance of world power is held by men this will continue to happen.

What can we do? Talk about it. Tell others. Post it on your blogs, facebooks and everywhere else. Make it an issue. Don’t say it’s too hard or it’s not ‘my concern’. Every young girl that is molested in the name of religion is my concern and your concern.

Saudi Arabia your laws in the name of religion are inhumane and paedophilic.

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Been thinking about stuff...

….dreadful habit I have but I like it. Back tomorrow.

“Thoughts lead on to purpose, purpose leads on to actions, actions form habits, habits decide character, and character fixes our destiny” -- Tryon Edwards

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Care factor?

I was at the bank doing the corporate banking thing and waiting for one of the tellers to become free. They were dealing with this customer who was overdrawn on his bank account and it was the banks fault - apparently. I'm not sure how it was their fault that he had used up all his money but he was yelling and screaming and carrying on like a pork chop (Aussie for madman). The tellers just stood there and didn’t react. They were calm, pleasant and polite even as his words became more aggressive. If you listened to him, he declared loudly that he had half a million dollars he could lay his hands on in an instant. He also had a platinum credit card. What is it with people who have to tell you they were dumb enough to pay membership fees to a credit card company in order to get a ‘platinum card’? It’s still plastic and no more special than my standard navy blue card – no membership fee – that works just as well. Of course the question is why didn’t this dipstick use this sum of money or his pretty card to save himself from getting overdrawn? Now, if it had of been me fronting him I would have asked that. But that’s me. I like to query inane statements. In the end he stormed out of the bank 'never to return' as he was 'closing' all his accounts...which to me sounded like a moot point due to the whole overdrawn – no money thing. He looked at us in the queue as if to say 'I told them'. I think he wanted us to congratulate him. I looked back at him like he was a nong and favoured him with an eye roll. That’s the best I can do with nongs. They deserve no more.

‘Got an issue with a service provider? Then by all means complain. It's your right as a consumer. But I have to tell you, having worked in customer service, in the past for a long time, a good customer service rep will not flinch or react to whatever insult you throw at them or their company. Why? Because they don’t give a crap. They're there to get paid and you can scream yourself silly and they will tow the company line or spout off policy they don’t particularly believe in in order to make the next house payment or pay off the electricity bill. It’s a job. It’s not their life and if you want to beat your chest, stamp your feet and go red in the face to prove some point then go ahead. It will be good gossip over a lunch break or at the staff Christmas party when they play back the security tapes. Screaming is pointless. The front of house people – or the cannon fodder - have no power. So, leave ‘em alone. Give ‘em a break. Go for the manager. They get paid a lot more to put up with crap and they usually have a fancy badge to prove it. Make ‘em work for their title.

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Just another...

…one foot in front of the other watch we’re you’re stepping kind of day. Have a good one.

I might repeat to myself slowly and soothingly, a list of quotations beautiful from minds profound - if I can remember any of the damn things ~ Dorothy Parker.

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Man versus erotica….

I thought I would delve once more into my interview files as I got a lot of emails about the blog on players yesterday. I was sadly surprised how many women had been played thinking they were getting the whole happily ever after deal. Men – strange yet fascinating creatures…

So why do men think women read erotica?

I think that women read erotica because they are in control of the situation when they are reading it. I suppose that when it comes down to the practicality of it they can quite readily lose control of the situation if they are speaking to a man like that. If it were you saying that to a man who was lying on the bed I would venture that that would stimulate him more and potentially leave you in an extremely vulnerable and potentially dangerous situation. Reading accomplishes the titillation aspect without the presence of a man. Well structured erotica will not get them raped at that time.

What can't men give women?

SOME men are unable to excite a woman with just words and rely on a kiss on the lips, three on the neck, a quick lick of the nipple, a squeeze on the breast and then go for it style of foreplay. Those that know how successful the foreplay can be when structured correctly are more likely to be invited back for a continuance. The romance factor shouldn't be underplayed.

Are women being realistic?

Women aren't being unrealistic. Perhaps they are collectively saying that these enlightened times should provide more mental satisfaction for them as opposed to the physical satisfaction demanded by the male – and fair enough.

Should women just take what they want?

