Because they're watching...

So, GPS’s are being installed in government fleet type cars/trucks etc, at the temp job I’m working at. They gave me the job to ring around and book them in. Now, this is a terrifically contentious issue at the moment that has these government workers pissed that their employer wants to see where they’re parked and what they’re doing. Cries of it’s not fair or right or bastards (ok, that may have just been me entering into the spirit of the moment) and everyone wants the union to do something or they’ll do something but in my experience people rarely do because talk, as we all know, is cheap.

Anyway, I’ve been ringing…

Hello, we have to book your vehicle in for a GPS installation.

Why?

I don’t know man, I’m just the temp. (standard answer to all questions) I have a list and a series of different coloured highlighter pens.

Why the different colours? (Suspicious sounding)

I just like different colours (said casually to make people wonder what ‘colour’ I have used for them and why)

Who says I have to have one?

They do.

They?

Yeah, you know, them. The powers that be.

I’m not happy about this.

No one is ever really happy. Now pick a date…any date.

My thoughts on the GPS thing are this. If you are doing the wrong thing at work or parked outside the pub, the local knocking shop or in your own driveway, I have no issue with that. If you are too stupid to have worked out a plan, an alibi, a medical condition to cover it or the ability to lie with superb rat cunning when required, then maybe you just do the right thing. Because they’re watching…

Gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned ...

  

And I know that I'm damned if I never get out
And maybe I'm damned if I do
But with every other beat I got left in my heart
You know I'd rather be damned with you
Well, If I gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night with you
If I gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night
Dancing through the night
Dancing through the night with you 

(Bat out of Hell - Meatloaf) 

I heard this four times today. Kismet? Fate? Someone at the radio station asleep with their head on the replay button? Still a great song though...

Ladies work...

So, I was working at my desk and, let’s call him Sam, the cleaner, came through to sweep and mop etc. He’s also one of the mechanics in the workshop. He’s a nice guy. As he was working some of the other mechanics wandered and Sam said to them, “Just doing ladies work.” I turned to him and said. “What was that?” His response was to blush and say, “Just talking tough in front of the boys.” The boys all then looked sheepish as men do when confronted by lovely, yet scary, women such as myself. I smiled and said, “It will take years for you all to be as tough as women.” One bloke nodded and said, “Yep, I just do what the wife tells me to do. I don’t want no trouble.”

Men – delightful souls when trained well.       

Come, tell me more...

So, it was said to me today that X could be perceived as a troublemaker and it was probably best not to talk to X. Well, tell me stuff like that and I instantly want to talk to X. What is wrong with people? Just because fire’s hot and snow is cold doesn’t mean I’m not going to try my luck. And troublemakers? Fascinating and fun stuff.     

"Well, you know what they say: if you don't have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me – Clairee from Steel Magnolias.

And...and...and....

http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/relationships/dating-coach-damien-diecke-offers-words-of-advice-to-single-ladies-looking-for-a-man/story-fnet0gly-1226747756571

Well, there you go. So, let him know you’re interested and that you know what you want in a man and smile and make your intentions clear and reply to his texts and his phone calls and be engaging with him and compliment him and be seductive and fetch his pipe and slippers, have his dinner cooked and...and...and…

I don’t like the idea a woman has to revert back to 1950’s actions to attract a man. What happened to two people meeting and talking and maybe stuff happening. There’s too much pressure on women to be coupled up. I’ve been there, done that, kicked the rule book to the curb.

What I think, non-expert-guru-on-nothing-in-particular-at-all that I am, is be yourself. If something happens it’s happens. If it doesn’t then maybe it’s never going to and that, despite the advice divas, is not the end of the world. You’re with yourself a long time – longer than any partner or lover. Consider complimenting yourself.

And if  “YOU'RE pretty, smart, ambitious and all your friends say you're a catch, yet you're always the one at the wedding or dinner party who doesn't have a date…” you can and are allowed to go alone. Don’t be sucked in by stereotypical bullshit.   

