Longest Monday ever...

I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring ~ David Bowie

It's all just a means to an end...repeat that 17 times over, Amarinda.

Zombie free zone...

So, every zombie called in sick today at work. On a Monday. To be honest, being the only one in the office was like a normal working day because the zombies never speak unless they are in fear of missing out on free food.

The world’s second most boring man, let’s call him Lester, who is in the Sydney corporate office and I do not answer to in any way, shape or form, called me, to justify his existence, after I sent the email to Sydney advising I was the only one in the office today.

Lester: - So, no one but you is in the office?

Me: - Correct

L:- So, zombie one isn’t there?

Me: - No

L:-Is zombie two also away?

Me:- Yes, did you read my email?

L:- Yes I did. Is zombie three there?

Me: - Did I write that he was on the email? I wrote no one in the office but me. By no one I mean not a soul, nada but for me, on my Pat Malone, bugger all, zombie free.

L:- I wasn’t sure when you said everyone was away that you meant the whole office.

Me:- Uh huh

L: So, no one’s coming in?

Me:- No Lester

L: - So, it’s just you?

Me: - Correct

L: - No one else is expected in?

Me: - Is there a point to this conversation Lester?

L:- what do you mean?
Me:- what do you want, Lester?
L:- just checking who’s in.
Me: - dead silence
L:- So, you’re not expecting anyone in.
Me: - dead silence
L:- So, it’s just you?
Me: - Bye Lester

Reply email from Lester. “Thank you for your email advising the absences in the office. Please advise when the staff come in to work today.”

Fuckwit.

Oh, the unspeakable horror of Monday....

If each day is a gift I'd like to know where I can return Mondays.

Shortest horror story in history: Tomorrow is Monday.

Mondays are God's punishment for what you did during the weekend.

Just once, I would like to wake up, turn on the news, and hear...'Monday has been canceled, go back to sleep.'

On Mondays, I'm always f*cking thankful I don't have a swear jar.

Monday is a dreadful way to spend 1/7 of your life.

It would certainly make my week a lot better if I was off work every Monday...somebody needs to make this happen...

I could...

....happily stay at home and watch Laverne, Dulcie and Ursula, the chooks, all day...

Looks like we're overly bloody picky...

So, I was listening to the radio on the way home in the car the other day when the announcers started talking about redheads. They asked people to call in if they had dated a redhead or would they date a redhead. It turned out a lot of people were not attracted by redheads and the main issue seemed to be that they didn't want to have a redheaded kid. I don't know. In a world where so few people find real love and we all crave it, we're awfully bloody picky about how we want someone else to look when in reality none of us are that bloody good looking and we're all flawed in some way. I want real. I don't care about what colour it comes in. 

Oh, and by the way it's pukeable Monday... 

Unspeakable day...

Something something…

I expect today to be difficult. I've thought about how I will handle it and it's guaranteed to be messy. It always is when I have to speak my mind and explain I simply will not accept less than I believe I am due. Yes. I’m difficult, unusual, an individual, fearless, stupid, amazing and completely justified in all I do. For a second I had a moment of worry about ‘what ifs’ and can I go back to square one yet again. I can - and when has life never had ‘what if’s’ in it? So there. It’s going to be a messy day. And it’s a Monday. The perfect storm.

Oh, and where is my cheque Ellora's Cave? For god sake just bloody pay me what I'm due. It's not rocket science.

Frigging, rat-faced, crapacious Monday….

It’s @#$*!%^ groundhog day again. Monday – such an amazingly pukeable day. It’s the start of a whole, stupid dumb week with no hope in sight. Yes, I have a problem with Mondays. No, I don’t expect to get over it any time soon. If I get a crack at ruling the world I swear on a packet of Tim Tams no more Mondays….they will be forbidden and never spoken of.

Whinge, bitch, moan…dragging feet to office….

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

Monday Morning....

- wake up to Katrina and the Waves singing “Walking on Sunshine” on the radio alarm…am not…bugger off.

- Look at self in mirror – scary….wonder about term – ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’…maybe alcohol helps that.

