darn it, do i have to be controversial?

I was thinking people respond more when i do cranky blogs, and then I discovered the in-depth reading stats for this blog. Woo. I thought maybe a new post would be read a few times over a couple of days – but no. One visit a day. I appreciate you coming, lol.

Oh – i was going to be a controversial grump. Well, gosh, i don’t want to upset anyone. What if i offend the Lone Reader? Besides, hormonal overload isn’t peaking yet, and if i don’t get it right, nobody will read. And then where will i be? Well, exactly – blogging in the dark is one thing, but blogging underground is another.

My last blog, (on a private site), took me about six months to build up a small following, so as I’ve only been going for about three weeks i really should be Zen about it. And it could be worse.

I keep reminding myself of that lately. About everything. Yes, we have to move, (the house has mould in it, and landlord won’t fix because would probably mean 10′s of 1,000′s of $), but it could be worse. We don’t have to, in the sense we’re  not being thrown out into the street.

Yes, i’m ill, (so’s Mr Whatsit – mainly from the mould, see Argh – My House is Trying to Kill Me), but that could be heaps worse – i have people close to me who are really ill, who can barely walk, or can’t at all, so i tend to count my blessings. This too shall pass.

In six months, i’ll have some more readers (or die in the freaking attempt), i’ll be moved (and let’s face it, better than this just has to be ‘the roof and windows don’t leak’), and my health is going to improve – whether it likes it or not!

There, i got quite rantish towards the end. No, rantish is not a word. I’m tired, my head is full of stuff (mucous, if you want to get personal), and my English (for a native speaker) often bends the language until it snaps. And now, i’ve hit new depths – arguing with the voices outside my head in public. (The voices outside my head are usually right – the ones inside are often deluded.)

Oh – and i’m tired because Summer Time ended, (daylight saving) the clocks went back an hour, and i forgot. So when i woke up and saw it was 7.30am, i thought, okay, i’ll get up. And really, it was 6.30, and i didn’t realise my mistake for 2 hours. Plus *looks very grumpy* i’m out of kilter because coming off Summer Time always screws my body clock up. *sighs*

Could have been worse, lol, at least i noticed the time before Monday. (I have a flu shot then – how exciting is my life?)

**********************

Then, i got a nice Tweet from someone, and a lovely note from a random visitor – that’s TWO visitors today – i’ve doubled my average! Yes, in your face, Al Gore, i will overcome.

Oh – and in further news from the Twitter front, your intrepid monarch has finally got bored with needling GuyKawasaki and unfollowed him -  i mean, ffs, the guy didn’t even crack a smile when i sent him my Twitter badge. Who else famous have i dumped? I still have Stephen Fry, Eddie Izzard, and (mah secret love) Bill Bailey. Je t’adore, Bill.

Oh *shows shame* i added Aston Kutcher and Demi Moore. They’re actually rather nice – and Demi takes some interesting pics. Shallow, moi? Honey, i am only skin-deep. Besides, he’s take-your-breath-away pretty (so’s she, but i’m basically hetero), and she takes pics of him. (All these people can be found by using Twitter’s Search function.)

I’m hovering on the 150 Followers mark – Following the same – but Twitter’s like the tides. I’ve learned my lesson though, i nearly posted on a conservative blog today, and stopped just in time – though i suppose cranky conservative traffic is still traffic, right?

Being a cranky “something far leftish” is more my thing, though i’m so far left, that i run into the nazis coming back the other way. I can’t decide what i am really, as being monarchist puts me right, then being anarchist puts me left.

Let me be queen, *best smile* don’t worry your little heads about the politics, and i promise, i’ll make it good for you.

Over here, in the Kingdom of Darkness, we have cake.

Bite Me (click to visit the wonderful CakeWrecks blog)

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

bad to the bone…

I’ve been going through my loyal Followers on Twitter again, (no rest for the wicked). Thank Heaven for Karma, which in this case is a neat program that sifts through for you. Woe betide those who aren’t stalking Following me, like i’m stalking Following them.

I ran it a few days ago, and deleted someone who had begun then stopped Following me. Next thing, i get a hey, what’s up, and he’s Following me again. Hmm. I re-Followed him. Today i ran Karma again. Guess who had removed himself again? Yep, lol. It annoyed me.

my Twitter Followers' badge design

See, the thing about Twitter, is that there’s a snobbery about how many Followers you have – especially when it’s lots more than the people you’re Following. You seem less needy, more cool *puts on Raybans to set the mood*  – like Eddie Izzard the last time i looked, with tens of thousands of Followers, and he was only Following one. That’s like being a glacier, that’s so cool.

