I did not blog yesterday. Why? Many reasons which I will not bore you with. So I am stamping “never to be discussed” on Monday’s date and drawing a big, black line under it as well. Why? Because I Can…hmmm…good name for a book.
Okay – by the way it’s Tuesday. Why do I mention this? As much as I love Blogger that little bugger has problems with time stamping my blog entries for Down Under with the right time and date. So, as long as we all have that straight. If you are reading this it is Tuesday – unless you read it tomorrow then it’s Wednesday – ok?
Omens…
I was out doing my morning hour long tramp around the neighbourhood in the name of health and fitness and all things boring when I came across this unusual sight. You know how black cats crossing your path are bad luck and that ducks are good luck? Well what does a toy rubber chicken on the sidewalk mean? I stopped in my tracks and looked at it as it’s not something you see everyday. It was 5am and no one was around but me and the rubber chook. It’s one of those moments when you either contemplate your place in the universe and the existential eccentricity of a world beyond what our primitive nihilistic culture can fathom in our endless quest for meaning – or you step over the chicken and keep walking. A rubber chicken is, after all, just a rubber chicken – no meaning I can see.
"It just seems wrong Amarinda…
…you know to write about sex" – an acquaintance told me. Why? 'Well it just is." I see. When pushed she explained that she did not want to read about a man’s ‘parts.’ I suspect she met his genitals and not his arms or legs. The beauty of books is that they have warnings. This contains sex means just that. If you have problems with men’s ‘parts’ then by all means I would suggest you do not read about them. I would not expect anyone to read anything they are not comfortable with. I did ask her how she felt about things like Michelangelo’s beautiful sculpture of David. “It is okay but then ‘it’ wasn’t all out there.” ‘It’ I discovered means the man’s ‘parts’ thing again that are apparently so wrong to write about. Okay, good to know it…when I say ‘it’ I don’t mean 'it' as in a man’s ‘parts’ again but ‘it’ as in normal everyday language. It is most confusing to a simple romance writer. Sadly, my acquaintance did, to my mind, miss the point of the book as she was so focused on not reading about ‘it’. The book is romance – plain, crazy, muddled but essentially two people falling in love. Maybe she is subconsciously more interested in ‘it’ than she likes to let on....
Stare me out? I think not…
I wandered out to get petrol for the car and the lawn mower. Yes, exciting – not – but on Tuesday the petrol is cheaper for some reason unknown to all. Anyway, as I was filling up Ida, my car, this average looking woman was staring – well really glaring - at me a couple of petrol bowsers away. I locked eyes on her and stared back coolly. After a few moments she couldn’t handle it and she looked away. Never seen her before. Anyway I went inside to pay, clutching my discount docket (love those) and she came in after me. As we waited I felt her eyes boring into me. I turned around and said “Do you have a problem?” Amarinda – Queen of Confrontation. She got all flustered. I continued with, “I assume that you must otherwise you would know how incredibly rude and possibly insane it is to glare at someone for no reason.” She turned bright red and did not know what to say. Why would you glare with hatred at someone for no reason? I did have my Betty Boop t-shirt on – maybe she hated Betty. Anyway, my point is why would you do that? I don’t have a problem if you don’t like me. That’s fine. But at least have some reason in your mind as to why otherwise you look like a tosser. Oh. And by the way, I cannot be out-stared – just a warning if we ever meet.
On www.kkirch.blogspot.com – Kelly left us with -
Emmerlinda strode purposefully from the room, brushing aside the flower girls and the ring bearer. She elbowed the maid of honor and yanked up her skirts exposing her trim thighs, flexing under each deliberate step toward the minister. The minister in disguise....
"I know who you are Choltax and this time you won't get away with your evil plan." Everyone had thought the peeler was a weapon to contend with. They knew nothing about the weapon tucked in her garter. She reached for it and aimed for Choltax....
I’m going with…
Zoltan slapped Emmeline’s face. “You’re rambling incoherently. I told you not to drink so much.”
“They offered.” Emmeline clutched her head and felt woozy. She looked at the smiling half naked villagers that plied her with more fermented coconut juice.
Zoltan snatched the cup from her hand. “And for god sake stop chanting ‘Choltax must die’. The natives are getting restless.”
Emmeline looked blearily at Zoltan. “I love you,” she slurred.
“You are as pissed as a newt aren’t you?”
“I think I just ate one of them. They’re crunchy.”
“If we are to get out of here alive with the diamonds we need to agree with whatever Choltax says – okay?”
She hiccupped. “Okay.” Zoltan threw a cup of water in her face. “Hey!”
“You!” Choltax pointed at Emmeline.
Uh oh. “Yes?”
“We need a virgin.”
“Sorry, you’re out of lu-”
Zoltan quickly placed his hand over her mouth. “Emmeline would love to help out.”
She pulled his hand from her mouth. “Er – hello? Me a virgin? Was that you on our honeymoon?” She whispered furiously.