- Swallow pills designed to speed me up

- Try password in computer 3 times – then 4 – 5th time works…good, can’t deal with computer people at 4:30am. Too many hard questions.

- Walk around the suburb for 30 mins telling myself that this is a good thing because this 30 minutes may extend my life by 30 or a least by the equivalent calories in a chocolate bar.

- Answer emails - ask questions, annoy people, read blogs

- Shower – why is my body not looking better after that 30 min walk?

- Wander around in towel for 20 minutes doing stuff

- Decide I cannot wear towel to work

- Look at possible work clothes

- Wander for another 10 minutes in towel

- Decide assassin black is always good for a Monday

- Found red and white socks – yay! Cannot wear Doc Martens without my magic socks

- Send part of current wip to work to continue writing there and make me look busy

- Checked Twanna La Fawn listing at P & E poll – 16 – not bad

- Make boring salad for lunch – feeling virtuous.

- Left home – drove out of driveway….did I lock up? Yes…no….yes…no…stop car and go back home and check…yes

- Park at work. Look at office. Go to coffee shop instead. Tall, skinny, double shot latte required

- At office – trapped for 8 hours - write, chat on line, answer occasional work question when unavoidable

- 4pm – knock off – okay it was 3:45pm but no one saw - spin wheels as I speed out of the car park

That was my day – how was yours?

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If you have voted for Twanna – thank you. If not – please click on the link below and head down to the ‘L’s’. http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelerot.shtml. A vote for Twanna is a vote for all mankind. How so? Because we need more Twanna LaFawn’s in the world. Why? Because their shy, one could almost say ‘invisibility’ makes us reflect on the loudness of our lives…yes, complete crap but I am a writer….

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www.amarindajones.com

Go Ahead : Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Save me from Mondays......

Monday – pukeable, boring, snoring and thankfully over. Do we wish our lives away? Not me, I always want something better and Monday isn’t it.

That’s it…the day was so pukeable I have nothing to tell you. I am off to write about vampires….and yes for those who asked for it, Temperance and the gang make a return. No idea what I’m talking about? Few people do. However, click on the cover and take a squiz. ‘Course the thing is just because you write it doesn’t mean a publisher will want it. I think if you believe that with every submission you will get a contract then you need to re-think the whole writing deal. That's insane. Probably only JK Rowling doesn’t get knock backs… but I bet she had ‘em. That which does not kill me makes me strong or so insane that I no longer care....is that how the quote goes? Whatever....

Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.” -- Edward Gorey quotes

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

Arse dragging day…

An Unbreakable – adult - moment…released 30th May through Ellora’s Cave

“Harder…I need more.”
“Sugar I am going to make you scream your lungs out as you come.”
“Oh yes,” India Blake moaned as she wrapped her legs tighter around the man’s waist. His cock was lodged high and firm inside her. It was exactly what she needed. Her three-speed, power-thrust, ruby-red Rabbit vibrator was good but it was not the real thing. She needed the heat and power of a solid human cock. Nothing beat that. It had been so long since she had ever felt this primed to be taken. The force of his thrusts made her body bounce up and down on the hood of the car she sat on. She could feel herself sliding back and forth in her own juices.

I put in a cover request for Male Me. It’s a ménage that will be released through Resplendence Publishing. What did I ask for? I said ‘go wild’. I don’t agonize over covers or ask for the impossible. I figure cover artists know better than me what sells. So, I can hardly wait for the cover to land in my inbox.

It's all good…this is a phrase that annoys me. Have you heard it? Of course you have. It’s generally said by people at a point when nothing is all good and generally everything is falling to crap. I assume people say it to keep themselves sounding optimistic but to me it always comes out as sounding pathetic. Example – house burnt down, leg broken running to flee the flames and the rescued cat in the person’s arms has gouged the person’s face in its panic. But it’s all good. Huh? How can it possibly be? You’ve lost your job but it’s all good. What? Your lover has left you for the trollop down the road – but it’s all good. Seriously? Look, I’m all for being stoic and optimistic but to me this is such a pathetic phrase. How is it all good? Please explain...

