Sunday, 30 December 2012
So, I rarely read books purely because like everyone else on the planet I’m busy. The only time I do get to read is on the plane or if I take myself away from civilization for a couple of days and zone out. Then I read. Paperbacks. No, I don’t read e-books. I like paper. Weird considering I write e-books but then in a world of great weirdness ‘tis only one more thing to add to the weirdness pile.
Anyway, I bought some books by a particular author. It’s a series. I bought them at a second hand market about a year ago. I don’t have the whole series…probably why they were selling cheap. So, I mentioned to a writer friend that I’ll have to have a look around for the ones I am missing. She said to buy them second hand from the internet. I found that interesting as this particular writer, let’s call her Cynthia, continuously bitches and whines about e-book pirates who sell/trade e-books – hers - on line cheating the writer – her - of said e-books out of money. Hmmm…double standard?
Now let me just say that e-book pirates are pond scum in my eyes. Their only redeeming feature is…er….ah…well, I’m sure maybe their pet ferret loves them and undoubtedly they enjoy playing with themselves.
I am always amused by authors who get all het up and emotional over e-book scum ripping off their work – “taking away our hard earned money” – but then these same writers would happily buy a paperback second hand - not from the author’s publisher - but a Joe Blow seller on the internet. The money doesn't go back to the writer. And no, I don’t go with the argument that the paperback author is only expected to get the money from the first virgin sale of said paperback. It’s a dumb argument and you could apply it to e-books so why use it?
So, is it that e-book writers are more emotional about things? More into double standards? Do they spend more time then they need googling their writer names to see how many times they are mentioned on the internet and that’s when they see the e-book rip-off sites? Are paperback writers less angsty? And from what I gather unless you are a world famous writer adored by gazillions, paperbacks don’t get you as many royal as e-books.
By all means have your double standards but keep ‘em to yourself.
And no Cynthia, it ain’t different…
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Friday, 28 December 2012
Wednesday, 26 December 2012
So, I took the Flyer (a fast mini bus to
Brisbane airport) from Toowoomba, a large
country town, and I chatted to the country people on board. Country people are
interesting. I learned more about the transport of horse semen than I ever anticipated
I would….but that’s another blog. Anyway, there was this 18 year old girl on
the bus who was travelling to Tasmania
– a bloody long way from where she lived – to visit her sister. When we got off
the bus at the airport she looked lost. She confessed she had never been to the
airport by herself and she was scared. I said ‘Let me corrupt you'…no wait…that’s
another blog that involves a man, a handcuffs and whipped cream…and I said 'follow me and I will teach the art Amarindarism.' This is essentially looking like you are in
complete control even when you’re not. I got her checked in for the flight. She even got checked for explosives. That was a bonus. At the gate she worried about the size of her
carry on bag. It was large. I said ‘pretend it’s not – that it’s average –
smile, chat, be confusing and that in itself will mesmerize people into
believing you are no threat in any way shape of form.’ I learnt that
from the Matriarch of the Jones clan.
The thing with this kid is that she made me smile when she openly admitted to me, a stranger, she needed help. I thought, as humans, we had lost the innocence. It’s nice to see we haven’t.
And she was only a bit corrupted. I had limited time…
Friday, 21 December 2012
Peace on Earth
Thursday, 20 December 2012
I had this moment of intense disappointment today. You all know what it’s like. You want something so badly and you find out you can’t have it and in that moment your heart sinks and you want to descend into ‘but I want it’ and why 'can't I have it' whining. However, I stopped myself when it occurred to me that I’m 49 years of age and never in those 49 years has whining ever made me feel better. The thing is we - I - set myself up to want everything and 90% of the time I know I will get what I want because I make it happen. Wanting is not a bad thing. Ambition is great. Falling flat on your arse? Cellulite rebounds and you just aim for the next thing you desire.
Never lose your cellulite. It's what keep us rebounding.
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
So, I walked into work and one of the zombies said ‘Customs wants to speak to you’. He looked excited like I was going to get in trouble. It’s the most emotion, unless food is involved, that I have ever seen from him. Anyway I rang the Customs dude and was informed to ring a Customs clearance dude and I had the most fascinating discussion with this man. Customs is, as we know, a very precise business and the people who are in it are no nonsense precise people who are, in essence, protecting the country. Weirdly enough, something I plan to personally indulge in next year, fell into the area of this man’s expertise and I picked his brains on regulations and requirements. He was most obliging and said I could contact him if I got into any trouble or needed help. I shall.