“This may be our only way out of the jungle.”
“I’m not sleeping with him.”
“No, I think he just wants to throw you into a volcano.”
“Oh – what?” Emmeline was rapidly sobering up.
“Seize him!” Choltax ordered.
Emmeline looked at Zoltan. They wanted a male. “Oh yes, Zoltan by all means let’s help them.” She watched as he was dragged to his feet.
“Emmeline, those diamonds belong to both of us.”
“Sorry what? I can’t hear you over the drums.”
What happens to Zoltan next? Is it likely his estranged wife will save his arse? Visit Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com tomorrow for the answers.
***Attention avid book readers – there be competitions on http://sandracox.blogspot.com/
Check it out to win.
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
The race that stops a nation…
It really does. The running of Melbourne Cup literally stops Aussies in their track. It happened again today. Everyone gathers around a television at Cup time and shouts and screams for their favourite horse to romp home a winner. Before this there is a wild betting frenzy as once a year mug punters have a flutter on a horse at the TAB – the betting shop. It has been said that Aussie’s will bet on two flies crawling up a wall. We’re risk takers and we love a chance. This is why we love the Melbourne Cup. It brings a nation together. For one day of the year we all pretend we know something about horses when of course we know stuff all. There are office sweeps, fancy dress and best hat competitions and lots of food and alcohol. Did I back a winner? Nah, but that’s not the point. It’s a tradition. A way of life. I love being an Aussie.
At work…
No one was talking to me today. Now, this could be a bad thing but maybe not as I am sure you will agree men rarely chat or make conversation unless they want something. It’s just been all overly polite nodding. Whatever…but the Wall of Wankerdom, as I have been calling it, has not gone up and the precious boy who cannot sit in a room with a woman is very, very quiet. I suspect he is worried any sudden moves will be his last. Who raises men to act like this? Or is it as I deduce on mass men become all feral and he-man like expecting a woman to back down at their testosterone fueled mob rule? Not this little red-headed duck.
Highlights of the day…
- bought petrol – it’s cheaper on Tuesday’s…no one knows why
- bought milk on the way home from work – carrot supply is holding
- quel horreur! The coffee shop ran out of bucket o’coffee cups! I had to buy two pail size cups in order to stop the left eye twitching. 
- It rained…for a couple of minutes…yes, it was exciting and wet. Who knew water came from the sky?
- Got three bills in the mail…excellent – don’t you just love seeing those window faced envelopes?
- Ethel emailed to suggest we rob a bank. She also offered to call in a bomb threat so I could go home early. The woman is proactive. Both options are under consideration.
- Got notification that I would not be sent obscene CD cover artwork today. What’s that you say? Yesterday I got sent, as part of my job, CD art with full frontal male nudity – today I got an email that stated “No penises today. Amarinda.” I defy anyone else to tell me they have got an email like that today as part of their job.
There has to be a pony…
This is an old tale…a kid came across a huge mountainous pile of manure. He jumped into it and started burrowing around, digging furiously. A man came along and said “What are you doing?” The kid replied, “With all this manure there has to be a pony.” So, this is my philosophy, keep looking for the pony no matter what crap is heaped upon you.
On the blog serial….
Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com left us with…
Emmeline tapped several sequences into her time adjusting watch, wondering why she hadn't thought of this solution before. With a wink and a flash of neon light, Emmeline transported herself to the beginning.
He was reaching in front of him for something heavy. Emmeline saw herself hiding behind the office fern. Yeah, time to fix the mess from the beginning....
Yes, bloody hell…what to do? I'm going with…
But as quickly as the image came to her it dissolved and she was standing on the parapet of a castle. A barrage of arrows flew past her ear.
“Get down you stupid wench,” A tall man in full body armour yelled at her.
Wench? Emmeline felt the wind of another arrow whiz by her nose. She ducked and not because she was told to. Arrows, armour and a castle. Probably not in Australia or Vegas anymore. “Where am I?”
“You are at the Castle of Morne.” The man responded as he continued shooting back arrows.
Bugger. “Okay, not what I expected.” Emmeline looked down at her time adjusting watch. The dial has spun around to the year 1207. Oops. “We’ll fix that.” Just as she reached over to adjust the dial back to 2007, an arrow shot her watch off. It smashed to the ground, shattering into a million pieces, as time adjusting watches were apt to do. “Oh crap!”
“You are from King Ethelred?” The man turned and looked at her with hope in his eyes.
“Um, ah…okay,” Emmeline murmured deciding to go along with what he said until she could think of a better plan.
“What news do you have?”
“Ah, yes, news…the King is well.” Emmeline said as she dodged incoming arrows. “He got a new crown that he’s mighty pleased about and the Queens is…”
“Damn it woman you know what I need to hear.” The man’s voice was filled with anxiety. “Did you bring it?”
It? Crap, what was it?
So it's now up to Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com? Who knows where this tale will go next?
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
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