Dragged myself into work today and I mean dragged. You know those mornings where you can barely throw clothes on and the ones you do, you’re convinced they look crap on you but you don’t care enough because it’s only work and it’s not like anyone is going to see you that you care about and even if they did they would know better than to say you look like crap. Correct - its Monday…pukeable, pukeable Monday….abandon all hope…until Friday, that is…

KJ, a reader, asked me why didn’t I put an excerpt from Tantalizing Tilly, releasing January through Ellora’s Cave, on the blog when I showed the cover off….hmmm…not sure, I suspect I was having a dizzying spell or something. Thanks for asking KJ – here it is….and it’s very, very tame… I thought I should after the Unbreakable one.

Tantalizing Tilly...the tame excerpt...

Tilly Moor was pleased with her efforts so far. She was pretty sure the target had no idea she was trailing him. But then, nor should he. She had been doing this job for many years now and she believed she was damn good at what she did. Hiding in plain sight was an art. Tilly dipped her sunglasses down her nose and watched him as he turned down Eighth Avenue.
“Yep, that’s where I thought he would go,” she muttered to herself as she waited a moment before following. She did not want to follow him but she had no other choice. Tilly had a problem to sort out and she was not one to shy away from unpleasant things. As she put one of her Doc Marten boot shod feet down on to the metal grate set in the pavement, she felt it tilt dangerously beneath her. She looked down in horror.
“Oh shit!” Tilly yelped in panic when it gave way completely beneath her. She plummeted helplessly downward, knowing the landing was going to be painful and yet there was no way she could stop it happening or prepare herself for the fall. She closed her eyes and hoped for the best.
The best was she landed in the outstretched arms of a man. The worst, she had no idea who he was or what he was doing standing in an underground sewer tunnel in the middle of Brisbane city. Even in her less than sane world, that was not normal.
“Hi,” said the tall, blond man. He grinned at her widely.
“Hi?” Tilly struggled in his arms as she tried to free herself. “Who the fuck are you?” She turned her head and glared at him as she tried to break the hold he had on her. The arms that held her were like steel.
“I was just passing by,” he murmured pleasantly as he held her against his chest.
And what a chest it was. Tilly could feel the rock-hard pecs against the side of her breast. She was disgusted to find herself getting all girly and giddy at the firm, warm flesh pressed against hers. Get a grip, woman. He’s a weirdo standing in a sewer.

“And you just happened to be standing in an underground sewer?” She slapped at the arms that held her tight. “Let me go.” It was weird being suspended in the air like this. Tilly had no control at all and she didn’t like it one bit. Added to that she was amazed he was holding her not inconsequential weight without any effort at all. She had heard that crazy people did sometimes have supernatural strength. I always attract the nutcases. Why me?
“I saw you falling.”
“So you immediately stretched out your arms to catch me?” She looked in the vivid blue eyes and saw amusement. How dare he be amused by this?
“Lucky huh?”
“Bullshit.” She smacked his chest and wriggled to free herself. “Put me down.”
“I like holding you.”
The way he said it in a deep, husky voice made Tilly suddenly hot all over.
“Put me down before I poke you in the eyes.” She held her fingers up threateningly.
The man shrugged and gently placed her feet on the ground.
“As you wish, cariad.” He set her down carefully but kept his hands on her shoulders.

Cariad? Tilly looked up at him. Whoa. He was much taller than the average man and he appeared to be solid muscle under the black knit t-shirt and well-faded jeans. His dark blond hair could be best described as shaggy but neat and the plain polished metal stud in his ear gave him a rakish look of battered elegance. He smiled at her as if amused by her perusal. It was an awfully nice smile and a delicious looking mouth. It had the full bottom lip that she found sexy in a man—if she was interested and she wasn’t. Tilly dragged her eyes from him and looked around for a way out. Be proactive and find a solution and not reactive and panting at the hot guy. The hot guy in question suddenly pulled Tilly to him.
“Hey, back off, mate,” Tilly snapped in anger and shock. The shock was due to the fact that the heat from the body plastered tightly against hers was seeping into Tilly’s senses and her sex-starved hormones were going crazy with delight. She pushed her hands against his chest in an effort to stop feeling stuff she did not want to feel.
“Shh,” he dropped his head and whispered again her ear.
Oh boy. The hot breath skittered teasingly over her skin. Tilly felt an instant tightening response between her legs.

