Just in case because evil lurks…

So, I’ve sort of started to pack a bag to head down to Brisbane for training. I say sort of because the bag is on the floor and I’ve thrown stuff on top of it that should go in the bag. So far the stuff on top looks more than what the bag will hold but I expect with some jiggery-pokery I will get it all in because I am woman.

Yesterday, I passed by the coffee aisle in the supermarket and stopped and thought ‘What if I need emergency coffee at night and there’s none in the apartment they’re putting me up in?' I can’t go without coffee at night...in the morning...the afternoon…ten minutes from now…how will I cope and indeed how will the city of Brisbane cope if I cannot make a cup of coffee when I feel the need come on? So I bought a small jar for emergencies. Yes, Brisbane sells coffee. Yes, I’m sure I could go cold turkey. But I just feel it’s better for all concerned that I have emergency coffee the instant I need it. You don’t want me being all Mothra like and terrorizing a city do you? 

Sex...meh...

The truth is writing sex is hard and no writer, despite what they may want and tell you to believe in their 'about me' section, looks like the woman in this picture. Sex is hard to write and writers are generally people in sweat pants or shorts and t-shirts or pyjamas, their hair screwed up on their head, a pen behind their ear, wearing smudged specs as they try and think hot, dirty thoughts to type frantically before they forget what the hell he did to her with what, all at the same time as drinking too much coffee or coke or chocolate milk while kicking, with their unpolished toenail, the discarded sandwich, on a chipped plate, on the floor, where they put it because the desk is for scraps of paper with half scribbled notes on it all about sex. Just so you know when you read sex again…     

The effects of caffeine dependency....

So, I was asked by - let’s call her Penny - at the local coffee shop that I frequent, what I thought about Zumba. I said “Bunch of white women without any rhythm whatsoever.” Penny said she wanted to go Friday arvo after work but she was scared to go alone because she ‘might look silly’ and would I go with her? Hmmm,  me, a white woman without rhythm? Check. Scared? Me? Never. Looking silly? Me? More than likely but my care factor was negative 12 on that. Helping someone who needed help with fitness but was scared to venture out in lycra and made my coffee every morning? I could do that. Besides, she caught me at a weak point - over coffee.  So, Friday, we Zumba. Just another experience in life.     

Merde! Whatever...

I was sitting on the wall of the Cairns Esplanade, as I do every Sunday morning après run and swim, drinking coffee and watching the tide come in. I was also listening in, quite unashamedly, on a conversation between two French tourists. From what I could work out, from my high school French, it was all about another woman and a man and they were pretty pissed off at her because he shouldn’t be seeing her. I suspect he was supposed to be with one of the other woman. The thing that fascinated me about their convo was the word ‘whatever’ was sprinkled liberally among the flying French words.

Elle est moche. Je ne vois pas pourquoi il aime sa mais whatever.

Il peut avoir. Whatever. Eiffel Tower. Sacre Blue. 

Pierre veut simplement le sexe – vol au vent! Lacoste. Peu!

Whatever! Il est un cochon! Me donner gateau! Whatever. Croissant! Éclair! Merde!

J'espère que sa balle tomber! Whatever. Poisson!    

Whatever! J'ai besoin de café avec mon gâteau!

Me donner vin! Patisserie!!! Arc de Triomphe! 

Merde! Whatever! Pompadour!  

'Got milk?

“Why marry the cow when the milk is free?” My mother - probably every one’s mum, way back when – said this to their daughters. As a teenager, I knew what she meant. But also as a teenager I was way too focussed/obsessed on earning enough money at McDonalds to get me travelling overseas. Cows? Milk? Pimply teenage boys? Oh please, I have a goal and ambition. Sex? I don’t have time for that. I need money!

I doubt that whole cow analogy is used today. Sex is sex and out there and teenagers are gonna do it despite cows and milk and ‘what the hell has a cow got to do with sex anyway?’ I can hear some kid ask. Well, exactly. Sex is demystified and in many ways that's good because as a society we’re open about it – ipso facto that Fifty Shades of Gray drivel – yes, I can say it’s drivel because as I reader I bought it and it’s my opinion. And, while it may be a best seller, the main characters are immature twats. Anyway, my point is, and I do have one, I kinda miss the anticipationary (yes, made up word) illusion of the shall we/can we/should we/gee its naughty sex.What is the point of this post? Cows? Milk? Sex? Sorta, but mainly I believe we’ve demystified sex to the point that it’s like drinking coffee. 