A-W-K-W-A-R-D…

So, I was slumped on the sofa, watching TV, tired after doing a day of yard work and watching a repeat of some mindless, reality TV crap basically because I was too tired to flick channels to find other less mindless crap to watch. Anyway, on TV, this woman said to this man ‘I love you.’ Then there was silence. Dead, cold silence. You know the kind that is A-W-K-W-A-R-D. You could tell even though she had really wanted to say the whole ‘I love you’ thing, she said it without thinking and it just came out at the wrong time. Then she looked at him waiting for his reaction. He looked torn between stunned and oh-god-get-me-out-of-here. She then looked embarrassed and tried to take it back and he was all ‘no, it’s okay, of course I have feelings for you.’ Oh-my-god. Feelings? He used that line? What is wrong with him? No one should use that line. Ever. He should have just gnawed his leg off or feigned a heart attack or deafness to avoid having to say that to her because we all know the ‘I have feelings for you’ is the kiss of death. She then smiled, nodded, blinking back tears and trying to look all stoic with a look of ‘God, he’s an idiot if he can’t see how great I am’ and ‘how fast can I get in the car and drive to the nearest shop and buy ice-cream and wine…ooh, and maybe I’ll hire a stripper for the evening.’ It then became all deathly silent between them as if neither wanted to say anything further in case he suddenly found himself agreeing to marry her and she couldn’t trust herself not to head butt him for making her feel stupid because ‘I love you shouldn’t be a big deal, you dickhead and I have no idea why I thought I could have ever possibly loved you.’ Ah yes. A-W-K-W-A-R-D.     

Do you think this is why we’re all so interested in reading romance and watching romantic comedies because we know the characters will always say ‘yes’ and ‘I love you’ and get married because they’re supposed to and one dimension characters do not screw up as much as humans do? Is it because we want the ideal? It makes you wonder how anyone actually ever gets together.  

Aisle...Isle...I'll....

First up, let me say I really am enjoying the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K Hamilton. I’m a big fan of Jean Claude…not so much of the werewolves she mixes with but then I’m a vamp girl.

Anyway, I was reading another instalment in the series today and a typo in the paperback was doing my head in. Yes, yes, I know typos abound in books especially ebooks and not every editor and final editor is going to pick them all up. But, I expect a reputable publisher and not a fly-by-nighter e-pubber to pick up something simple like the fact that ‘isle’ does not mean the same as ‘aisle.’ I read it three times, in three different places, in a short space of time, and I had to put the book down. The two words have two different meanings and neither is the slightest bit similar nor can it be blamed the whole UK versus USA spelling.

Hmmm…at least they didn’t use “I’ll”….

       

You bloody shine...leave me out of it....

Rise and shine. Is that not the most inane thing to say to someone first thing in the morning when they can barely see, can hardly form words other than statements like “hmhprr…urg…gah..meh-heh-neh….ca-na…blurg-gurk ” or I do have my standard vampire hiss that is quite effective to deter shiny people.  

Origin of rise and shine? The bloody Poms - http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/303000.html

Rise and shine? Nope – I suggest the phrase ‘I’m up. That's the best you're gonna get.’

Torturous, bitch of a thing....

So, I wore this nice black lacy camisole under my shirt today, at work. I was having a girly day with the lace. While it looked nice – and yes, only I got to see it – it also had the benefit of being one of the fitted stretchy ones that also holds things in. You know – possible bulges, enticing love handles – all those loveable things the best women have. When I first put it on it felt pretty good.  I had just finished my 5km run and boxing session and I felt streamlined and ready to take on the world. An hour later at work, on a tropically humid day,  I walked swiftly to the ladies loos and ripped my shirt off, dragged the lacy, torturous bitch-of-a-thing off and threw it across the bathroom. It landed with a thwack and lay all pretty and lacy looking on the floor.  I then stood in my bra, letting my natural curves all hang out and swore as god is my witness I will never wear that again.

There’s a lot to be said for letting it all hang out. 

Tipping what?

So, I’m at my current temp job dealing with mechanical things – cars, trucks, things that make a lot of noise and I’m not just talking about men who feel the need to rev machines up and then stand around listening to the noise – and I’m trying to input these worksheets and I come across this one –

“Tipping fault traced to safety tipping switch for over tip on side tip if side tip is tipped tipping will tip over the tipping element.”

