tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4645093100286362262024-03-13T11:53:40.785+10:00Amarinda JonesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.comBlogger2337125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-26977658023399941692014-05-15T19:03:00.000+10:002014-05-15T19:03:00.397+10:00That old ratbag woman...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mueJRWnCE1c/U3SB4aajf9I/AAAAAAAANp4/VWZf4t_cyWo/s1600/ca.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mueJRWnCE1c/U3SB4aajf9I/AAAAAAAANp4/VWZf4t_cyWo/s1600/ca.png" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All week I've driving down the <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Bruce Highway</st1:address></st1:street>, away from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Cairns</st1:place></st1:city>, to a small town to do some temp work
there. The trip down is a beaut. Yes, the road is crap and there are lots of
cowboys on it, but the scenery is <strong><em>so</em></strong> Far North <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Queensland</st1:place></st1:state> with sugar cane fields and banana
plantations on either side of the road competing with mountains like Walsh's
Pyramid (pictured) , Bartle Frere and Bellenden Kerr. As I was drove along thinking
about lots of things, singing along to a Tim McGraw CD at the top of my lungs and
thinking about living in a shack, surrounded by an odd assortment of farm
animals, growing vegetables and generally being the 'old ratbag woman who lives
over there in that shack.' Yeah, I'm looking forward to that. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-37927569093568908202014-05-12T18:52:00.000+10:002014-05-12T18:52:14.545+10:00Yeah...okay...whatever....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-anHAyaLlt_4/U3CLWw_tj2I/AAAAAAAANpo/Z6FDDCUKG-I/s1600/Funny-Adult-Jokes-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-anHAyaLlt_4/U3CLWw_tj2I/AAAAAAAANpo/Z6FDDCUKG-I/s1600/Funny-Adult-Jokes-10.jpg" height="400" width="296" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Someone told me something so stupid today that I looked at
them and thought <em>yeah...okay...whatever</em>. I wasn't upset. I wasn't surprised. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I've got to the stage that I don't
expect anything from anyone so I'm constantly not surprised by the half arsed
actions of others. I just shrug and go on my own sweet way knowing that's the
only thing you can do, that people are weird and thankfully I'm smart enough to rarely believe anyone
I don't know well anyway. And you know what? It finally occurred to me that I'm
an adult and I don't care anymore and that I can walk away with my bat and ball
and always find another game. </span><br />
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-74583379094354030062014-05-10T17:04:00.000+10:002014-05-10T17:04:42.916+10:00Holy snapping swans...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wCOevs-SH_Q/U23Ob3PkadI/AAAAAAAANpA/d2TfydiwmwA/s1600/funny-duck-swimming-pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wCOevs-SH_Q/U23Ob3PkadI/AAAAAAAANpA/d2TfydiwmwA/s1600/funny-duck-swimming-pool.jpg" height="400" width="380" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I've been fighting a long, drawn out, tense battle all
to do with honouring another's actions and words. It's never occurred to me to
give up. You don't give up on honour let alone the rights and beliefs of
another. Because someone dies it doesn't mean their words and wishes die. Those
words are as real and as important as on the day they were spoken and written
down. That person depended on you to follow through and make sure their wishes
were heard. They needed them to be understood. Simple as that. Giving up a
fight because it's hard? No fucking way will I let someone down. <em>Ever.<o:p> </o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Someone said to me "Don't you wish it was happening to
someone else?" My answer was no and I explained that no one else could
handle this as well as I am. Yeah, I'm full of myself but my mother always told
everyone her duck (me) was a swan - calm on the outside but bite your damn hand
off if<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you pushed her. I know there are
no limits to what I will do when it comes to loyalty. I don't understand
disloyal people or those who think a man's words can be overturned through
selfishness and bullying. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Disloyalty? You reap what you sow.</span> </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-62178088960503137832014-05-03T15:28:00.001+10:002014-05-03T15:28:13.801+10:00Plot twist...
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<div class="irc_mutc">
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" 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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, Norbert died yesterday. I was pretty surprised to find
him dead. I looked at Cheryl, Neville and Louise. They were looking down at him.
Then they looked at me. I said, "What's the go?" They didn't respond.
Budgies are like that. Inscrutable. Stoic. Closed mouthed.<o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just now I went outside to bring in the dried laundry. Ursula,
my beauty challenged chook, was staring at something on the grass. I wandered
over and found a dead budgie. Another one. <em>Hmmm.</em> This was grey and not mine. I suspected
this one was an escapee. I wandered over to the budgie cage and looked at my
three remaining budgies. They were tight lipped but exchanging furtive glances
as if they knew too much. <em>Hmmm.</em> <o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I disposed of the runaway as I did Norbert, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a weird side plot in the current story I'm
writing coming to mind. Will there be a third budgie death to intrigue over? <em>Hmmm...</em></span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-67490248181443149332014-04-29T18:00:00.001+10:002014-04-29T18:00:47.333+10:00Dumb at Heart...out now...
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<a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-dumbatheart-1490617-340.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Dumb at Heart" height="400" src="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/dbimages/1490617.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">After unceremoniously being dumped by her boyfriend, Cass
Kelly has had enough of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>men and the big
city. She needs a change and a challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On a drunken whim, she accepts a job working in a small hotel in the
outback town of Mundabucka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men? Who needs .them? Sex? Never, ever again.</span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Local cowboy Evan Bates is not one to say never and makes it
only too obvious why she needs men, sex and him specifically. The redheaded
Cass is in his sights and he aims to get her. But lust isn’t the only thing
stirring in town. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the annual
Throcker Thrash where legendary gold is hunted and Cass is caught up in the
race for it. Who wants it so badly they’ll kill for it?</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Excerpt....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Two hours later, standing at the local airport at Mundabucka with a
suitcase in one hand and two cackling caged chooks in the other, Cass looked
around her. Behind her was a rusted-in-parts, corrugated tin shack that served
as arrival and departures for the overly optimistically named Mundabucka International
Airport. In front of her
was dry, red dirt as far as the eye could see. And the heat? Suffocating.
