Pretty bloody simple to me.

So I was at Bunnings (huge hardware chain store for the non-Aussies among us) in my lunch hour looking at wood. Yes, exciting stuff. Not. Anyway, my eye caught this large pile of metal thingies stacked up against a back wall that were marked down in price. Genetically, I was drawn to the markdown sign so I wandered over and saw these deliberately rusted, to make the metal look old and interesting, panels that were to be used as a ‘feature’ in the garden. Cut into the metal was a continuous pattern of tulips. They had been marked down from $130 to just $30. I suspect because people kept thinking ‘well they’re rusty – I don’t want to buy those if they’re falling apart.’ I lifted one up with one hand, while balancing a bag of mulch between my feet and a handful of hooks and my mobile phone in the other, and this rusted thingy was bloody heavy.

Now my question is – who the bloody hell comes up with these ideas to deliberately rust sheets of heavy arsed metal and then sell it at a huge price in a economy where most people are trying concentrate on essentials and fripperies are low on the list? And, why even marked down were they not selling? Did any cost analysis go into the rusted thingys at all? And why make them so freaking heavy that to hold it up would require huge hooks or a frame that would in turn cost the buyer more? And why put them in what’s effectively a hardware chain store? And, why have a tag on them indicating if you don’t want them to look rusted then sand the worst of the rust off, paint it with rust killer and then a metal primer then paint over those coats to seal it well. Who the hell has time to do that? Garden panels are supposed to make your life easier. And think of the cost to manufacture fake rusted crap.

Trendy-arsed, new age, let’s-all-contemplate-our-zen-crystal-pierced-navels-over-a-soy-moccachino-iced-juniper-berry-latte designers have no bloody idea what real people like, or think or want. Why not just give people bare metal for $15 and say put it out in the rain if you want rust or paint it if you don’t. Pretty bloody simple to me.

Cherry Ripe....out now

Cherry Ripe - part of the Dirty, Sexy, Yours series is out now - click here to take a squiz - http://secretcravingspublishing.mybigcommerce.com/products/Cherry-Ripe-%28Dirty%2C-Sexy%2C-Yours%29.html

Yes, it's another cover with a nipple on it...

The blurb

When the lights go out Cherry gets to meet the sexy new neighbor she’s been lusting over from afar. Making out with the hot guy is better than reading a book with her pet tortoise. But what of the characters in the story? Can they put their lives on hold long enough for her to have an orgasm?

Mick is more than happy to take Cherry on the ride of her life. She is ripe for the picking and he wants on and in the lady. He can think of lots of sexy and dirty things to do to her in the dark. Her book can wait.

And what of storybook couple Constance and Jethro running for their lives? Can they outrun the madman with an axe? Is the strong physical attraction they have for each other based on fear or lust? Can they stay alive long enough to find out?

Pukeable Monday...

A day in the life..

So, I have one of those annoying sneezy colds that make you want to shove tissues up your nose to plug it up from running. Anyway, undaunted and a woman on a mission I went to the local humongous hardware store in search of paving blocks. I wanted twenty. When I stood before the black ones I wanted, sneezing all over them – almost like marking my territory – I decided I would get ten. Although I’m normally a freaking Wonder Woman, I decided 20 in a trolley would be impossible cause they were heavy as all get out. So I got 9 in – and the last one? I dropped. Now these suckers are concrete and when the hit concrete they break...a lot…It’s one of those moments in your life where you either – A- report what you have done and pay the consequences or B – look innocent and grab another block as you kick the remnants under the shelf. I went for door number B because I figured as I had a cold, I was suffering enough and my actions were justified.

When I got home I dragged 9 of the 10 out of Patrick, my long suffering car, and shoved them where I wanted a path. The 10th one, in an almost karmic moment, I dropped. It smashed. I swore a good deal in between sneezes. But on the bright side, I really only needed 9 black ones and now all I have to do is get 9 red ones. There’s always a reason to everything.