But there is hope. I can now see a weird turn around in the stories that writers, especially ebook writers, are penning when it comes to romance. Oh sure there are still the diehard ones writing about one woman getting shagged senseless by five ‘protective’ non condom wearing, shapeshifter cowboys but romance seems to be creeping back in without the race to thrust something into a hole in the first three pages. Maybe we can have a cow, the milk and later on an orgasm too… 

Iron Woman...

Did my own Iron Woman this morning ~

• 5km run
• Random 30 minute, no particular style at all swim in the lagoon
• Bike leg replaced by two cups of coffee and a banana

The Ironman is on in Cairns tomorrow. It brings beaucoup tourist money into the city and that’s always a beautiful thing.

People...people who need coffee...

...are the happiest people in the world.

Just my opinion but what a load of…

…clap trap. While I do the indie author thing myself and I believe Indie books are just as good, if not better, than books published by the standard epublishing companies because we are less inclined to play with ourselves, I also believe that no one owes a writer a living. You have to fight and struggle to get ahead and images like this annoy me. Why? So it took you two years to write a book. So what? That doesn’t mean that it’s going to fly off the shelves due to the effort you put in and emotional clap trap like this picture indicates to me that a reality check is needed. Epublishing is a shitty, backbiting, hard business.  The hard facts are not everyone is going to buy your book. Many would actually prefer to buy a cup of coffee. If a reader does buy your book then be bloody happy and grateful. You had a win.   

As for equating your ebook with a cup of coffee poured by some poor bugger whose probably making only minimum wage working for a large blood sucking conglomerate who owns half the coffee in the world, don’t under estimate what each $3.50 can mean to the worker or the drinker. We each chose our own poison. For writers, it’s thoughts in head and arse on chair as keys are banged furiously as words spew forth as we look to make money from it. For the waitress who just wants to serve the coffee and get off her feet – well, if none of us were buying her coffee, she’d be out of a job. For the poor sod that’s had a shit of a morning and the only thing holding them together is knowing they can buy a coffee – you think they’re going swap that for a book? Get frigging real.      

Everything is relative. Emotional claptrap? Save it for your writing and leave people to make their own choices without that corny angst of comparing chalk and cheese. 

But then, that’s just my own sweet, shy opinion…     

The brains trust...

At work there is a group of people that is considered the brains trust. They do deep, analytical stuff that I’m sure is probably going to be of some huge scientific merit that will change mankind but can they find a new container of coffee? No.

I get a call at my desk. There is no coffee. Yes there is. I’m the office manager. I mange everything from toilet paper to the D-Day landings to expenditure to cars almost running into the building…that’s another story. Anyway, I replied with those enigmatic words ‘look in the bloody cupboard.’ Which cupboard was the response? I walk to the kitchen and looked at them, then at the cupboard then back at them. They looked at me. I think to myself thank the cosmos I have average, street level, rat cunning intelligence and can manage things like finding coffee. I point to the cupboard. They look at the cupboard and ask ‘is the coffee in there?’ Yes, I respond but I make no move towards the cupboard as I want to see what they’ll do next. They continue to look at the cupboard as do I because I can almost see the cogs turning in their head as they analyse the cupboard. ‘Is there milk?’ I point then to the big white thing called the fridge. They nod and consider the fridge. I then say ‘all good now?’ They make no move to get either the coffee or the milk. How long they stood watching the cupboard and the fridge I don’t know but I expect the brilliant of mind were calculating the wind speed variables of their move to the fridge and whether the displacement of the air around them could indeed have some butterfly effect on the rest of the world.

Out of town...

Flying to Cairns for a couple of days to annoy some people up there about jobs and accommodation…and then I have to sit on the wall at the Cairns Esplanade with a Gloria Jeans large skinny latte…that’s very important. It’s a thing I like to do. Drink coffee and look at the ocean. But while I’m gone the blog will not be empty.

So be good or be fast and have an alibi and a sinful tale to tell.

Amarinda Jones
Penn Halligan
www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

'Got to laugh or scream or maybe sit in a corner and rock...