Unlike Cairns
it was a dry heat that sucked all the moisture out of a body. Cass felt the
sweat dripping down between her breasts and clinging to the short floral
sundress she was wearing. </span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She put both the suitcase and chooks on the ground and re-scraped her
hair up into a haphazard bun on top of her head. “Frig, it’s hot.” Cass looked
around her. Other than the squinty-eyed airport controller, who introduced
himself as Phil, there was no one. She was supposed to be met by someone called
Evan. Phil smiled when she told him this. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Evan’s a creature of whim. He gets the call of the wild and takes off
just like that.” He snapped his fingers.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Cass was impressed as not only was Phil missing two front teeth but also
three fingers on his left hand and two on his right. He explained this as a
‘run-in with a pissed off wild pig.’</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She looked down at the caged chickens. “Okay, so maybe this wasn’t a
brilliant idea but it’s not my worst.” They cackled loudly. “Oh, shut up. I
know what I’m doing—kinda.” Cass muttered under her breath and looked around
her once more. There was loads of nothing for miles. “Where the hell is he?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Who?” came a voice from behind her.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Cass spun around in surprise. “Where did you come from?” She asked as she
surveyed the tall, lanky man with broad shoulders that most men would kill for.
She looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen and saw only amusement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men. Amusement. Not happening. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“You’d be the city chick here to work at McNally’s Hotel.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">City chick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>“I’m Cass Kelly and undoubtedly you’d be
the creature of whim, Phil was telling me about.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The dark haired man smiled. “That’d be me.” Evan Bates at your service.”
He looked down at the caged chooks. “You brought chooks.” That made his smile
wider.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cass picked up the cage. “You’re quick.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Evan scratched his head. “You know, when Jo and Flo said you were
bringing them I thought the old girls had lost their minds.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Do you have a problem with chickens?” They were her pets. She couldn’t
leave them to fend for themselves when she went bush. They were like family.
Sort of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">He shrugged. “Nope. We like chickens here—preferably deep fried.” </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“You fry my chickens and I will fry your ass.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Evan arched one eyebrow. “That could be fun.” His gaze then traveled down
her body, lingering on her breasts, before moving down to her thong clad feet
and back up to her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’re their
names?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">“How do you know I named them?” She had but that wasn’t the point. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Do I look that obvious? </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“You brought them all the way to the middle of nowhere. They have to be
important to you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The chooks were quiet as they watched him. Cass squared her shoulders.
“Mitzi and Bert.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Bert?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Yeah, what of it?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Bert is a boy’s name. This chook is a female,” he pointed out as he
reached for her bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">“So?” Cass knew her tone was defensive but she wasn’t in the mood to deal
with a smart ass man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Still smiling at her, he responded, “Nothing. So, one bag only?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I travel light.” She had left everything she owned at Lorelle’s place.
Not that ‘everything’ was much. It was an old television, a purple cane chair,
a sofa bed and an oversized panda she won at the Cairns show when she was twelve and was
reluctant to get rid of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Most women travel with all sorts of crap.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“I’m not most women.” </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Again, he looked her up and down. “Nope, you’re different all right.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She wanted to ask what he meant by that but decided against it. She had a
feeling the answer would be complicated and right now she needed easy and
simple. “How far’s McNally’s?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“It’s in the middle of town so that’d make it about five kilometers from
here.” </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Great. Let’s go.” She desperately wanted a shower. “Where’s your car?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Horse.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Horse?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Yeah, I rode here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Well, how am I supposed to get to McNally’s?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“On the back of my horse.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What the?</i> She hadn’t ridden a
horse in her life and wasn’t about to now. “What about my stuff?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Phil will drive over later with it.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cass placed the chicken cage on the ground. “Fine, I’ll go into town with
Phil.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“No worries. He goes off shift in six hours.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Her eyes widened at that. “Six hours?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Yep, he’s stationed here in case of emergencies.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Cass looked around at the vast expanse of nothingness. “Like what? Aliens
landing?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: yellow; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-dumbatheart-1490617-340.html"><span style="color: yellow; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-dumbatheart-1490617-340.html</span></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-76169150663631577222014-04-28T15:49:00.001+10:002014-04-28T15:49:13.601+10:00Three minutes...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Mens-Cartoon-Novelty-Funny-Character-Boxer-Shorts-Underpants-Underwear-/281176665263" itemprop="url" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Mens Cartoon Novelty Funny Character Boxer Shorts Underpants Underwear " border="0" class="img img300" height="400" itemprop="image" src="http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTIwMFgxMjAw/z/ZI4AAOxygKZSTRjw/$(KGrHqV,!qsFI+Jted0OBSTRjwB!3!~~60_35.JPG?set_id=8800005007" title="Mens Cartoon Novelty Funny Character Boxer Shorts Underpants Underwear " width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I was talking to a very good and wise friend about
various things, as we do, and the subject came up about underwear and the three
minute rule. What? You don’t know what the three minute rule is? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be honest, I didn’t know about it either. We
were talking about underwear and how you may notice it on someone and wonder how
comfortable it is or isn’t but essentially after three minutes it’s no longer
an interesting topic and underwear is just underwear. It is probably even more so a
three minute deal when you live with someone all the time and what’s covering a
derriere is same old same old so a three minute look sums up the
interest level.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I dunno. I think I want more when it comes to underwear
consideration time when it comes to important to look at underwear be they on significant
others or sexy men. I don’t want to be restricted to a glance or a
seen-it-all-before-look. I believe when it comes to the perusal of underwear there
should be no rules. Just my thoughts as someone who constantly wanders around the house in my underwear for longer than three minutes. I couldn't live with someone who was timing me and my underwear. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Say no to rules. </span></div>
<div class="irc_mutc">
</div>
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=Ku86iYsNDquUwM&tbnid=fRcgFMa0sPMqRM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.ebay.co.uk%2Fbhp%2Fmens-funny-boxers-xl&ei=cOddU8fpLo6hlQWe6IC4Dg&bvm=bv.65397613,d.dGI&psig=AFQjCNHWXH5L8SC5JfbVfw5C5H0f0bDE9A&ust=1398749403053920" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="irc_mutc" style="border-image: none;">
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-89524949205555479712014-04-26T09:09:00.000+10:002014-04-26T09:10:29.264+10:00Termeritously yours...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nNGPIU-SMeg/U1rqi3WUr2I/AAAAAAAANn4/87et93l0yeU/s1600/fashion-strong-women-favim-com-272661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nNGPIU-SMeg/U1rqi3WUr2I/AAAAAAAANn4/87et93l0yeU/s1600/fashion-strong-women-favim-com-272661.jpg" height="258" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I've been thinking about the name for a female nemesis. I've
also been dealing with this situation. Writing versus life. Then the name of
the nemesis was given to me by something happening in my life. I'm calling her
Temerity Cann©. Why? Because someone in real life is pissed that women can be
strong and bold enough to fight against dickheads. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, thanks so much for shoving the word 'temerity' in my
face. You know how much you mean to me. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-29804215038746543602014-04-24T17:26:00.000+10:002014-04-24T17:26:40.003+10:00One Smart Zombie....out now...