Raw need…

Raw Amarinda Jones

Possibly the most “shocking” story in the collection, this story incorporates the main female character with up to five men. There is plenty of violence as well as oral sex, sex in public, and plenty of voyeurism. There is also one scene that includes some M/M interaction. This story has lots of sex and lets the reader know how Poppy is feeling when faced with the multiple sexual opportunities she is given. Not for the faint of heart, but worth reading at least once.

http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2011/05/indecent-encounters-menage-anthology.html?zx=eaaaed37947623ca

I got this review through my inbox. My story was one of several in an anthology called Indecent Encounters. Buy it here ~ http://www.evernightpublishing.com/products/Indecent-Encounters.html from Evernight Publishing. I like the review. It was honest, straightforward and non gushy. The reviewer pegged my story exactly right. It was all that. Indecent. Out there. Raw.

So, what is it women want in a story? At the moment, it seems to be multiple men. Why is that? Ménage is selling like wildfire. Is the romance of one partner not enough? Why are wild, off, the wall anthologies like Indecent Encounters even made and why are they so popular especially in a world where the majority of people – no, it may not be you – are very careful about sex and crave the deep commitment of one person who really understands them and if sex was taken out of the relationship it would still endure because that deep love it there. Or are we just wanting to bust loose and get down and dirty with a bunch of men for a wild ride? Is the only way to give into this raw need by reading dirty, scandalous books?

I tend to believe we like to have our careful vanilla worlds jolted every so often with the extreme. I’m just not sure why in the majority of ménage books it always seems to be 4 men and one woman…why 4? One was for morning, lunchtime, afternoon and maybe one for a midnight snack?

The killing fields…

So, I have made a decision. I have to kill the cane toads I see hopping around my yard. It’s taken me a while to reach this decision because I only believe in killing something if it is trying to kill me or mine. Then you’re dead. No discussion.

Cane toads are an ecological pest. They screw up the environment and kill off the native frogs. They were introduced to Queensland, Australia by some nitwit who thought it sounded like a good idea to kill a cane beetle. Yep, the toads killed it but they stuck around and had lots of sex and became the menace they are today. There’s a lesson in that. Don’t have sex…no, that’s not it…er… it’s anyone who has a good idea should be viewed with suspicion…hmmm…ok, maybe that’s not it either but you get my drift. Cane toads are bad buggers.

So, now that I am in the tropics I have decided XH, my house, will become a killing field. I spoke to a very good frog loving friend and toad assassin extraordinaire about the brutal regime I am going to conduct on toads. His cool Chuck Norris response was along the line of ‘about bloody time’ and my house is on ‘Toadbook’ as a safe haven for toads. Well, not any more, fella. I have bought disinfectant and put it a spray bottle and I’m gonna’ go out gunning for toads. You can also freeze them to death but that involves picking them up and putting them in a bag in the freezer and I’m too much of a girly girl to do that. Besides, I microwave food a lot…

So I asked my friend ‘Oh noble frog Sensei, how do I know a frog from a toad?’ The answer is toads look more ‘arrogant’ and they have bumps on their back, so I have to assess the pompous look in their eyes and the smug way their standing and them shoot him with disinfectant…the toad…not the sensei….

Initiate emergency shut down procedure…

So, I’m at work minding my own business, cruising the internet…I mean hard at work on stuff that I do when the mood takes me…when the GM emails me from his office which is oh, gee, probably ten paces away and emails ‘we need to initiate emergency shut down procedure. Please ring X now and walk him through it.' My first immediate gut reaction was ‘we have an emergency shut down procedure????’ Next thing I get an email with half the world cc’d on it saying ‘Amarinda will talk them through the emergency shutdown procedure.’ Now, I can talk with a mouth full of marbles while under water but WTF is this emergency stuff and why would I know? I’m not paid to be knowledgeable. I emailed back ‘I have no idea what it is. Sorry, can’t help.’