What the? I read it several times and thought about the whole ‘just say no’ to drugs thing and Peter Piper and his pickled peppers before collaring one of the men and saying ‘You speak male, what the hell does this mean?’  He read it several times, nodded and said ‘it’s obvious.’ Yes? Pray tell me. He crapped on in some obscure Dead Sea scrolls language until I said ‘you don’t know, do you?' He didn’t. I typed in ‘Tipping will cause it (I had no idea what it was) to fall over.’ Sometimes you just can’t do any more than that…

    

Crazy good...

So, I’ve been writing in between doing other stuff today. I won’t lie it’s been a shit-full year on personal scale and writing has been one of the last things on my mind. But today, as I was writing, I got several reviews come through Smashwords. Lordy, it took me long enough to work out how to get those books properly formatted on Smashwords and then out through ebook distributors. But it was worth it. The sales tell me that. 

But, more importantly – much, much more importantly, are the reader reviewers that come through on Smashwords.  I’ll be honest, I’m always amazed someone reads my books let alone likes them enough to place a review. It’s crazy good to get a review.  It’s also deadset humbling to know someone will spend hard earned cash on your stories.

Thank you  

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/134295

A-mazingly beautiful ....

Okay, so there’s a magical full length mirror in the building where I am working. It’s in the ladies loos. Why is it magical? Because I look bloody amazing in it. No, really. I do.  I’m gobsmacked at how good I look in it. I have full length mirrors at home and there’s one in the gym but this one in the ladies loos? I'm a goddess. I never look as good in any other mirrors. I swear it’s magical. I’m trying to work out how I can get if off the wall. It’s about 6 foot tall. I’m 5 foot 2. Unscrewing it has a 6.5% degree of difficulty. Getting it out of the loo, down the hall, past reception, out the door, across a busy road and into my car? A tad difficult but doable if I use a lie like – ‘I’m taking it out to be cleaned’ or similar because it’s not something that can be put in your handbag and walk nonchalantly away with. Hmmm…

Would you stand on your head?

There’s this ghastly woman at the temp job I’m working at who swears disgustingly. Why does she swear? To be one of the boys. It’s a male dominated workplace. The ‘boys’ swear – though, in saying that, not as much when I’m around. I figure it’s because I’m a princess.  Anyway, this woman’s swearing is so disgusting, I pulled her up on it. She said ‘everyone does it at this job.’ I said, channeling my mother,  “If everyone stood on their heads, would you?” She had no answer to this mainly because she looked confused, embarrassed and pissed that I confronted her. Did I have the right to? Yeah, I don't want to listen to a vulgar harpy on heat. Do I have a friend for life with her? Nope. But that’s okay. My point was made and taken on board. Yes, I swear but not like a drunken sailor. There is a time and place and I find that any woman who swears to fit in with men is desperate and doesn’t understand men at all.  But then, who does?

To Cambodia or not Cambodia…

So, people on my personal email got an email link from me about Cambodia. It was just the link and nothing else. Let me assure that I did not send it. It happens. There are losers out there who hack emails because they run out batteries for their sex toys and decide to piss around on the internet hacking people’s emails. So no – it wasn’t me. I have plenty of batteries…and no, I’m not suggesting anyone I know goes to Cambodia – but, in saying that I’m also not implying you shouldn’t go to Cambodia. I’ve never been. I cannot make a judgement on it. Go or not go to Cambodia as your conscience dictates. Okay? I should also add that me sending an email with the suggestion that you ‘go to Cambodia’ does not indicate that it is a subtle way of me telling you to go to hell. If you are on my personal email then you know I would just say ‘go to hell’ in less cryptic terms. Now,  if you did not get the Cambodia email then don’t email me asking why you didn’t. I don’t know. Maybe the hacker sensed your email address was not appropriate for Cambodia – and no, I don’t know why a hacker who has no batteries for his sex toys but plenty of time on his hands doesn’t think you’re worthy of Cambodia. It is what it is.  

So – Cambodia is your choice. Go – don’t go – just leave me out of it.  

Safety first....

I feel extremely safe in my home now that my firefighters calendar for 2014 has arrived. Gratuitous pictures of half naked men you say. Yes - and your point is?
  