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-onesmartzombie-1485495-140.html"><img alt="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-onesmartzombie-1485495-140.html" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j33_p0hbGBo/U1i7wBmsW4I/AAAAAAAANno/-rWCXNysA4I/s1600/onesmartzombie.jpg" height="400" width="251" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">"Jacqueline, is that the best
you can do?" He sent a sent a smashing blow towards her nose. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She only just dodged the black,
fisted boxing glove by retreating backwards, lightly on her feet as the rush of
air from the power of it shot over her nose. Refocusing, she aimed an uppercut
at his stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Don’t call me
Jacqueline." </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">He bowed his body backwards,
deflecting the punch. "Jackie, then."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Jack Katz smiled. She knew this man
of old. The games he played she enjoyed. "Do you want me to beat the shit
out of you?"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Magnus Wellsby snorted at that.
"Like you could. You’re just a girl, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jaq-ue-line."<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Whack. </span></i><span lang="EN-US">Her fist connected with his jaw.
Jack had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes momentarily blink in pain. She
followed up with a hook to his stomach. The involuntary sound of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oomph</i> from him made her smile. He never
gave away any feelings or emotions unless caught off guard. Like now.
"You’re getting old, Squiggly." She danced around him punching the
air waiting for him to re-group. "How old are you anyway?" He was her
colleague, boss and mentor. He annoyed the hell out of her with his attitude
and fascinated her with the mystery that surrounded him. One minute he was
obvious, the next obtuse and confusing. Jack called him 'Squiggly' due to his
dark, bushy eyebrows that looked like they had been haphazardly drawn on.
Those, and his curly hair, made her think of squiggles. Of course he was the
least ‘Squiggly’ man she had ever met. There was a deep, magnetic intensity
about him that was both powerful and frightening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calling him Squiggly, in her mind, slightly
leveled the playing field they were on.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">"Why? You interested in
me?"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">She bounced back and forward in
front of him. Could he knock her on her ass? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Absolutely.</i> Would he? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Absolutely</i>.
That was their relationship. Equal, yet not so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jack wasn’t silly enough to think she knew everything about the dark
haired man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In some ways it was probably
best not to. There was a scary, intense edge to him hidden behind a charming
smile. "Well, when the paramedics come it would be helpful to be able to
give them your approximate age."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was then she caught her sneakered toe on the edge of a rubber exercise mat and
hit the floor, landing hard on her side. The fall jarred her. She rolled over
and looked up at her opponent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack knew
being vulnerable at any stage with him was dangerous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">He laughed. "On your back,
where you should be, Katz." Magnus charged her, giving no quarter. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jack scrambled
onto her knees and crawled fast along the ground. It wasn't dignified but it
wasn't meant to be. She was only looking to get enough distance between them in
order to get to her feet. Once up, Jack repositioned her stance. Left foot
forward while her right was behind giving her strength. Her red gloved fists
guarded her face. She liked boxing. It was good cardio that kept her reflexes
strong and Squiggly was a good opponent. Unlike other men she boxed with, he
treated her like an equal and pulled no punches. Neither did Jack. "Bring
it on, Squiggly-man."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Magnus
charged her, fists flying, making her continuously back away. She knew she
needed to get in a position where she could force him back but it was hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just kept coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">"This enough
for you, Katz? Do you need more? Something harder or deeper? More out of
control? I know you like it like that."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She did. But not
boxing. They both knew that. "I’d wear you out of we had sex." Jack
was starting to sweat, trying to avoid contact with him. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">He laughed at
that. "I may not want to have sex with you." Magnus threw a long
armed punch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Jack managed to
avoid it. Just. "That’s true. I’ve often wondered whether you like men
better."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">**Story 2 in the Jack Katz Zombie Hunter series</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 8.5pt; tab-stops: 186.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 21.55pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-onesmartzombie-1485495-140.html"><strong><span style="color: yellow; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-onesmartzombie-1485495-140.html</span></strong></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-35372964934456778972014-04-18T05:14:00.001+10:002014-04-18T05:14:26.464+10:00 &%$#!!!!
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pedJnCWA30M/U1Amq49aA5I/AAAAAAAANnY/WeaubkQMimU/s1600/download-651.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pedJnCWA30M/U1Amq49aA5I/AAAAAAAANnY/WeaubkQMimU/s1600/download-651.png" height="272" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I'm picking up Rosie, a kelpie with a dash cattle dog in
her, next Tuesday from the homeless shelter after I come back from a trip to
the middle of nowhere. Yesterday I bought food and stuff so I had everything
when she wanders in. Last night I put together what initially appeared to be a simple
dog bed. Simple-my-arse. First of all the instructions were completely wrong
for me. I think they were written for someone else...like a man. I did almost
consider calling a very good male friend and requesting him to 'fix it please'.