I really enjoy it when I am 'taken' by a woman who is just horny and wants a root* - nothing else. It’s somewhat satisfying. Interestingly it opens a view as to what the woman may feel like if the roles were reversed and she is just used for the physical satisfaction of the male. It's an interesting paradox / quandary. Not many men would say “no, stop.” But it takes a strong man to NOT take control of the situation and just let the woman go for it.

Interesting quote… “But it takes a strong man to NOT take control of the situation and just let the woman go for it.”

*root = slang word for sex.

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I love you...for sex....

'Just been going through my interview notes with various people. A while ago I was doing some research for a book and I came across a player. What’s a player? Basically they are men who use charm to feed on the needs and emotions of a woman in order to get her into bed. They ‘love’ women but I don’t believe they ‘like’ them enough to be honest. The good ones rarely make apologies for it because they see it as part of the ‘game’ or the ‘chase.’ Are they bad people? No. I believe they are lonely people who have no idea what they want out of life and they need the notches recorded on the bedpost to justify who they are in life. Kind of sad really.

The interview....

1. Is the profiling thing when you first meet a woman to learn about her quickly and to target those things that are useful to get her into bed quickly?

In some instances the profiling thing works well in my favour to find out things that may be of some interest and advantageous in the chase. In any other situation it's nice to know things about people just to be friends with them.

2. Is there a time limit from meeting to sex that a player sets?

All things are useful in time. It may take 20 minutes or it may take 5 years of constant work.

3. Has a woman ever worked it out and said bugger off?

Not many

4. Is it always successful?

Generally

5. Do you think women subconsciously like players? That it makes them feel more attractive that a player targets them

Women ( and men ) like to feel attractive to the opposite sex. As previously said - attraction is not always about the face and body and I can be very attracted to someone's mind and personality. The need to feel wanted is strong in both sexes and if a woman ( or man ) is not currently in that situation then 'being there' can always be advantageous. Particularly if you have 'been there' to listen and talk to for some time.

6. Is it an embuggerance when a woman falls in love with a player? How quickly can you extract yourself from that situation?

Extraction??? Do I always want to be extracted? Sometimes it's just what I wanted to happen. I did have a friend who became overly attached to me - more than I reckoned - but I was the crutch that she needed at the time just to get through all the other shit that was happening to her at the time. Who knows?

7. Does a player get pissed off when a woman says no or is that just part of ‘the job’?

Ever heard of a dog chasing a car? Sometimes the chase occurs with no result - but I do find extreme pleasure in just having met someone and getting to know them and sharing things etc.

How do you recognize a player? It’s that old adage of if it sounds too good to be true then it is.

****On a lighter note…this made me laugh my arse off…apparently Amarinda Jones is shagging Snape...who told? Thanks mate - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5324748/1/Oh_shit

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I’m much worse off than you….

There was a major spak out at work today. Spak out = it’s when people get hysterically angry – and in this case about nothing. We got a new phone system installed and it was like people felt they were being asked to fly the space shuttle blindfolded with a spoon shoved up their arse. It’s a phone, people. You pick it up when it rings. You dial ‘0’ to get out. Get a frigging grip.

The major problem was that everyone felt they were ‘more busy than everyone else’ to deal with a new phone system. Like the Monty Python skit above, everyone’s reasons kept get more and more dramatic by the second. Of course they were all talking bollocks. Have you ever noticed how people will always try to one up another in the hardship stakes? I have to ask why? Do they get something out of it? Is it pity people are after? Or are some people too pigging lazy to do stuff therefore they need an excuse? Well, if that’s the case I say try and make up a better one as the reasons for being the most hard done by in the office were a load of piss weak excuses.

Where have all the tough people gone who could deal with ‘terrible’ things like new phones? Are we, as a world becoming weaker and more whiny or as it a case the whiny have always been amongst us? In reality when you look at the crapfests some people deal with – gender inequality, extreme poverty, sexual abuse, child abuse – I think a lot of us are doing pretty damn good and if a phone can upset us then maybe a good dose of walking in someone else’s shoes would work.

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Green – it’s bloody everywhere…

- grass is green – and when I say ‘grass’ I mean lawn and not marijuana ‘cause it’s not always green…I think it depends on supplier.