I always buy the Queensland calendar so I can recognize the Firies if they come to my door. Yes...that's the reason. 

Safety first.

http://www.firefighterscalendar.com.au/

All things taipan...

 So, I bought season tickets for the Cairns Taipans home games in Cairns. Why? I don't understand basketball at all but I like the whole tribal atmosphere of a stadium of people supporting the home team.

Who are the Cairns Taipans? Click here –       http://www.taipans.com/

What is a Taipan? It’s a local snake that will kill you dead. Click here - 

http://www.australiazoo.com.au/our-animals/amazing-animals/reptiles/?reptile=venomous_snakes&animal=taipan

For an Amarinda story featuring the Cairns Taipans – click here-

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-neverever-851708-340.html

Margaret cheered at the top of her lungs as the Taipans scored another goal. They were at the Cairns Convention Centre, known to the locals as the Snake Pit. Her team, the Taipans, named after the deadliest snake in the world, came from the Cairns area, hence the name of the basketball venue. She and Kath were sitting amidst a sea of orange clad Taipan supporters. They outnumbered the visiting Townsville Crocs fans twenty to one.

Margaret loved the tribal atmosphere of the Snake Pit. She wasn’t a huge fan of the game as she didn’t really understand it, but she did support the home team. That was all that mattered. She looked around, waving at a few people she knew. It seemed that most of Cairns were there tonight.

“Well fuck,” Margaret muttered when she saw the blond man several rows down from where they sat.

“What?”

“That dickhead from the taxi rank is here.”

“Where?”

Margaret pointed him out, hoping he wouldn’t turn and see her. It was unlikely. He was sitting beside a very pretty looking blond. Typical.

Kath looked impressed. “Wow! He’s gorgeous! Oh hey, he’s looking over.” She waved at him.

Margaret grabbed her friend’s hand. “Don’t do that. He’s the enemy.”

“Right. Sorry. I forgot we hate him.”

“No, we don’t hate him. We just dislike him a lot.”

Secondhand books...

I bought a job lot of 20 second-hand books, dirt cheap on eBay. The author? Nora Roberts. They worked out to be 50 cents each in the end. I blame author Anny Cook. She started telling me about a couple of good Nora books to read, no, I’ve never read Nora and I suspect Nora has never read Amarinda. Anyway, I took wise Anny’s advice and scanned eBay and whiz-bang-presto – there were Nora’s books cheap.

So, what I want to know is this – do authors like Nora get pissed that their paperbacks, once read by the initial purchaser, are then sold second-hand? While everyone knows ebook pirates suck big, hairy donkey’s balls, isn’t what they do kinda similar to what the sellers of second-hand paperbacks do? They pass on ebooks to others. I’m guilty of buying cheap paperbacks and I know I’m not the only one. Is it just because ebook writers probably don’t sell as many as the Noras of the writing world that they get more emotional seeing their books shoved back out there on the internet by people who are not the initial seller and therefore the ebook writer doesn’t get the income? The second-hand paperback market I’m sure doesn’t send Nora her cut of the 50 cents per book that I just bought.

Just a thought… 

Blind friendship…

A friend swung by this arvo. I was wearing an old, not totally clean shirt, my hair was messy with my specs twisted up in my hair on my head and the chooks had made a mess on the patio – naturally just after I cleaned up their last mess – and yet my friend took it all in their stride and we sat and chatted about stuff and nothing else mattered. That’s real friendship. Things could be at their messiest or least attractive and a real friend makes you feel comfortable. Blind, unconditional friendship – priceless.

Namby pamby stress out...

I was listening to a male type person at work crap on about all the stress he was under and essentially he was having a stress out and wanted me to stress out with him.  I said to this ex-Cop bloke that is working in the same office – interesting person with quite a story to tell but that’s another blog – “he is stressing over nothing.” The ex-Copper agreed but he also said “Not everyone is like you, Amarinda” I know that. “Or me,” he added. “What we can handle would scare others.” Yes. People handle stress differently and I should respect that and not consider the namby pamby wimp whining about some insignificant thing a useless twerp. See? I understood the ex-Copper’s lesson. I just chose to go with my own interpretation.          

Watch your arse...