But I didn't. I girded my loins and with Allen key in hand I put the dog bed
together upside down. $#^%!!!! I looked at it, upside down and thought, "That's
fine. I can live with that." Then I looked again and thought "%^&*!!!
Damn it, I have to pull it apart." Once apart I assessed all the pieces
very, very carefully and even retrieved the instructions from the bin and after
careful consideration I put it together upside down - again. %^&*!!!! What!!! I
stopped and had a coffee and assessed the problem deciding it was a either a left
or right brain puzzle and I hate puzzles and I absolutely knew that the
instructions were wrong - stupid instructions - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and none of this could possibly be my fault .
And yes, I did consider super gluing that sucker together or tying it up. After
another cup of coffee and a lot slapping around the face, I struggled for
another 40 minutes to get the thing together. After a lot of swearing and maybe
the generous application of hammer to metal, the dog bed was done. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See? Easy. No problem.</span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-46801922100890400652014-04-06T09:53:00.000+10:002014-04-06T09:53:15.295+10:00Wow, a plot...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b8iErPasDpA/U0CWUkyZajI/AAAAAAAANnI/YVlQ1-fnrPI/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b8iErPasDpA/U0CWUkyZajI/AAAAAAAANnI/YVlQ1-fnrPI/s1600/images.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was reading this book, part of a series, by a well known
paperback writer and I was about four pages into it when I found out a character
died. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like that. He's dead. I
flicked back a couple of pages to make sure I hadn't missed anything and that
pages weren't stuck together. I checked the series number of the book to make
sure I hadn't skipped a book in between - but no, the character was dead. I
avidly read on trying to work out what had happened, how the heroine was coping
and wondering what she would do next now that this person had left her life. I
liked that the heroine was pretty stoic, albeit heartbroken, about it and that
she was getting on with her life wondering what she was supposed to do as I was
wondering what she was going to do.<o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To me, this is a good writer and a good book. Make me think.
Make me wonder. Too few people write those books and when you find them, that's
golden for a reader. It beats the hell out of shag the heroine for 99 pages with
a plot on one page to suggest credibility. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-66936363651496985022014-03-31T16:58:00.000+10:002014-03-31T17:01:32.456+10:00Geoff the Stoic...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SYxNQaEos3M/UzkQUX-QEVI/AAAAAAAANm4/Fg3dQBqdfLA/s1600/be.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SYxNQaEos3M/UzkQUX-QEVI/AAAAAAAANm4/Fg3dQBqdfLA/s1600/be.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was driving past one of the local schools. I was thinking
how the school day seems to end a hell of a lot earlier than it used to when I was a
kid. Or maybe in reality it doesn't. I always wanted the school day to finish
approximately 30 minutes after I arrived and not at 3:30pm when it was
scheduled to end. I didn't care much for high school. I still maintain that I
would have been better going straight from primary school to working and
travelling overseas. But there were these pesky rules and regulations that necessitated
me turning up each day and attempting to pretend I cared.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway - my point is and I do have one - as I drove past the
school I was thinking about one of the high schools I went to for around 18
months - I'm an ex army brat. The school always gave one kid the responsibility
of ringing the end of day school bell. At <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Seymour</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">High School</st1:placetype></st1:place>,
it was a kid call Geoff. He was in a lot of classes with me - most importantly
the detestable math class that was at the end of the day. Geoff took his job
<strong><em>very, very seriously</em></strong>. I took his job <strong><em>very, very seriously</em></strong> because the minute he
stood up at 3:28pm every afternoon, in that dreaded math class, I knew that
soon there would be a reprieve and I'd be able to get the hell out of working
out the whole algebra, trigonometry and whatever whos-a-ma-jiggery problem I was
pretending to be working on.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; tab-stops: 264.75pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, the thing with Geoff was he
<strong><em>never ever</em></strong> rang the bell early. He was always on time...damn him. This is
probably why he got the job. The school wasn't silly. He wasn't an army brat who
would, undoubtedly, in a free spirited way who gives a crap way break the rules and ring the bell
early and then try and look all innocent-like. No matter how many pleading
looks we sent him, Geoff, stoic soul that he was, did his duty to the exact
second and never wavered. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; tab-stops: 264.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, what's the point of all this?
Geoffs keep us on track. Wanna get off the track? Ask an Amarinda.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-249762046222771732014-03-26T07:18:00.000+10:002014-03-26T07:18:29.061+10:00Weird dude on book covers...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJLSkw8HKgg/UzHxgnWcjTI/AAAAAAAANmo/clKc3oL70L8/s1600/51Ah5q3Nh4L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJLSkw8HKgg/UzHxgnWcjTI/AAAAAAAANmo/clKc3oL70L8/s1600/51Ah5q3Nh4L.jpg" height="369" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was reminded by author <a href="http://www.annycook.com/">Anny Cook</a> about this weird dude
that can be seen on multiple ebook covers. Which weird dude you ask out of the
headless men picture above? And why headless men? I'm assuming to buy the pic with a head
would cost the cover artist/publisher more money. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know about you but I would like a hero
with a head. I'd pay the extra for the head. I don't feel, as a reader, that's
asking too much. I can see all three men have abs and a crotch but bring me his
head - cranium that is, not dick.<o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway the weird dude we were discussing is the one at the
back with his torn 1980's style jeans and his button undone, seemingly ready to
either pee or drop is pants to dazzle some breathless heroine with his love
muscle. And Anny was right. I've seen him on a lot of covers so this begs the age
old question - do women buy ebooks because of the covers? Do they want a man in
ripped jeans and his hands on his hips as he balances on the balls of his feet
to make him look, I dunno, taller? More well endowed? Is this really what women? If so, then what is the story behind the cover going to be about? Deep,
spiritual messages? Man's inhumanity to man? Metaphysical forces in our daily
lives and how they shape our destiny? Or just a random sex with a weird dude
and his two buddies, legs astride and seemingly ready for action? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I dunno...I believe women
deserve a head.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-693917512932304272014-03-24T14:21:00.000+10:002014-03-24T14:23:00.144+10:00Boy oh boy, you're going to get us in trouble when your parents get home...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NJtlZa_sXa0/Uy-w0MUxh4I/AAAAAAAANmQ/rwNGHCet9Kg/s1600/CAM00354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NJtlZa_sXa0/Uy-w0MUxh4I/AAAAAAAANmQ/rwNGHCet9Kg/s1600/CAM00354.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I went to drop off some eggs at a friend's place in
between trying to mow the lawn and the showers that kept stopping me. I knew
they wouldn't be home so I went around the back and dropped off the eggs and
said hello to their dog Teddy. He loves everyone. The minute Teddy sees you, he
loves you no matter who you are or what you look like, he will present you with
a ball or a toy duck for you to play with him.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E3kHG_AldWw/Uy-w55KvTzI/AAAAAAAANmY/_W7-TDa00Co/s1600/CAM00355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E3kHG_AldWw/Uy-w55KvTzI/AAAAAAAANmY/_W7-TDa00Co/s1600/CAM00355.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I see him. He sees me and is excited. I'm not sure how he did it but in
his rush to grab this mangy duck toy he turns himself in such a way that he smacks
his face on some brickwork. Bloody hell! You had to go do that I my watch! Chooks
never do that. Undeterred Teddy presents me with the duck. He has knocked a
chunk of skin out near his eye. I said to Teddy, who, understands me completely,
"Boy oh boy, you're going to get us in trouble when your parents get home."