…and, as they say, stuff happens…

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

Reality...does it work for you?

- reality is the poor man's drug. Want a head spin? Deal in real life dramas. That will get your mind whirling and you heart thumping and it costs nothing but maybe a brown paper bag to blow in if you are hyperventilating.
- want to walk on the wild side? Speak you mind and so what trouble it lands you in – trust me - lots

Someone sent me this quiz yesterday and the questions interested me. Go try it out - quiz. I am apparently 96% real according to this quiz. Now – this is not necessarily a good thing as 96% real gets me into 100% of trouble. So how real are you and is it better to be less real and live an easier life. Reality – does it work for you?

My God – Monday – can it get any realer? What's to love about about this god awfully pukeable day? A psychic once told me I needed to learn to spring out of bed every day because my life would change when I did. Oh please....this morning I caught the big toe of my left foot in the right cuff of my flanno pj's - don't ask how - I'm not sure - and I fell flat on my face in the shag pile rug on the floor in my bedroom. Spring out of bed? The best I can do is fall ouy and do no major harm. But it seemed apropos for a Monday.

I drove all the way to work thinking - turn around - flee, run, hide - it would have taken so little to turn Ida, my car around, as I sensed she would have been with me in whatever madcap thing I wanted to do. I think it's important to be one with your car. Anyway it was one of those Thelma and Louise moments but for the fact I’m not driving off any cliff for any reason. Anyway, I didn’t turn around - some good girl instinct kicked in – I hate that when it happens - and I did the go-to-work-thing. Yes, I know everyone hates Monday's and most people find their jobs pukeable and I get paid and the blue bird of happiness will probably swing by and free me from the crapiousness of my job as my prince on the white horse arrives with the glass slipper…yeah, I’m rambling. It’s Monday. I’m entitled.

I got whistled at today. I am in two minds about men who wolf whistle. Firstly I think grow up and are you taking the piss? (Aussie for pulling my leg) And secondly, against every rad fem instinct I have I think - really? Me? In my assassin black? On a Monday when I feel like death? That's attractive? Yes, life is a conundrum isn't? You think - how rude of you to whistle then you do the girl thing - gee me? Yes, I snapped out of it pretty fast. However I have this basic belief that because I am a woman I believe I am allowed to have conflicting opinions because genetically it's acceptable to balance out female hormones…and if you don’t believe that then shut up.

Mind you not that I would have taken said wolf whistler up on his offer. I have just got to the stage that I am not interested in taking up with any man because it all seems too difficult. I don’t follow up flirting or calls or moments because I like living alone. I thrive on it. I don't want to encourage any man. I have this measure of peace in being alone that outweighs other considerations. I guess it comes down to what price you will pay to be comfortable and at this stage no man has managed to match that and I expect won't because I'll suspect I will find reason to up the price so he can never compete. I believe some people are hopeless romantics - I am a hopeless realist. Hmm…a bit frigging deep for a Monday but there it is.

Someone is on the television right now talking about ‘numbers’ and how they can guide your destiny and that by following your numbers you can change you life. You know, it’s based on your birthdate etc and you only have to pay someone X amount of $$ to tell you how to live your life. By adding and subtracting you apparently get your ‘life lesson number.’ My theory – and it’s free - add up every hard lesson you have learnt in life, divide it by your shoe size and then get the ice-cream out of the freezer and eat it while counting your toes. I guarantee things will look better.

That’s it – short and sweet – like me – okay – the short bit is true. Monday – over and done with. When I rule the world I will abolish Mondays and we will all only work two days a week for the same pay. Now that’s my kind of reality.

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

Monday frigging Monday....

Things that annoy me….