The GM then emailed back ‘You can do it.’ I think it was like a pep talk. I emailed back ‘no, really, I have no bloody idea whatsoever what you are talking about and if this is an emergency I would think emailing back and forth isn’t helping.’ So, he came out of his office and looked at me. I looked at him. He then said, ‘Well, I guess I’ll have to go find the emergency shutdown procedure and read it to them.’ I nodded and said, ‘Yeah, might be an idea.’

Twenty minutes later, emergency shut down procedure was initiated 10-4 over and out. The GM said 'do you want me to explain what it is?’ I indicated that it sounded like something a high level executive should have knowledge of. It sounded better than ‘oh god no, I’m not paid enough for that.'

The moral of this story is don’t rely on anyone in my workplace to initiate anything other than ordering food in, making coffee or knocking off bang on 5pm.

Commitment issues...

After a great deal of decision and almost after buying a cranky looking cat, I have decided that I cannot possibly own a pet. In essence, I’m a selfish, non-committing-to-any-relationship sod who likes to live alone and pick up at a moments notice and piss off into the wild blue yonder without considering if the cat/dog/ferret/antelope has been fed or wonders where I am. So there. I am pathetic. I admit it. I am, however, considering investing in a sock puppet as a pet….just worried about the commitment issues with it…

Gut instinct....

A hell of a lot of people read this post…thank you for that…

http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/2011/05/liar-liar-pants-on-fire.html

…but only one person commented. That’s ok. I don’t expect comments. Few people do to controversial subjects and I get that many choose not to put their name to things for fear of whatever.

One thing Spookie said stuck in my mind for a while…

Spookie said…

No, it's not rocket science. I received an email tonight with an excuse why royalties will be late . . . again. I think somebody needs to educate these people of the value of backup personnel and redundant systems.

There is no excuse for late royalty payments. NONE. NONE.

Word of advise to the many authors who have/are contemplating becoming publishers. PAY YOUR AUTHORS. ON TIME. EVERY MONTH.
21 May 2011 1:19 PM

Fair comment. Brave comment. Only one thing I would disagree on. Pay every month? Not realistic. Why? Two reasons. Only e-book publishing companies who have a solid customer base – and there’s not many of them left now – can afford to pay every month. If you have a business when the money comes direct to you and not through a third party then monthly is achievable because there is no middle man. However, most book sales for e-pubs are handled by third parties. E-pubs have to rely on them to get the money. However, in saying that, a genuine, honest e-pub who is waiting on funds from a third party can and should be able to supply to you in writing a count of how many books you have sold and for what period. If they can’t then ask why not.

As for – “I think somebody needs to educate these people of the value of backup personnel and redundant systems” – snake oil sellers don’t care if anyone else is happy and trying to educate greedy people is like trying to nail jelly to a wall.

Authors beware – read, research, ask questions of other authors and then make a judgement based on gut instinct. And remember, self publishing is absolutely possible so be brave and rely on yourself.

On zombie watch...

Liar, liar pants on fire…

The most asked question of me as a writer? What is my inspiration? Finding myself alive every morning. Do I suffer for my art? Oh, fuck no. Do I have a muse? Oh, double fuck no. Actually the most asked question is from others writers and it’s about publishers paying royalties on time and did I get my payment because they didn’t.

E-book publishers? I reckon probably 2 out of 5 you can trust. Generally, from my experience they’re a dodgy bunch who rob Peter to pay Paul in an effort to tide themselves over to the next month and they blithely think the author won’t notice any slipshod behaviour because the author is so grateful to be published. Bollocks. Like anyone who works for a living a writer expects to be paid on time and the correct amount. That ain’t got nothing to do with gratitude especially in a market where many e-book publishing houses are going hungry for new releases because they have a bad name.

Now to me, alienating writers due to sloppy or non existent royalty payments begs the question – how do you run a successful business if you treat the merchandise and suppliers like crap? Answer is - you don’t. There are a lot of publishers who trade on past glory with very little stock. The solution? Pay your writers on time and the right amount or expect a revolt. It’s not rocket science.