I had inadvertently broken their loveable yet clumsy dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teddy, despite a bloody looking non bleeding
gash in his skin just keeps nudging the duck at me with a look of "Forget
about them. I'm totally in love you with, now play ball with me." </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What is the point to this story you ask? Maybe it's that
dogs are simple creatures who accept things and move on. Maybe it's about the
fact that a dog takes every chance at happiness that he can get. Maybe if he'd
been a human, he'd be whining at the chunk of missing skin, annoying the crap out of everyone. Maybe we should be
more like dogs though possibly less clumsy when excited. I dunno. Maybe dogs
are better than humans in their acceptance of others.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, I did go back and check on him after the first visit. Yes, this meant I had
to play another round of throw the duck, then the ball with Teddy. Yes, I rang
and left a message with his homeward bound parents about what happened and that
I <strong><em>did not</em></strong> deliberately break their clumsy dog. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Yeah,
maybe a dogs life is pretty good. No worries, a thick skull and a couple of toy
ducks and life is as good as you make it.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-47203162224762928192014-03-19T05:31:00.001+10:002014-03-19T05:32:47.326+10:00When I grow up...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_JBAHh68Ht0/UyieWwu-HII/AAAAAAAANmA/RWpeLj7FIJQ/s1600/original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_JBAHh68Ht0/UyieWwu-HII/AAAAAAAANmA/RWpeLj7FIJQ/s1600/original.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I've been working this temp gig to earn some money
because for some reason the Lotto doesn't seem to paying me out millions of
dollars. Kinda weird really because that's why I play it but there you go.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was working with this woman yesterday - actually, working
is probably the incorrect term as we spent most of the day talking. After talking
to her I've decided I want to grow up to be her. Why? Because when she retired
she and her partner hit the road and travelled <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Australia</st1:place></st1:country-region> working odd jobs and
seeing the country and basically just enjoying the adventure. Currently she
lives on a boat in the Whitsundays and they travel up and down the east coast
of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Australia</st1:place></st1:country-region>
just going where they want and living as they please. No, they're not rich.
They worked hard all their lives and saved to get to the point where they
are now. Talking to her was like talking to myself in 15 years time.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I believe every so often life gives you glimpses of the future
to remind you that yes, you may be going through crapacious times but there is
a reason to it all so hold on and do what you have to in order for better days
to come. I believe...</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-33192147108603154692014-03-17T08:27:00.001+10:002014-03-17T08:31:04.332+10:00What is it with bullies?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocoKUj6sNC4/UyYkUJEVb_I/AAAAAAAANlw/QDkz4TTvb10/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocoKUj6sNC4/UyYkUJEVb_I/AAAAAAAANlw/QDkz4TTvb10/s1600/untitled.png" height="400" width="342" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had a face off with a bully yesterday. She thought I was a
victim. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe because I'm an average woman with average
looks and her need to try and pick on someone was transferred to me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent my childhood with a bully who tried to
stomp on my self esteem and destroy me. Bullies are like that. By their very
nature they are weak people who try to demolish the strength of others to
make them feel better about themselves. Get a frigging self help book or see a psychiatrist
I say. Unfortunately for the bully I faced on the job, I detest bullies and I
will never put up with the rot they go on with. I stood my ground and I dealt
with her letting her know I was the absolutely wrong person to toy with. I also
reported her actions because while I can look after myself another may not be
able to and she needed to be officially stopped. Tattling? No. Someone has to
say something to stop something. She got stopped.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, a woman at the gym was telling me about the stress of
a bully who was making her life a nightmare. After I left her I was wondering
to myself are bullies more recognizable now? By that I mean did people in the
past just suck it up and forge ahead, saying nothing as they got on as best
they could against the bully. I don't recall an outcry against bullies in school thirty or forty
years ago. Did that allow the bullies to grow up and create more bullies to the
point that they can be found everywhere and that has caused people to stop and
think about the evil of bullies and how they should be stopped? Is it that we
understand our rights more? Do we remember as kids that one person that pushed
us too far and stiffened our resolved to never be pushed that far again?</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I dunno. All I do know is if a bully tries to hurt you and doesn't
succeed, there will be a dozen more people that bully will try and attack. Stand your
ground and be the one who stops them. Yeah, it's hard work but you never want
that happening to someone else. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-84242193256678764222014-03-12T18:14:00.001+10:002014-03-12T18:19:30.996+10:00The engagement ring...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NPk4PySP6TA/UyAIekGl_UI/AAAAAAAANlg/6s74iFfAutQ/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NPk4PySP6TA/UyAIekGl_UI/AAAAAAAANlg/6s74iFfAutQ/s1600/untitled.png" height="398" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I'm working at a temp job at the moment. It involves liaising
with members of the public for a week and a bit and there is a hell of a lot of
walking involved. I have another person as my partner on this chatting-walking gig.