I was watching this 1950’s black and white movie on television this morning before work – puke, spew - while I exercised – puke, spew. The heroine was holding her own against the bad guys while the hero went off and did heroic stuff on his own against overwhelming odds as heroes do. Anyway he fights his way back to the heroine getting the obligatory shoulder wound on the way – I say obligatory as a hero cannot have a life threatening wound, his noble visage cannot be marred and if he gets shot in the shoulder we get to see his manly torso as his shirt gets ripped off to save him. So the hero is just about back to the heroine and he gets into a fight with another bad guy. The heroine watches and she shrieks the hero's name over and over and over as he fights the evil doer. What is the point of screaming – Jim! Jim! Jim! Terror stricken look. Jim! Jim! Jim! Biting fingernails. Jim! Jim! Jim! Shot of angst filled eyes. Jim! Jim! Jim! - over and over again when she could have walloped the bad guy with the gun she was holding? And it’s not just in old movies. You see it today as well. Why does the heroine get the role of incessantly screaming the hero’s name as he fights? What is the hero supposed to do? Stop and say. “Yes darling, what is it?” Or “You go pick up the kids I’ll be just a moment.” It’s the most inane stereotypical rubbish. Why does the heroine become this spineless, wailing ninny? You don’t see the hero wringing his hands and shrieking the heroine’s name as she battles evil do you? I resolve only to have my heroines shriek in passion or if her Tim Tam supply is cut off.

Today at work…

It was explained to me that due to a re-shuffle, for the moment until things were sorted, someone would be sharing my office. I said that was no problem. So a spare desk was put in and the male that was to sit there declared he would only sit there if he could have an enormous partition put between us. The office is not big enough for that and it would make if exceptionally stuffy even for a short period of time, especially as summer is upon us. I asked why? Three men had to be brought in to discuss the room partition. The reason?

M1 – It’s already been decided Amarinda
A – By who and why?
M1 – Well, by us and he needs his privacy Amarinda.
A – He never had privacy where he was sitting before. We all constantly walked passed him and could see everything he was doing.
M2 – People just need privacy.



A – I totally agree but this is work and in theory you should be doing your job and that does not require privacy (I don’t include myself in this as my personal stuff I do at work is completely different)
M3 – Well you insist on keeping the ladies toilets all female and private
A – Yes because that’s all about bodily functions and genitals. Is he going to be doing something with his genitals at his desk?
M1 – (eyeroll) No, he just wants to be left alone
A – From me?
M2 – Well – it’s just that women….
A – What? Smell? Do womanly things?
M3 – It’s more that you are – um –
A - Am I ugly?
M1 – no, it’s an age thing (terror stricken look the minute he said this)
A – (grabs notebook and pen to get precise words down from blithering male) So this is a case of my being 15- 20 years older and female. Interesting. If I was a young female then this would not be an issue? (The worker that we are discussing is physically 22 but with the maturity of a 12 year old)
M3 – Yes, I mean no, I mean you are twisting our words.
A – How so? You mentioned age and sex. I am happy for you to explain this further. (Writing notes down)
M2 – We will put this partition up Amarinda.
A – Will you? (Standard I don’t think so look)
M1 – Let’s just leave it for now and we’ll all think about it. (Holy crap she will take us for discrimination look)
A – (Damn straight I will look) Yes, you do need to think about it so more, I agree.


I know my days are numbered at this job. It’s an all male office and I do get tired of all the rubbish that goes on. I get tired of fighting it all. Yes, I could stop fighting and accept substandard conditions but that’s just not me.I just have to accept one of the jobs I have been offered and get out. Will I take them for discrimination if they continue with this crap? Yes, I will. I will not be boxed into a tiny corner to suit some male who cannot do his job adequately and is concerned I may query what he had on his screen during the day. Like I give a rats arse what he does. I don’t do my job properly so I am hardly the moral guardian of what’s right and wrong. I do however care about gender and age based issues. No one should be made to feel inferior regardless of age, gender or ethnicity. Luckily, I am not someone who does but many do and it’s wrong. As much as they would like to think so, the world is not run by young men with penises alone.

Anny has the talented Vicky Burkholder author of Prime Time on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly has the blog serial on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. My response when I read it was huh…check it out

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