I am a great believer that people and things come to you when you are at a point in your life when you’re trying to decide which path to take. It’s like a cosmic push man…
Monday, 17 December 2012
….I watched The Goodies on You Tube, read a bunch of files I probably shouldn't have but knowledge is power and I wrote porn.
All in all a productive day.
|“I believe everybody in the world should have guns. Citizens should have bazookas and rocket launchers too. I believe that all citizens should have their weapons of choice. However, I also believe that only I should have the ammunition. Because frankly, I wouldn't trust the rest of the goobers with anything more dangerous than string.”|
Sunday, 16 December 2012
So, I’m absolutely not against public displays of affection. I think they’re cute, nice and romantic in a world where we often forget what romance is.
But – and there is always one, I was swimming after my run this morning and there was this couple kissing and in the way of everyone who was trying to swim in the lagoon. It’s lovely you love each other. It’s sweet that you’re kissing and it’s good to see the romance is alive, but for god sake, go snog in the shallow part so we can swim. There is no romance in exercise…
Saturday, 15 December 2012
I always love those moments when the heroine realizes she loves the hero and she can’t do a damn thing about it because he can’t possibly love her....
Thursday, 13 December 2012
I learnt very young to always pay attention to what the controversial and supposed ‘bad’ people did and to ask them questions and to generally build a rapport with them because everyone, whether they acknowledge it or not, has a bad, shameless streak in them that they either use to their own advantage or hide from because it’s ‘not right’ or ‘correct’ and ‘what would people think?’ The controversial people aren’t like that. They do what they like and take matters into their own hands and refuse to be bowed down by what people think. I like that in people.
If it’s right for you and you know the consequences and you still want to do it? Do it I say. As for goodness? I reckon if you believe in heaven and you think you have a crack at getting in – be good. Me? I’m keeping my eyes and options open and if I end up in hell due to some badness then at least I’ll have people to talk to.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
So, I attended an interview for another job during work time because I could. I was told to dress corporate. I ain’t the corporate type but I did unearth my black jacket and managed to match my socks and, as close as possible, my earrings before wandering off to be interviewed. I interview very well. Talking, along with being able to bend over and place the palms of my hands on the ground, is one of my superpowers. I’m never lost for something to say. I was however lost trying to find the end of a thread – or a fred if I’m not paying attention and my inability to pronounce ‘th’ without finking er…thinking…takes over. Anyway, back to the the thread. I sat down and waited for the interviewer people to come in. It was then that I noticed I had a thread attached from my sleeve down to the buckle of my Doc Marten Mary Janes…okay –yes - not corporate but no one gets between me and my Docs. So this thread…how the hell did it latch on from sleeve to buckle? I have no idea. I pulled the thread. It was taut and didn't move. I tried to break it. Nuh-uh, not happening. I thought ‘well this is lovely. I’ll have to stand up and I’ll look like a Quasimodo hunched over to one side.’ I thought ‘take the jacket off, dummy.’ But then I remembered, ‘no, that will show your splendid arm tatts and this job specifically requested no visible tatts.’ Bugger. So I took the offending Mary Jane off and put it on my lap. This gave the thread some slack and I managed to break it. Problem was I managed to cut my finger on the nylon at the same time. So there I am, bleeding finger in mouth and a Doc in my lap. I’d want to employ me on interest level alone. Anyway, there was a knock on the door. I took my finger out of my mouth, dropped the shoe shoving my foot into it as they walked in the door. I wiped my bleeding finger on my black pants leg and shook their hands.
Did I get the job? Yes, I think I have it. Will I take it? No, not enough money for what they want done. Let’s face it…I’m a bleeding-thread-breaking-one-shoe- wearing-multi-tasker. I deserve big bucks, baby.
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
"Being powerful is like being a lady... if you have to tell people you are, you aren't."