Never met her before today but she made it very clear to me that she, let's
call her, er, Charlene was doing the job to scope out 'talent' to find her future
husband. She wants to get married, she already has an engagement ring - her
Prince Charming does not have to fork out for this - and she <strong>WILL</strong> get married.
There is no maybe in this. Charlene is a woman possessed. I found her intense
need to hog-tie a man to her for marital-there-is-no-way-we-will-ever-divorce-wedded
bliss fascinating and scary. On one hand she knows what she wants - man,
wedding ring and to become Mrs Charlene X. On the other, in my opinion, she's
scary obsessed to the point of not being realistic. I get that some women would
like to be a 'couple' but there is also the fact that not everyone marries. Sometimes
fate just doesn't make it so. I did point that out to her. Charlene's thoughts
on this are because too many women get involved with ' losers' and give up on
marriage and 'fate' is stupid. I personally think women like Charlene, who are so
marriage obsessed, scare men away. What man wants to be driven to marriage? And
to have your own engagement ring to expedite the proceedings? Scary much? It
begs the question what happens to the Charlene's of the world if they do not
marry? </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-89196322523075554142014-03-10T14:53:00.000+10:002014-03-10T14:58:00.914+10:00In the state of what-the-fuckery...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SEA7hoIWyfA/Ux1A0beGFrI/AAAAAAAANlQ/02qWVZjUlBc/s1600/1625455_673400569384343_53696675_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SEA7hoIWyfA/Ux1A0beGFrI/AAAAAAAANlQ/02qWVZjUlBc/s1600/1625455_673400569384343_53696675_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
So life has been very weird, complex, difficult, different and
sporadic for a while. But that happens. It's probably all to do with the tides, the
moon, what colour undies you're wearing, what fruit is in season, the job
market and complex stuff like that. It's been trying. But I also keep trying
purely because as annoying as life can be, I can be more so.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jobs have been weirdly sporadic and since being made redundant
last year, I've done a lot of diverse things. I'm flexible like that. You
wanna pay me? Sure I'll turn up. No, I'm not much fussed what I do for the money
because I'm sure I'll be able to do it because like any hired gun
flexibility is the key and hell, longevity is not an issue. Like Darth McVader above. Give me a moment and I'm sure I can take a
crack at the unicycle thing. As for bagpipes? How hard can they be?</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I got a call from the temp agency today to do some work this
week and next. It's essentially telling people where to go. You know - directions
- go left, go right, go to the far queue. I said - sure, no worries. One day I
may get a real job but due to this cycle of what-the-fuckery that I find myself
in, I can be a temporary person once more. Pay me and it shall be.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-41326922115224829172014-03-09T12:43:00.004+10:002014-03-09T12:46:19.492+10:00Er, no...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nHQdqxUVgkc/UxvSm93m4YI/AAAAAAAANlA/nWeyIz3f4FI/s1600/imagesOYC7N4O9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nHQdqxUVgkc/UxvSm93m4YI/AAAAAAAANlA/nWeyIz3f4FI/s1600/imagesOYC7N4O9.jpg" height="321" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I just came back from the hairdresser. I like going
there as I can read all the trashy magazines, especially the old ones from last
year. I like to read over the horoscopes to see if anything that was predicted
in 2013 actually happened. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm a
Scorpio. It was predicted the following would happen to Scorps...</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You will find the great love of your life - <em>er, no.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You will marry - <em>see above.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- Great wealth will come your way - <em>er, no.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You will want for nothing as the universe will answer your
every call - <em>I may have been asleep and missed that call. Was a message left?</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- Your dream job will come to you in an unexpected way -
<em>negatory.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- The end of 2013 and the start of 2014 is your year
Scorpio. I will be golden - <em>it's actually been pretty puce bordering on blech.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You will experience great periods of happiness -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><em>thank god for chocolate.</em> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You and your partner could expect a bundle of joy - <em>hmmm,
if I could find this partner I would ask him where this ' bundle' is and what's
my share.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- Your inquisitive mind will lead you down paths that will
see you accumulating great knowledge - <em>er, no.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You will be spiritually enlightened -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><em>no, unless the spirits were alcohol based.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">- You will want for nothing - <em>uh huh.</em></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like reading my horoscope but on the whole, it's pretty
much a load of bullocks. The love of your life? You find him or you don't and the
world still turns. Great wealth? Never known money to come to you without hard
work. Dream jobs? Ain't no such thing. Happiness? You have to be happy with
yourself or at least give yourself a break and accept you can equally stuff up
or star. Horoscopes. Enjoy them but believe them? Believe only in yourself.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-44002607152024492192014-03-07T08:34:00.001+10:002014-03-07T08:34:46.145+10:00Jeez Louise...