I went to buy a shower head at the hardware store this arvo. Oh hard... either it's an innie or an outie fitting and I couldn't guess/speculate which one I wanted/had at home and while agonizing over innies and outies, this large woman went past me in very, very, very short shorts and a short midriff top with her bare stomach hanging out and down. Okay, so THAT was eye-catching and it begs the question who would leave home like that without looking in the mirror and the mirror imploring 'do not EVER go out like that' - but more than that it was the post-it note on her arse that had me forgetting the sex of shower heads and I had to tell her about her arse. She was drawing enough attention to it without the yellow post it. After all that, I decided hardware stores were way too hard. I'll think about it tomorrow...

Goss...

I know for sure when working as a temp/hired gun in any office, people – men especially - love to gossip. I find being the fill-in worker gives people the freedom to vent their spleen about what they hate, who they hate, what’s going wrong in the company, which manager sucks, who’s sleeping with who and "did you ever wonder what’s going on behind that locked door with the warning sign, Amarinda? Well, I’ll tell you but tell no one.” Sure, tell me. Sure, I’ll probably tell no one about the locked door, the people screwing around or  whose fiddling with the system, the accounts, the lady who comes in and looks snotty at everyone but ‘we all now she’s screwing X and Y and just wait until W finds out she lifts her legs in the air for anyone.' Nope, I probably won’t use any of it unless I can use it to my advantage of course. I’m not silly. Know where the dirt is and stow that goss for ‘ron. Even as a temp power is knowledge.

It’s not just being the hired agency gun that makes people feel they can spill their guts. It’s me personally. I attract gossipers just by saying ‘hello and how are you?’ Call it a gift. A calling. An inner light that shines from me inciting gossipers to let go and tell all. Today, let’s call him, er – Barry – came into the office. I never saw him before but I said hello and it was on. He told me so much dirt. Barry, is somewhat of a troublemaker and flouter of rules. Barry also makes sure that the ‘system’ doesn’t screw him over or he’ll go on sick leave, claim discrimination, declare legal action, sit with his legs up on the desk or just go into go-slow mode to make sure nothing gets done and everyone knows he 'knows his rights'. I like the Barry’s of the world. They’re useful. I’ve used information from the-Barrys-of-the-world.com.

Yes, it’s wrong to listen to gossip to store information. Yes, very wrong. Thankfully, wrong works for me. 

Fierce...

So, I’ve been taking boxing lessons. I like boxing. It’s sweaty hot but very good cardio. My trainer told me today that I’m ‘fierce’ and hit hard – very hard.  I thought she was just joking because I’m always joking around with her about my ‘fists of fury’ as I bob and weave and punch at her. But no, she was serious. Apparently, I hit hard. Very, very hard and she reckons I could take out a lot of people if pushed. Aww…that’s a nice compliment. It made me smile. Maybe other people would like to be noticed and complimented for the way they look. I like that I’m considered fierce.

I credit it all to genetics. My father was an amateur boxer in his youth. Mind you, living in the slums, as he did, you had to be ready to defend yourself.

Fierce looks good on me.   

Pretty simple...

I went for a beach walk at Yorkey’s Knob, Far North Queensland, after my morning run. Yorkey’s is about 10 – 15 minutes from where I live. I was walking along, in my sweaty running clothes thinking how nice the morning was, how simple, beautiful and uncommercialized the stretch of beach is and how peaceful I felt at that moment walking in the water and scrunching my toes in the sand that dissolved beneath my feet with each rush of waves in and out. Simple. Easy. Peaceful.

This year, for me, has been pretty tough for many reasons but I have endured because to do anything but would go against my nature. Walking along the beach reinforced that whatever I do is okay and it’s what I’m supposed to do. Whatever I think is right, will be right and the battles I fight are justified because fighting for another’s honour is important even if I lose everything defending it. And in the end? I know the hope for a simpler life, without all the crap of this year, is obtainable and it’s just a matter of keeping faith in myself. It’s pretty simple really. Endurance + determination = self belief.

Beach walking -  good for the soul.   

Words to live...

“You can't get a suit of armour and a rubber chicken just like that. You have to plan ahead.”
- Michael Palin

"In the end, it's not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away."