- frogs are green – okay – not always – the ones in my garden are but that’s Brisbane and they’re probably a different colour elsewhere
- slime is green – slime is not good. Actually I think kryptonite is green too but I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. Superman would probably have issues with it. If you are reading this Superman please advise on colour and goodness factor.
- I often wear emerald nail polish because it goes nicely with black and it freaks people out.
- The army wears green. As an ex-army brat I do know, on an army base, if you stand still too long you will be painted green. Moral of the story? Keep moving on an army base.
- Four leaf clovers are green. I bought a dodgy (fake) one when I was in Ireland years ago. I expect one day it will be lucky…or not.
- Leprechauns are usually dressed in green…I’m not sure if they prefer that colour or if it’s a stereotypical, racially based generalization. Maybe they’re sick of green. Maybe they would prefer to wear puce.
- Emeralds – unlucky for some – are green. I’ll take my chances.
- Pickles are green – I know this as when I worked at Maccas (McDonalds) as a teenager – people would pull them off the burger and stick ‘em on the fake forest scene on the wall. They’re hard to see stuck on fake trees.
- Apples can be green though to be honest I prefer red apples.
- Some snakes are green but who cares ‘cause snakes are pukeable.
- My environmental bags, which I keep forgetting to take when I grocery shopping, are green.
- My wheely bin (trash can) is green. The other one for recyclables is yellow – yeah, I know – who cares.

So green – it’s all around us. Why? Stuffed if I know. It just is. Why the green thing? I said I would….so why not?

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Talk dirty to me…

I was writing madly away at my job on my latest book…okay, so yeah, writing is not technically work I am paid for at that location but I feel as I’m at work I may as well do anything I deem ‘work.’ Writing erotica is work to me as my actual paid job is work so both are interchangeable and doable in my job. Yeah, I know it wouldn’t stand up in court but I’d still argue it…anyway, I was writing this dialogue that was pretty damn dirty to suit a particular situation between the two lovers – nah, no one has ever sprung me (caught me out) at work writing - and I thought ‘boy oh boy you have a mouth on you Amarinda. That’s terrible…sexy but terrible.’ I felt bad about my behaviour for maybe all of 4 seconds but I got over it and kept writing.

Other erotic romance writers, I’m sure, will agree that when you write erotica words come out of your mouth that you would not even think of saying usually. Okay, I might, but I would hesitate for a moment depending on the audience. And, it’s actually a lot of fun to say all these normally vulgar words in a sexual setting between your two characters. It’s like when you’re flirting or with your lover. Its part of the whole fun of sex and letting someone know in graphic terms just what you plan to do to them to make them hot and wild. It’s letting inhibitions go and being yourself for a crazy moment. I reckon that’s pretty powerful being able to do that with another human being. Okay, yes, sure, maybe you’re all more sedate than me. Maybe I’m the only naughty one who says terrible things. I suspect not…

So why do you think people get off on saying all these sexually explicit words to entice, tease and make you giggle…yeah, some make me laugh because I can imagine the looks you would get if you said them in normal conversation. You want to do what? I tend to think it’s the freedom to be a little mad, a little bad and let go of all hang-ups and just go a little crazy with your lover. So, it’s kind of fun writing it and reading it. A little mad’s not a bad thing is it? I think not…

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Sexual consultation…

A lovely, helpful lady from the tax department rang me today at work - see the previous blog - Monday's - about my email to them about getting a gigolo/male escort for research reasons. She confirmed to me this was not the oddest question they had ever had and she didn't find it strange at all. I used to work for the government. I know what weird crap they deal with. You have to be pretty broadminded to deal with the public in any official capacity. Anyway she explained there was a form to fill out and send back and the tax office would make a ruling about the male escort as a “consultant” thing for a writer. You know you can do almost anything in life as long as you have the right form. We chatted on what I would use his knowledge for. I believe I made her day.

So that was fun and somewhat disappointing I did not freak the tax department out but I’ll work on that. I’m almost positive I can confuse them. Second highlight of the day – I ordered a 2010 Queensland Firefighters Calendar last week – for charitable reasons of course - and I had been waiting for it to arrive in the mail. I wanted it yesterday as I had endured a crapacious day and I felt looking at lovely ‘quiet’ male bodies would be soothing to the soul - but it didn’t arrive. Bugger. I almost got back into the car yesterday to drive around to the local fire station and demand they take off their shirts but occasionally I can be rational and voila – the calendar was awaiting me when I got home today. Niiiiice….or Noice – in Aussie speak.

May your day be as interesting…

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