Mad About Mirabelle – review

I’m sure if you’ve read any of my previous reviews of this Australian wonder, you know I’m a die hard fan of Amarinda Jones. Mad About Mirabelle is just one more to add to the “Things I love about this author” list. The enthusiasm in which her latest couple engaged in carnal sports was not only exciting but hilariously funny. Talk about two energizer bunnies. Flynn and Mirabelle had to be out of their clothing more than in. I love couples who are able to smile and laugh as they get to know each other. Appreciation of life is so evident in Ms. Jones’ characters that you fall in love with them immediately. Anyone who loves to smile while enjoying desire won’t want to miss this latest morsel from an author who continues to bring as much fun as she does desire to her work.

http://www.joyfullyreviewed.com/reviews/May08/
madaboutmirabelle.AJ.html

‘Got home last night and there was a card in my mailbox from Promptel that said “Service checked and everything working fine now.” Uh huh…I went inside and guess what? No dial tone – that was new – it was just the internet that was not working before – now the phone line was dead. I laughed my arse off….wankers… Saturday and the new connection to the rival company cannot come fast enough. So - off the topic of the as-useful-as-a-chocolate-fireguard-company aka Promptel. If you are an Aussie and want to know which company this is – email me and I’ll tell you who to avoid.

There is this big debate in Queensland at the moment – actually two – one is about a 64 year old child killer who is in hospital in a coma. This woman stood by as her mongrel dog of a husband raped a teenage girl then they both stabbed her to death. People are pissed – and rightly so in my less than humble opinion - that we are spending public money trying to keep this child killer alive. And no, the argument that she is a human does not wash in this case. She is lower than pond scum and doesn’t deserve a peaceful death. I truly hope there is a special hell for sub human people like this. Forgiveness for crimes like this? Never.

The other debate – the drought – the damn levels are dropping back down as no rain. People are now saying ‘why did the government have that day back in March where everyone could use water to do what ever they wanted to do with it for an hour?’ For those who don’t know, in south-east Queensland, we have been on water restrictions for yonks – yonks is a long time – do you use that as a time reference – yonks? We’re not supposed to use more than 140 litres of water a day and showers are cut down to 4 minutes. Though I did not participate in the use water for an hour however you like thing, it happened, and yes maybe it was crazy but we can’t be bitching about something that has happened. To my mind it goes into the shoulda-woulda-coulda pile of stuff that we need to move on from.

Dr Gozgo Zongo, apparently my good friend, sent me an email this morning. What did he want? First he asked if he could ‘trust me.’ Wow, that really made me feel special. Then he just asked that I send him $1000 so he could invest it into a new venture with me as his partner. What is it? Hmmm, not sure. Gozgo was a bit vague on that. Will I send money? Um, let me think…oh hell no. Who names these people and more to the point who would send Gozgo money? How many people do you reckon actually believe this shite?

For the past couple of days the coffee man who comes to our workplace has been most concerned about me. No coffee for Amarinda? Is she okay? Has she quit work? Is she on holidays? He was pleased to hear I was just ill and the thought of coffee was pukeable to me. As an old work acquaintance of mine, let’s call him Cedric, used to say, “I could puke all over someone’s shoes.” Okay, to be honest, Cedric said this a lot even when he wasn’t sick. He was a bit of a queen. So where was I? Yes – sick - miss a couple of days of an addiction and people begin to worry, not about you personally, but more about feeding your addiction. I suppose that’s sweet in its own, strange way. Beware the coffee pushers for they are truly divine…

Came home and cleaned this afternoon after work. No, I’m not sure either what possessed me. Maybe it was the home made cherry ripe slice that I bought at lunch time as I felt crap with this dry cough thing I now have – but I cleaned the house. Amazing, Grace. I do believe chocolate has restorative powers. What is a Cherry Ripe? It’s the nectar of the gods I tell you.

Someone sent me this long list of rules for something today via email…oh hard… I just deleted it as why piss yourself off with reading such officious tripe? Blessed be the rule makers as they need all the help that can get for removing sticks from their…er…anatomy.

So tell me – do you think Hillary Clinton ever had a chance of winning the Presidential nomination? My personal belief is that no matter how kick arse Hillary is she still doesn’t have a penis and there is a mindset against voting a woman in for the top job. Sure, political commentators can spruik on about how she has ‘balls’ but why does a strong, smart woman have to be perceived to have the suggestion of male appendage to be taken serious? We may have come along way baby but it isn’t far enough and what’s in your pants still rules.

So, have you checked out Anny and Kelly’s blogs? I am sure they are doing something very authorial..not sure, that could be a made up word. I’ll put it in my next manuscript and see if my editor has an opinion on it.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

You're not bloody sorry…

No, I’m personally not sorry for anything I do because I am who I am and there it is. However I had to deal with a pernickety phone banking system today. I have two bank accounts – no, I’m not rich. I wouldn’t be working if I was. I would be slumped on the sun lounge on the patio sipping wine and directing some luscious man to fix the concrete I still have not fixed and to wash the car etc. How much time does work take out of your life? Too frigging much. Anyway, one phone system at one bank is so easy to use and I use it all the time. The automatic voice understands what you are keying in and just does it. I like robots like that. The other is a complete bitch. Now while I don’t have a problem with bitches per se, this one with her supercilious voice was annoying as hell this morning. Every time I entered the numbers requested, she kept saying ‘sorry, please re-enter’- so I’d re-enter – ‘sorry, please re-enter.’ I tried 7 times to get this stupid robot to accept the payment and each time she kept apologizing but I just knew by her tone she was not sorry and I believe she was enjoying herself and I swear I heard her giggle. You know there has always been that theory the robots would one day take over the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t the start of it.