I cannot be the only person on the planet who when they stay in hotel rooms takes the teeny weeny containers of shampoo, lotion etc. A friend of mine thinks this is odd. I need these things for my gym bag and having worked as a chambermaid in hotels I know for a fact they expect you to take them as they’re classed as shrinkage. Now, I don’t know about you but I don’t want to let their expectations down and not take them...now that would be wrong.

Random thought #26590

“Whatever makes you happy sets you free…”

I’ve been thinking about this concept and I’m not so sure it does set you free. I think that which makes us happy also enslaves us to the point where we need it in our lives and we have the ability to lose a part of ourselves trying to maintain that need. But then if you don’t need and want, what do you have? Emptiness? A tightly controlled life with no fear, thrill or fun? How much of yourself can you afford to giveaway and remain you?

Just a random Wednesday thought…

Things that make you go hmmmm...

Last night I had the weirdest multitude of freaky, crazy, WTF dreams that I seriously had to wonder if my yoghurt had been spiked with wacky weed. Supposedly it’s my subconscious trying to tell me something important and that appears to do with Mexico, rain, a talking parrot, a complicated man, knees, a box, car parking, flowers, a telephone that doesn’t work, a broken pen, a narrow corridor, a towel and an elevator with purple carpet. So, taking all that on board and combining that with years of my own hard won wisdom and experience, I have come to the thoughtful conclusion that I probably won’t sleep tonight.

The romance of the unobtainable man…

I’ve been watching the latest series of Dr Who. I used to watch this show as a kid and it’s only just now that I’ve gone back – long story to do with TV reception. Anyway, it occurred to me, now years later, marginally wiser, slightly taller yet still with the same crooked lips, that the charm of Dr Who is he’s unobtainable and you have to take in all of him that you can before he leaves. If you don’t know the history of Dr Who he’s a time lord who regenerates and evolves into other Dr Who’s and fights time, aliens and himself. The current Dr is number 11.

Dr Who, Matt Smith, fascinates me. He’s a quirky crack up but he has that romantic edge of the unobtainable man about him. I believe there’s something about that which appeals to women. Unobtainable men. They’re the ones you always want the heroine to fall in love with but there’s something so deep and dark inside the man that you also know it probably will never happen and the heroine will get on with her life, heartbroken yet stronger for it. It’s a great, angst filled, edgy romantic concept and we don’t write enough of it. Why? Because traditionally we’ve been brought up to believe in the happily ever after and I think that’s a shame because life is so rarely happily ever after and we as a society set people up to be less than perfect if they didn’t get the man or they lost the man – ‘what’s wrong with her? He left her behind.’ Yet, I believe there’s something deeper, more intense when great loves or can-never-have-lovers part.

Dr Who? Give me the unobtainable man any day…

Basic instinct....

Rarely would I quote Donald Trump but he's right.....

“Experience taught me a few things. One is to listen to your gut, no matter how good something sounds on paper. The second is that you're generally better off sticking with what you know. And the third is that sometimes your best investments are the ones you don't make.”

Exacty. People. Life. Situations. Go with your first gut instinct and move away if it's not right for you. In the end, it's all about trusting yourself. Tomorrow I shall do that.

Old book - previously published with another mob until I took it back...

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lustintime-548669-141.html

Stepping on my soapbox…again…

I was at the gym yesterday morning getting changed after working out…sounds impressive...but it’s just me sweating and groaning…and there was this young woman of about 16 changing to go to school. She walked back and forth to the mirror and kept looking at herself. Finally she turned to me and said ‘that’s the best I can do.’ I asked ‘the best about what?’ She said about how she looks and then went on to explain the pressure to look good in high school. This is what was worrying her. Remember when we used to go to high school to learn stuff? Oh sure there were always the absolute little jumped up cows who always thought they were better than anyone else but never for one second did I worry how I looked. Maybe that was due to my upbringing and a realistic mother who made me realize that while I was plain I also had a fast mind and a smart mouth and they outlived beauty any day.