- shing xiong

"Don't sleep in a subway, darlin'..." 

-  Dusty Springfield.

"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."

- Oscar Wilde

"You can't always get what you want..."

- The Rolling Stones.

"I don't know why I should have to learn Algebra... I'm never likely to go there."
- Billy Connolly. 

"I think that's the whole point of Bridget Jones. It's all about that it's okay to fail."

- Hugh Grant.

"Let it be." 

- The Beatles.

"I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end."

- Margaret Thatcher.

"Don't criticize what you can't understand."

- Bob Dylan  

Yeah...that's pretty much it...

...in light of being blessed, I think I will grow my hair...

A-mazing...

 There’s this dude that exercises every morning on the Cairns Esplanade. When I say exercise, it’s that he walks around in circles within circles and then detours off to a wonky square before dancing backwards down the boardwalk. The things you see at 5:30am. Anyway, he wears enormous headphones that have to be from the 1970’s and sings at the top of his lungs. Badly. Really, really badly. I know bad singing. I excel at being atrocious at it. But, in saying that he’s really into belting out whatever the hell song he is singing. It could be rock. It may be punk. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was opera on speed. It just could be the alphabet backwards. Anyhow, I can’t fault him – but for the headphones – because I also sound a-mazing when I sing along with Pink.

Actually I expect any day now Pink will call me up as a backing singer.    

It could happen...

Tuck shop lady arms...

I’m terribly impressed with this new talent I have. Every so often when I run I hear my flabby underarms clap. That’s a special new thing in my life. While I’m fitter than I’ve ever been and my biceps are pretty damn fine looking, the underarms – bat wings, tuck shop lady arms – are just hanging there. Initially I was pissed due to all the effort I was putting in only to have this clapping stuff going on if I hold my arms low as I run. Bodies huh? It’s always something. Just when you think you’re doing great, your body says – "Hmmm, I think she needs a headache, possibly a stubbed toe and lets shove on some cellulite – oh wait – what about a pimple on her nose? Yeah! Or maybe a really good, snotty cold and it end it with uncontrollable hiccups.”  

I have decided to look at the underarm issue as positive. Let’s face it, applause is good. Take it anyway you can I reckon.  

**Tuck shop = is a like a cafeteria/lunch room in a school.  

Greased nipples...

I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have typed in ‘greased nipples’ today. In a story you ask? No, at work. At a brothel pandering to nipple fetishes, you wonder? No, in a car/fleet mechanical type place where I’m temping. Lots of nipples get greased. And, cars have nipples. Who knew? And, in some ways I don’t want to know because I feel a car has a right to its private bits and pieces.

Anyway, I can tell you 99.9% of the mechanics cannot spell nipples, which is funny cause they’re men and men have a fondness for nipples. Most common spellings? Nipple’s, Nipels, Neppels and Nippals. Yes, nipples are a problem. Not just in the need or lust for them but in the spelling of them. I think maybe, in future, I will input them in as ‘greased pointy things'. Hell, I’m the temp. I can do stuff like...well, I can't but I do because life is short - so do stuff.

And it's nifty...

So, I’m doing this temping job gig working in an office where they deal with stuff to do with cars, trucks and mechanical type things. Anyway, I get to deal with people dropping off and picking up said mechanical things. I also put their orders in for their mechanical things to have whatever mechanical things need to be done mechanically to them. No – god no – I have no idea about cars let alone trucks.  I look blank a lot of the time and use the microphone in the office to call out to the workshop to ask a mechanical person to come into the office – i.e – “Harry come to the office. Mechanical things to discuss. Harry to the office.”

And there there’s all the coding to the right mechanical area. And no, it’s not logical like – e = electrical, m = mechanical, t = tyres…you get the drift.  It’s ‘this is a flange so it goes under G.’ Why? I dunno. A Valve replacement? It’s an E. Tyres? An O. Okay, I know what you’re thinking ‘cause I thought it too. Tyres are round and an O is round.  Nope, that’s wrong. It’s an O because it’s an O. “Don’t you know anything about cars, Amarinda?” Well, yeah, of course. Mine is lime green. It has a flowery steering wheel cover and it’s pretty damn nifty. What else is there to know?