Monday, 10 December 2012
I had nothing – and I mean nothing - to do at work today so I wasted time as expected by surfing the net looking for jobs, nail foils and other odd things when I saw this –
I find it fascinating that some public servant is in charge of listing public toilets. Bet that’s a fun job. Anyway, it’s not the first time I’ve seen it. I wrote about it in Thigh High – an exceptionally Aussie themed book that a publisher thought would be a good series to do. It wasn’t. Too much Aussie confuses people. But there you go…
Thigh High….0.99 cents – what do you have to lose? https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thighhigh-600244-340.html
—well, there were no
“falls” to speak of. Years ago, before the crippling drought, there had been a
trickling stream of water that ran over a rocky outcrop down into Possum Gully.
It had never been spectacular but it had drawn the odd tourist to stop and take
a photo before moving on. But not now. There was nothing to see but red, rough
rock and dust. Even the possums had left. There had been talk about
changing the name of the town but that had been vetoed. As Beryl Adler,
cultural guardian of all things local had said, “If we change the name we’d
have to change the postcards and we got them as a job lot.” That was true. They
had six hundred and thirty-two left out of six hundred and fifty purchased. No
one was about to throw those out due to lack of water. Amberwarra
“I still don’t know why he’s coming back to bung in a gym where Davo’s book emporium burnt down. Not like we need newfangled stuff like that.”
It hadn’t been so much an emporium as a dusty old shop that sold tattered old books, comics, newspapers and once a week the local poker game had been held in the back storeroom. It was on poker night that the store went up in flames. Many said it was the cigars the men liked to smoke. Others blamed a mosquito coil used to keep the insects at bay.
The real reason? The fire brigade found evidence a scented candle had been burning during the game. It was thought someone had knocked it over. Of course no man admitted to it mainly because being caught anywhere near anything scented and girlie was not something any of them wanted to claim.
“Yeah, we don’t need new stuff in the Falls.” Dusty always agreed with anything Blue said. They were mates since kindergarten. “Besides we’re already on the map.”
Maz rolled her eyes. She knew which map they were referring to. “That map is hardly prestigious.”
“Yeah, but if you look us up on gaggle—”
“Google,” Maz corrected Dusty.
“Same bloody difference.”
Merlene picked up and rattled the swear tin at him.
“Fair suck of the sav, Merle. Bloody’s not a swear word.”
“Cough up, sunshine.” Merlene waited for Dusty to pay up for his swearing.
“Jeez, you’re a mad cow. You and your bloody wombats.” Dusty threw a collection of coins into the tin.
“You used two ‘bloody’s.”
Dusty rolled his eyes and added a ten dollar note. “Happy now? Anyway, as I was saying, anyone can see the toilet block in
got Amberwarra Falls
fourth prize in the cleanest toilets in .” Queensland
Maz smiled and wondered how Captain Cook would feel about being a namesake of a park that held a toilet block that was the second biggest attraction to the now nonexistent falls. There was even a shiny brass plaque proclaiming they were fourth best.
“Yeah, dunnies are important if you pass through Amberwarra as there’s nothing for miles until Krogan’s Crossing.” Blue slapped some more money on the counter for a refill.
Merlene pulled the beer, flicking the tap with an expert hand. “And your Auntie Beryl does a roaring trade with her crocheted doll toilet roll cover stand that she’s set up just outside those toilets.”
“That’s right.” Blue thanked Merlene for the beer. “Beryl does big business for the Pioneer Women’s nag-fest group and no one gets past her without buying one.”
That was true. Auntie Beryl could sell toilet roll covers to aliens from Mars. It wasn’t so much she was a great salesperson or that the dolls were attractive. They weren’t. It came down to the fact that Beryl, at fifty-three, with her fake raven-black locks and large breasts and forceful voice, often stopped people in their tracks. She was like an aging kewpie doll, complete with Doris Day bow in her hair. Once stopped, they often walked away with at least one crocheted doll and a few less dollars in their pockets. No one said no to Beryl.
Yeah...we're a weird mob.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
Give me a bag of cable ties, some lumps of wood and a glimpse of a vision of greatness and I can create a masterpiece.
Love cable ties. If we used them more I'm sure there would be world peace.
Love cable ties. If we used them more I'm sure there would be world peace.
Friday, 7 December 2012
We should have learnt this at school and not frigging algebra...