I said to this young woman, “I would have killed to look as good as you in high school.” As I said to a good friend immediately afterward, who I vented with over this, the smile she gave me was dazzling. Ok, maybe it gave her a small amount of confidence but why the hell should girls have to feel this ridiculous pressure to be perceived as beautiful or whatever the hell society is trying to make them worry themselves sick over to achieve? What the hell do we want from younger people? Be good and smart and try or just worry yourself sick over being pretty enough? It’s fucking wrong.

Anyway, we went on to discuss my striped knee socks and scarlet python Doc Marten boots and I hope like hell she had a good day at school. Beauty is a myth. The reality is your thoughts make you who you are and we need, as a society, to value caring, intelligence and humanity over bloody lipstick and fashion labels.

Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many. ~Author Unknown

The aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to throw a snowball. ~Doug Larson

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. ~Mark Twain

Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. ~Samuel Ullman

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair. ~Douglas MacArthur

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional. ~Chili Davis

Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone. ~Jim Fiebig

Well, exactly...

A shameless Aussie moment...

Aussie writer - Angela Castle - check her out. Why? Well, because she's an Aussie and we're all amazing...

Dangerous Moonlight ~ Angela Castle

Excerpt ~ beware there is thrusting...

“Aaaaahhhhhh. Oh God that feels good! Don’t stop!”
If Neman had a choice, he never would. He slammed his thick cock into the woman’s willing body over and over. At no time in all his existence had a woman felt so good around him. Every lush, pale curve, every dip and hollow of her body was a potent aphrodisiac that even the gods themselves could not duplicate. Bending down, taking a full, dusty pink nipple into his mouth, he sucked in time with his fierce thrusts. She curled her legs around him and tilted her hips to take more of him. Neman responded by pushing her legs higher, angling his hips to hit home deeper within her.
It wasn’t like Neman to take advantage of an intoxicated potential victim of a Gorlon Kat demon—so what the hell was wrong with him for doing just that? And why, in all his existence, did it feel so right…?

Fifteen minutes earlier…

Neman thought her totally mad when he found her in the alleyway, trying to befriend the creature from the Lower Realms. It was stalking toward her; its red glowing eyes would have alerted any sane person to the fact that this was not an alley cat. With a distorted black body twisting on its four deadly claws, its thickly muscled form was like that of a large jaguar.
“Heeerrre kitty, kitty, come to Mummy."
Her slurred words alerted him to her drunken state. He had been tracking this demon across several different continents after it had viciously killed a string of middle-aged women. Neman jumped from the roof of the tavern building—a two-story drop—and landed directly in the demon's path, drawing his lightweight, custom-made scimitar.
“Crikey, it’s raining men!” the woman said from behind him.
Neman didn’t have time to deal with her; he never took his eyes off the demon. It hissed, turned its back on him, crouched low and then leapt up over the tavern wall. Neman was about to give chase when the woman stepped up behind him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his long black leather coat.
“Where’d my kitty go? You scared him away!”
Her intoxicating vanilla and strawberry scent hit him, stunning him. As Neman turned towards her, she stumbled and he caught her with one arm. Like dragon’s fire the heat of her body pressed against his, sending a shock through his system.
The wavy-haired, lushly curved brunette was certainly not the prettiest or thinnest woman he’d ever beheld, yet she had eyes like the first morning sky, pale blue, with a smattering of freckles across a pert little nose and deep, pouty pink lips.
“You!” As she poked a pale pink-painted fingernail into his chest, her other hand found his cock through his expensive black tailored leather pants. She squeezed and almost had him coming on the spot. “You are going to turn my night from the worst one of my life into the best.”
“How do you wish me to do that, my lady?” Purring like a man who’d just discovered the greatest treasure under the heavens, Neman allowed his hands to roam down her perfectly sized back to a heart-shaped ass any man would die happy to pound into. Neman was having a good mind to do just that.
She looked very serious as she said, “I want to be fucked until I can’t walk, talk or do anything at all. Got a problem with that?”
Neman sheathed his sword and swung her up in his arms. “Not at all, sweetness—I do like a woman who knows what she wants.”