‘Ever had to back off from someone because you know you are going to say something you really need to say but you know that if you do that person will be hurt? How much do you keep inside you and how much to you just let out because keeping it in is killing you and you deserve more than what this person is offering you? I generally call a spade a shovel and I know this is confronting to some people. I still do it but of late I have been backing away from some people because I just want an easy life and getting caught up in their melodramas is just too time consuming – and I tired of wasting my time. Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself. I believe you must remain to true to who you are but some people make it damn difficult. You’re all probably too reasonable to think like this.

I have been working with someone who has been in their job since Noah built the ark. While this is a concept I’d don’t understand – the job – not Noah, all legends are interesting – I just wonder what this person has missed out on in their life. Maybe they never wanted more

than what they had. Maybe they were happy to settle – or do they consider it as settling? The whole concept fascinates me as I see this person holding on to the only thing they have ever known with a death grip. What happens when it ends? What do they do with themselves after decades of turning up at the same place every morning? Work, as you have probably guessed, is just a means to an end for me. I get no joy out of it and I don’t expect to. That’s just who I am. I am not my job and I get no added self esteem from it. I just wonder what happens to these people after years of service. What do they do? Are you one of them? Do you know someone like this? Please fill me, the rampant job swapper, in. I’m not saying there is anything wrong in it… I just wonder. Speaking of jobs – spookily on the radio they are asking people to call in about the most boring job they have ever had. I would have to say all…but then I am committed to nothing but myself and those I love.

I was reading a blog where the blogger was pissed off at turning a certain age. I really don’t understand why people worry about their age. Is it because they had certain goals they wanted to reach by 30 or 40 and they did not accomplish them? Is it that their life has not turned out like they wished it to? Well, whose life does? You make the best of what you have. Goals are great but there’s no point falling apart if they aren’t made real. I personally think age is irrelevant and that people who worry about aging make it worse as they get so caught up in what others think of them – who they are and what they should be. I’m 44. I am better and stronger now that I ever was a 24 and hell no, I would never want to be any younger. Work with your age – not against it. To me, it’s just not that big a drama.

Someone asked me today if I had one wish what would it be? My standard answer is another three wishes. They said – “no really, what would it be?” That’s what it would be. What is the point of one wish when there is so much crap stuff going on in the world? So on the whole I think this is a dumb question. Wishes do not come true anyway. Reality is the only thing you can depend on and if you want to change something you have to work at it. Tinkerbell rarely shows up in anyone’s life – though if you have seen her please tell me…I’ll order you some coffee to sober you up.

Speaking of coffee…the mobile barista person comes at 10:30am every day at work. They make damn fine coffee. I like my coffee strong and they make it accordingly. But sometimes it’s bloody hard waiting for 10:30am. Work has free coffee. It is like dishwater. How can one stay awake on that? Do you notice how hooked you get on stuff? One of my fellow coffee aficionados is dead jealous I can get a free coffee tomorrow as my coffee card is stamped 9 times and the 10th one is free. Can you picture it? A bunch of shaking women standing in reception at 10:30am with their coffee loyalty cards hanging out for coffee. I am a big fan of loyalty cards where every time you buy something you get a stamp and collect so many stamps then you get x amount free. Sure, I know that somewhere that freebie is built into the prices but I also don’t mind supporting local businesses who work hard and make an effort to keep customers and free coffee man is free coffee.

Best friend Ethel and I are winning the lotto - $30 million tonight. How do I know this? Because we are the best people to win it. Speaking of the goodly Ethel, she was a tad pissed off today and sent me several emails from her work to mine with some exceptionally colourful language within. She was so upset most of the words were spelt incorrectly but I understand Ethel email speak as she understands mine. Good thing is the job I am in does not have a profanity filter like a previous one I was in – so I did not get called into the IT office to have to explain her colourful emails as I have in the past…though I do enjoy coming up with excuses to explain bad behaviour. Thankfully I have had a bit of experience of that.

Reality is something you rise above -- Liza Minnelli

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?