"Zombies are not mindless hunters. They are swifter and craftier than one might expect. A lone zombie can burst out of hiding and take a chunk out of you in the blink of an eye."
Never engage a zombie if you can avoid it
"Though zombies are surprisingly quick in confined spaces, they are not swift runners. Engage the zombie only when you are trapped, and escape is not an option."
Focus on the task; keep fear out of your head
"No one, no matter what their powers of description, can fully prepare you for your first encounter with a zombie. Their grotesque appearance and smell, along with the inhuman noises they emit, can induce a level of fear and terror that precludes rational response and causes one to freeze. You must not react to the zombie's appearance. Focus instead on delivering a combination of offensive and defensive strikes that will buy you enough time to escape. "
Do not allow the zombie to get a grip on you
"Once a zombie wraps you in its powerful grip, your prospects for survival are minimal. Therefore, your first priority must be deflecting away the zombie's hands. "
Seek medical attention after any encounter
"Always have trained medical personnel examine you as soon as possible after any encounter, even if no wounds are visible. The zombie virus can enter your body through the smallest opening in your skin, be it a scraped knuckle or a nicked elbow."
Thursday, 6 December 2012
.... issue where the girls were flying up to land on the top of the 6 foot fence and then strutting their fluffy chook arses back and forward driving the next door neighbour’s dogs wild. The next door neighbor was quite alarmed at their teasing behavior because it was giving her dogs a complex and they’re sensitive souls…apparently. The chooks aren’t sensitive. They’re individuals who do what they like and if a couple of dogs lose their mind in the process? So be it. So I corralled the birds, grabbed each by the legs, hung them upside – they’re surprising comatose when you do that - and clipped one wing on each. They survived the ordeal remarkably well but they still taunt the dogs next door. Now they just run back and forward down along the bottom of the fence line driving the dogs mad on the other side because they run back and forward following their scent until they're dizzy and need to lie down due to an attack of wooziness. I have explained to the girls they’re very naughty doing this but they just smile and nod and pretend to take my words on board.
The issue I have now is they are annoying the hell out of me making a mess hanging out on the patio trash talking with the caged budgies. This has to stop. As advised by a chicken scaring guru, I bought a couple of rubber snakes to scare them – they kick them around – and I bought this reflective tape that’s colour and the sound it makes in the wind is supposed to frighten them. It doesn't They chew on it. So, I’m going to dramatically increase the dimensions of the Chook Mahal, their home, and confine them inside their own, spacious pleasure dome to wander around and maybe they just may settle down and lay some eggs...but that’s another issue.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
So, I’ve been toying with a business idea that I reckon is a goer. What is it? Not saying yet but it’s far left of writing. Those who are close to me know where my mind is on this venture and not one of them has told me it won’t work. In fact, they just assume it will because I want and plan to make it work. That or they think 'nod and smile at her and she'll go away'. I rarely do.
Moments like these are when you know who’s on your side regardless of what craziness you come up with.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
I was trying on some new swim shorts in Target today and I happened to catch a glimpse of my undie covered arse in the three mirrors that were positioned in such a way to make you see everything. Oh the tragedy.
This is what I think, if you want women to spend money on clothes, don’t put arse reflecting mirrors in change rooms. We know it's big. You don't need to reinforce that. Let us worry about world affairs and man's inhumanity to man. That's waaay more important than freaking out at our arses.
Loved this pic. Saw this display in the shop window of City Chic in Cairns Central. I shot passed the store and then had to double back to have another look. Fancy a mannequin with a stomach, thighs and hips? They looked like – gasp – shock- horror – real women and not some skinny underfed crossing dressing males. Well done City Chic.
Monday, 3 December 2012
Like Superman has issues with kryptonite, boredom and needy people drive me nuts. Weirdly enough, both of these things keep getting thrown into my path and I’m wondering if the cosmos is trying to teach me a lesson on patience and goodliness . If so, seriously piss off cosmos. It ain’t happening.
Sunday, 2 December 2012
57 years ago today, Rosa Parks chose not to give up her seat for a white man and chose not to go to the back of the bus because of the colour of her skin.
What a courageous woman. I absolutely admire what she did. It took a tremendous amount of guts.