No, really, you're lopsided...

Okay, so I went and got a haircut. I should point out I had not got around to having one for six months and my resemblance to Cousin It was remarkable. So I went. Now, I have straight, boring brown hair that rests on my shoulders in a bob. It’s weirdly wavy at the back which makes no sense whatsoever and it also makes hairdressers say the same thing every time – “Your hair would be really curly if you had it cut short.” No. Incorrect.

Anyway so I went a training college to have it done because it was cheaper and I’m a great believer in people needing experience and how much can you bugger up straight hair? The answer? A bloody lot as I found out today. Apparently after much cutting the reason it was lopsided – longer one side than the other – was because I was sitting with my legs crossed. That’s what the head trainer said. Now, I was very patient up until this point but my answer to this was ‘Bollocks.’ When I uncrossed them it was still lopsided.

Will I go again? No. I like someone who purports to being charge to actually know something. And blaming the customer? Did I mention bollocks?

Screamers...

No, not sexually speaking…I’m talking about screamers at work. I’m dealing with tight knickered types at work who are under the mistaken belief that if they scream the loudest they will be dealt with the quickest. Not on Planet Amarinda. Screamers I just put at the end of the far-Q and let them go hoarse. Screamers I write short, cryptic emails to in order to confuse them. Screamers need to learn manners and wait their turn.

In a pushy world, I refuse to allow screamers to win. It was pointed out to me that I should scream back. Nope. Cool silence is better. Why should I lower myself to their level? I’m short enough now.

There are ways and means of getting everything. But screamers? Unless it involves knee wobbling sex, shut up and wait your turn.

Pondering…

If that saying…“If you love someone set them free…” - you know the whole deal they’ll come back to you if it’s meant to be etc, etc…what happens if you’re free of them and you’re thinking ‘this is pretty good. The house is all mine. I never have to cook, clean, shave my legs’ - and they turn up again? What saying covers that? “Bugger off” or “Oh, it’s you...” or “Bloody hell, Norah, I can explain why I sold the cat, the car and your bottle top collection...just give me a sec…”

I just feel greeting card philosophy should have some loophole or alternative, flowery saying ready to go for awkward moments when a lover returns after the act of ‘setting’ them free.

I’m always pondering….

Eat or rambulate...

So, go to Port Douglas and contemplate my navel while sitting on the beach before rambling around the Port markets – or – go and buy a microwave as my old one – that I have had 5 years – went to god. Nothing lasts. And how does one cook without a microwave?

Hmmmm…I believe I’ll go door number one thanks, Bob. Food can wait…

The Not So Secret Baby...out now, baby...

“I’m pregnant.” Those were the last words Izzy Mack ever expected to say. She turned to her friend and waited for the response.
“Holy fucking hell!” Cilla Brown’s eyes were opened wide in astonishment.
Yeah, that about summed up Izzy’s own reaction when she first read the home pregnancy test. It was only when her doctor confirmed it that she had been lost for words. Izzy pushed the shoulder length brown hair from her neck. It was hot and sticky in Cairns. Long hair and humidity didn’t mix in the tropics.
“I just don’t understand how it happened.”
Cilla raised her brows. “Well, it takes a man and a woman, who are horny and—”
“I mean I’m on the pill. He used a condom.” Unexpected pregnancies happened on soap operas and in terrible millionaire-Arab-sheik-seduces-the-wholesome-virgin-nurse romance books.
“Nothing is foolproof, Iz. Condoms tear and the pill isn’t always magical in its ability to stop the body doing what it’s programmed to do.”
“I know but…”
“Yeah, you never think it will happen to you.”
But it did. Izzy, at thirty-two years of age, was preggers, up the duff, and had the proverbial bun in the oven. She thought back to the man and the moment. That was easy to do. There had been no other lovers in her life since that night five weeks ago. In fact, none for months before that. Izzy had gone cold turkey on men. While she enjoyed sex, she wanted more. And then Izzy met him.
“He said he was a prince.”
“They all do, honey, when they want sex,” quipped Cilla.
“Yeah, I know but still there was something—”
“Princely about him? Did he have a black credit card?”
“Huh?” Izzy wondered what tangent Cilla was taking.
Her friend waved her hands in the air. “Oh you know. When Prince Fredrick of Denmark met Aussie girl Mary Donaldson he pulled out a black credit card and everyone knew he was a prince.”
“That wasn’t what he pulled out that caught my attention.”