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-haVh5tWguY0/Uxj22PGheTI/AAAAAAAANkw/f6CDjizdQtI/s1600/run.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-haVh5tWguY0/Uxj22PGheTI/AAAAAAAANkw/f6CDjizdQtI/s1600/run.png" height="337" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I changed the route on my run this morning and ran through
the city. Only problem with this is you can see your reflection in the shop windows
when you run. Yeesh. While the fact you can run without dying is a good thing,
you don't want to be looking at yourself when you do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scary stuff. It'd put you off exercise for
life.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Exercise. Don't look - don't see - just do it. </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>"Exercise is done against one’s wishes and maintained
only because the alternative is worse." - unknown</em></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-90733830220133346112014-03-05T17:51:00.000+10:002014-03-05T17:51:46.346+10:00The dreaded 'I love you' thing... <br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8eU6RcewzvE/UxT6vOya1jI/AAAAAAAANkU/OjVlAPgAJYw/s1600/funny-love-pictures-for-her-89.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8eU6RcewzvE/UxT6vOya1jI/AAAAAAAANkU/OjVlAPgAJYw/s1600/funny-love-pictures-for-her-89.jpg" height="317" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span id="goog_1393533615"></span><span id="goog_1393533616"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I was reading this magazine article on why you should <strong>never
ever</strong>,<strong> ever</strong> be the first person in a relationship to say “I love you.” Why? Well, there are lots
of reasons, said the magazine writer, that indicate those three words lead to doom and <strong>doom is
bad.</strong></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why do we need to contemplate the perplexing who says “I
love you” first situation? Well, according to the article you apparently don’t want
to say it and not have it said back because it can be <em>awkward.</em> There’s also the issue of “I love you too” when its said too fast after your declaration of love. They say this can be bad because the fast "I love you too" can indicate panic from the other person. Panic is akin to doom, it seems. To counter this it
appears you have to wait for the perfect “I love you” moment and even if this serendipitous
moment does occurs, you can’t be sure that the object of your affection loves you
back because apparently they could just be trying to make you happy by saying
what they think you want to hear. See above. The after the fact “I love you” is a
minefield that must be negotiated carefully due to the need to please factor.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If by now, you’re still thinking – “Bugger it, I still want
to say <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I love you’" to someone, I say go
for it you crazy fool you but remember there’s the theory you’re not to say it until you’ve been on 5 dates and then it’s
better for the man to say it first because…well, I’m not sure. The article just
reckons its better that way as it gives the man the edge and feeling of control. But I gotta say if he says it and she doesn’t or she runs screaming away then I’m
thinking there’s not a lot of control going on there. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then there’s always the right way to say “I love you”
apparently. You have to create ‘a moment’ and never ever say it when you’re drunk.
Yep, I’d have to go along with this because drunks love everyone and sincerity isn’t
their strong point. You should also never apologise for saying "I love you" even
when he or she doesn’t love you back. I think you’re supposed to smile, be all
stoic like and make light of pouring out your deepest feelings and pretend your
heart isn’t <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stomped on by an uncaring sod
as you go off to get stinking drunk enough to say “I love you” to complete strangers
who will smile and pity you but it doesn't matter because you won’t remember saying those three words to them. And for god sake, if you do
say those possibly three doom ridden words, the article says don’t answer for
the other person. I’m not sure how that goes unless Bob says, “I love you, Mary
and I know you love me so it’s a done deal. You’re in this for life with me so don’t
even think of arguing with me because no man will ever love you as I do.” In this case I would say step away from Bob, no matter how much he loves you. Bob is a problem. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All in all, my personal opinion is it’s probably best if you just slug
someone in the arm and forgo the ‘I love you’ thing. I’ve said those words
and I’ve done the slugging someone in the arm thing. Go with the arm.</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-13863141187054921672014-03-04T18:08:00.000+10:002014-03-05T17:53:39.958+10:00Totally foccaccia'd....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jk50Q2iv6RM/UxV0XiS3B6I/AAAAAAAANkg/tonborWKxdY/s1600/untitled+(2).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jk50Q2iv6RM/UxV0XiS3B6I/AAAAAAAANkg/tonborWKxdY/s1600/untitled+(2).png" height="400" width="338" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, my computer has been at death's door for a while with it's
flickering, coughing, stuttering and flat out disinterest in any command I gave
it. I was nursing it along - ok, yelling at it - when it kept doing the dying swan
routine. Today, it carked it (died). It was, in Amarinda terms, foccaccia'd.
<em>Bugger</em>. But then, I thought to myself, <em>you have a back up laptop, you smart,
practical hoarder you.</em> I hauled out this ancient specimen thinking this will
solve all problems. It didn't. I turned it on, it spluttered, burped, groaned
and then died. Another foccaccia'd moment. I sighed. <o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A friend rang me a bit later and I told her what happened
and she said 'What next for you? Were you cursed by an evil goblin? Your life
is going to hell in a handbag.' Yep, life has been a tad trying of late and
stuff has happened that I could have lived without dealing with. But, all
things considered, two foccaccia'd computers purely means that I should expect
two good things to come out of said foccaccia-er-ing. Believe it and it will
be. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, I'm not on drugs. I'm a Scorpio.