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/products/The-Not-So-Secret-Baby-by-Amarinda-Jones.html

Ignorance is piss…

Recently a good friend told me that she was treated like crap by a professional woman while attending a business function. The professional woman who is higher up the corporate food chain and was used to treating those below her like crap kept calling my friend by her incorrect name. Constantly. You know the type of person – they do that to belittle, bully and make others feel inferior. My friend is a nice, even tempered soul who harms no one and frankly is not a threat yet she was subjected to this harassment because this bitch sensed an easy non-combatant target and decided to wound with her ignorance. I get that this corporate cow basically has no manners, class and somewhere buried deep in her psyche she is an insecure sod who gets some sort of strength by bullying others. Ask her about the misuse of names and she’ll say she ‘is terrible with names’ Me too. I take every chance I get to do the same to her and drive her crazy by other means. Childish? Maybe but fuck her I say. Don’t piss around with my friends.

Give me 60 blue pills, 40 pink....

I went to the doctor today for the first time since changing cities. I took all my old meds and prescriptions, explained the whole thyroid history etc. He just nodded and wrote me out new prescriptions for the same meds without questioning me further. So, I asked for two extra things – "I need my 6 monthly blood test to check my thyroid and I forgot my old prescription for morphine. Can you re-fill that please?" He looked at me then as I had his attention. “You use morphine?” He asked. I said,“Nope I just wanted to see what else you would hand over without blinking." Yes, yes, I’m exceptionally irritating but willy nilly dispensing drugs on the say so of a patient you have never seen before indicates anyone can be a doctor. Luckily, in Oz, I can go to any doctor I want and I shall exercise that right and be grateful for it.

Out of Jail…

For a while, I have been dealing with a company who I had no faith or trust in whatsoever. Doubt and mistrust makes for pox-ridden bedfellows when it comes to money. Call me crazy but I refuse to accept the word of people who treat others like subservient minions. Today, I made another huge break away from them and it feels damn good.

So, while I’m not completely out of jail – and it certainly hasn’t been free – it's taken huge amounts of persistence - it’s a bloody good feeling to be in control and not dependant on others whose intentions and actions you question or doubt. Really, when it comes down to it, you can only ever trust yourself. Am I a difficult woman? No. I just know what I want and can do better at on my own terms.

Book slut…

As an experiment I put a bunch of Scarlet Harlot books on eBay. Harlot is chugging away steadily and that’s fine with me as I’m in the experimental stages of this gig. This morning I woke up to find an email from an eBay Nazi saying I have violated copyright on books I owned. Uh huh…I violated myself and yet I don’t feel dirty…that must make me a book slut.

Why I mention this is I have known eBay to move as slow as molasses when illegally sold books owned by other authors holding copyright are on eBay. It takes an avalanche of complaints to get them to do something. Yet this? Removing without investigating? Interesting. Wrong. Wankerdom.

Those bloody flying monkeys...

I have a large photo of this on my kitchen wall – except mine is black and white. I’ve always loved The Wizard of Oz. This photo reminds me of several things – life is always an adventure, not to show your hand/fear when you’re at your most vulnerable and there’s always a bunch of flying monkeys to fuck up your day when you least expect it – but if you’re lucky enough you’ll get to wear ruby slippers with blue socks and not give a crap what anyone thinks.