We always regenerate.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-91878387785011293812014-03-02T09:38:00.002+10:002014-03-02T15:17:05.871+10:00The penis lover...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LN0NmRZjVyA/UxJu7b6eXiI/AAAAAAAANjw/MFZ53-kceRk/s1600/burn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LN0NmRZjVyA/UxJu7b6eXiI/AAAAAAAANjw/MFZ53-kceRk/s1600/burn.jpg" height="306" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was driving home last night after the basketball – which the
home team won – <i>amazing, Grace</i> – and I was thinking about life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, men</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> and all that male-dom encompasses, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">the battle I’m fighting and questions like </span></span></span></span>did I have enough petrol to
get home? When did I eat last? Lordy, I’m tired, tired,
tired. How much money do I have in my purse? And then, for some reason a person I
used to work with, maybe 10 years ago, came to mind. Why? I dunno. Her name was
er, let’s say Odette…yes, Odette. As I drove in the dark, I recalled the first
time I met her. I was working at Telstra – pukeable telecommunication company –
and I moved desks – they did that a lot at Telstra – think Titanic and the deck
chairs - to sit next to her. As I dumped my crap on the desk, she turned and said
to me ‘”I like penis – a lot and I’m very loud and I’ll drive you crazy.” My
response to that was “I’m happy you like
penises. I have no personal objection to them. However considering your ‘very
loud’, I’d prefer you don’t bring a penis to the desk and get all excited 'cause I will have to tell
you to shut up.” We got on well, me and Odette, the penis lover. I’m not
sure what happened to her in the end. There were lots of stories about Odette. I
do know the very last time I saw her she had come stomping into work, a
plastic bag in her hand and the charred remnants of her work uniform inside. “I
set it alight last night,” She said to me in a casual who-gives-a-crap-tone. “Good one,” I
responded, because I always enjoy decisive action. She then marched up to management, handed them the scraps of uniform and
then left the building, head held high and undoubtedly thinking about the
pursuit of penises. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, what does that all mean in the scheme of things and of me,
driving home in the dark, contemplating life? I think it is supposed to mean
that it’s okay to set things alight to in order to move on and that sometimes
you have to declare your intentions and your desires – be they penises or not –
and just get on with who you are as a person without thinking about petrol, food, the arseholes you battle or tiredness because you only get so many chances to burn bridges and to right
wrongs. It’s all just about declaring who you are, defying those who don't like that and then keep moving regardless
of what's ahead. </span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-45466978558233572162014-02-28T08:40:00.003+10:002014-02-28T08:40:34.011+10:00Weird thing the universe…<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-THxJqLfaVfw/Uw--WaMI4NI/AAAAAAAANjg/QqrjkrFr3Tw/s1600/karama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-THxJqLfaVfw/Uw--WaMI4NI/AAAAAAAANjg/QqrjkrFr3Tw/s1600/karama.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That past year has been bloody hard. It’s been all about endings,
stopping, starting, fighting, standing up for honour and another’s reputation
regardless of personal cost – and it’s been about Karma. I’ve found every time
I inch forward I’ve been shunted hard backwards or slammed to a stop and
directed on another path to blunder along with no map to follow. Jobs have
fallen through but then I’ve been so busy fighting for someone else that I realize I wouldn’t have had time to work at a job. Information has dropped into
my lap just when I thought my research had run dry. Lies and half truths have
been put forward and the universe has shoved them into my face to investigate
and realize the fabrications put before me can be defeated and that I will win
for the right reasons. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don’t mind dealing with Karma. I understand the universe –
but I swear, once all this is over I just want a couple of weeks without drama.
Do you hear me universe? And Karma? Love ya, but back off. <span></span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-48054880783515497012014-02-26T08:10:00.001+10:002014-02-26T08:18:09.781+10:00Arizona? Quit bullying people. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lcbKGo6Mkhg/Uw0TwhtqV0I/AAAAAAAANjQ/NsgvmsD4UXM/s1600/bully.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lcbKGo6Mkhg/Uw0TwhtqV0I/AAAAAAAANjQ/NsgvmsD4UXM/s1600/bully.jpg" height="299" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Years ago, when I was a young girl, I was continually told
by my brother that I was fat and ugly and all his friends said I was the ‘ugliest
girl they knew’. This went on for years. I won’t lie. Those words crushed me as
a child. But I never showed it because I wouldn’t allow a bully to see that I
was crushed or that I feared his words. I endured to spite him. It was a relief
when he left home. Why do I bring this up? I believe my strong beliefs and views on
human rights and equality were born from this bullying. It made me who I am –
an individual with definite beliefs and opinions who will not stand quietly and
let things slide. Anyone who has ever been bullied will not stand and allow others
to be treated the same way.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I read headlines like this, I instantly arc up... </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer must decide if she will sign a
bill allowing business owners to deny service to gay and lesbian customers."</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2014/02/25/politics/arizona-brewer-anti-gay-bill/">http://edition.cnn.com/2014/02/25/politics/arizona-brewer-anti-gay-bill/</a></span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This essentially reads as ‘someone’ must decide if other human
beings with certain defined sexual and romantic preferences can be allowed to
go into some places of business and purchase good and services. <b> What. The. Fuck.</b> How is this right? How is
this having respect for other human beings regardless of what they think,
believe or act? How can you slam one group of people and deny them rights? And
to wrap it up in some talk about<i> “as long as they (the shop owners) assert
their religious beliefs"</i> while they’re denying someone else their own particular
beliefs to me is bullying in its worst form. It’s saying <i>‘well, you can’t be
normal like <b>us</b> so I’m not going to interact with <b>you</b> and I’m going to make you
feel ostracized because I can wave a moralistic banner saying my god allows me
to do it.’</i> <b>Bollocks. </b>Remember when people were fervently denied human rights
because of the colour of their skin? Remember how much we look upon those days
as appalling and wrong? How is it okay to cite God to smite down people who
just want to love who they love because it’s their right to do so as a human
being?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you have ever faced a bully, you know and I know, you bear scars that will never allow you to let another person feel the same way
you did. Arizona?
<i><b>Quit bullying people</b></i>. </span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464509310028636226.post-66466913886562614422014-02-25T14:33:00.002+10:002014-02-25T14:33:48.615+10:00Damn! No magic decoder ring....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-opYeCj9TQr8/UwwcXuWhwgI/AAAAAAAANjA/7N8LT99mR4Y/s1600/diploma-gold-brown-18320065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-opYeCj9TQr8/UwwcXuWhwgI/AAAAAAAANjA/7N8LT99mR4Y/s1600/diploma-gold-brown-18320065.jpg" height="400" width="336" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I got this ornate, whiz bang Diploma from the US of A announcing in
impressive gold letters that I was now qualified to do the job I had just
stepped away from. What it means is I could do the practical part of the job
without any problems – hence the Diploma, the membership card, the sleeve
patches, car stickers – alas, there was no magic decoder ring - bummer. It also means I
can use that Diploma anywhere in the world to do that particular job.<span> </span>Why did I leave the job if I passed the
practical? Because I suck at the theory. I’m a doer. I act. I move. I sort. I
fix. I don’t stuff around analyzing the theoretical prospects of something. It’s
not me. If you want the problem fixed fast – come see me. Just don’t expect me
to write the medical specifics utilizing Latin words while saying the politically
correct thing every time as I pick from a multitude of codes to label the
problem. That ain’t me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I looked at the whiz bang Diploma one last time and shoved
it back into the large envelope, along with all the other whizz-bangery and I
put it on the shelf in my office, never to probably see the light of day again
and I move on ever practical in my approach to life.</span></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://amarindajones.blogspot.com/google0cbd4098fb476cec.html</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12012768592941285677noreply@blogger.com0