Aside from the gameplayer who dumped me, I’ve dropped a couple of people out of my list, purely in self-defence, (they filled up my Twitterverse with too many hearty quotes or pleas for me to look at their stupid site). However, since i learned to read profiles before automatically following someone back,  i rarely add anyone who’s just an MLM person – i don’t mind if they are an MLM person, but don’t bash me over the head with it. We Agents of Satan need marketing people too.

I am up to 64 Followers *hands out sweets* and 115 who I’m Following (sorry, no sweets, not until you follow me, NY Times and CNN). Yes, my Following list keeps going up – I’ve got some fabulous folk I’m following – i love their minds – so i looked in their lists of who they Follow, for new people.

The other thing about Twitter? It’s more popular with working adults, rather than Generation Y – i know this because someone Tweeted it. Anyway, most Tweeple are over 35. There’s about 1.3 million 25-34 – then there’s about 4.5 million older than that. Including nearly half a million over 65. Me getting that mob of teenage boys was a fluke.

When i finally get to my turn to be an overnight world dictator success, i worry that all the good Followers will be refusing to take on anyone. I’ll end up being followed by people i don’t like, like the Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, who i saw on someone’s list today.

I contemplated following him, purely to make snide comments. Something  like “I know you bleach your hair. You’re really Chinese, go back where you came from, you censoring bureaucrat!” (He speaks the language and is installing a net filter just like the one they have, that stops democracy and YouTube.)

The invasion’s slightly delayed, the mechanic says he’s waiting on parts for the tank, and the vegetarians demanding plastic boots before they join my minions has put the annexation of the local coast back weeks.

This is my invasion ID – cool, huh?

it screams uber-bitch

Then…. well, logically, we should annex Sydney, but i really don’t like Sydney.  Can we go to Queensland instead?  *blushes at being found to not be that autocratic all the time* Ahem, I mean, we will invade Queensland next.

Oh – favourite find on Twitter – possibly anywhere, is Erica’s Fish, Merton.

Badge and seal are mine, made at  www.says-it.com -
all kinds of fun generators.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

they weren’t disciples…

…they were spammers -  anyone would think we’re on the net. However, only had to delete and block two of my Twitter followers.  The two brave men who rushed in to replace them turned out okay so far. Though ‘debt freedom‘ (something like that) is a funny name.

Follower is the official name for those watching me on Twitter. I know that, thanks to Eddie Izzard starting a vote on changing it to friends. I nearly said, but i want disciples, but i thought that might make my plans for world domination kinda obvious, and besides, Eddie might block me as a mad person.

Oh yeah, I stopped the silent stalking, and Twittered Eddie this morning- i didn’t use the F word once. *looks proud* I hope it sounded sane, i said, “here’s to wardrobe equality” and smiled nicely. He’d just said he was still a transvestite, and the wardrobe equality line was part of his act about 20 years ago – the last time i saw him. It was my little way of saying, you’re so fucking funny, i could watch you do anything.

Now Eddie does a nice blend of masculine and feminine, (including a very dapper beard) which he carries off with a suaveness i admire. He doesn’t pretend to be a woman, or ape women in some horribly twee male idea of what ‘girlie behaviour’ is. As a result – he is hot to women who don’t like emasculated men.

Unfortunately, most men who dress as women don’t do that. They try to be “like women” and wonder why most women can’t stand them. Sadly, the last time they paid any attention to a woman, she was acting like a 14 year old. Or a gay man.

the Unconvincing Transvestites from Little Britain

Men who dress as women are usually described as Transgender (TG) – wants to be a woman – or Transvestite (TV) – dresses as one but not all the time.

I don’t have any kind of problem with either – you want to have some fun blending genders in the bedroom or as a performance, you go ahead. Likewise, if modelling yourself on a woman’s body is the only thing that will make you happy,  i will support your right to do so.

However, as a woman, i find it offensive when someone who calls themselves a woman then gets to be one. Let them be something else. Let’s see if i can explain this properly without getting flamed too badly.

You saying you are a woman is like me saying i am now black. I’ve dyed my skin, had a little facial surgery, and am pretending to be Ghanaian. You would begin to laugh, right? Or you would be sick all over me. Either response is correct.

Or (like many TG’s i know) I’ll announce that i’m going to do these things in the future, so i look more authentic and can pass for black. In the meantime, i’m going to live as a black person and everyone has to pretend i am one.

Let’s all fall about laughing for a while rather than being sick, i mean, i’m obviously deluded, right? Sheesh, can you imagine, what any black/brown/whatever person that you tell that pile of complete crap to, is going to do to you? Saying, “But i’ve always felt i was African, deep down” in impassioned tones, is not going to help.

So why, as a woman, do I have to pretend that men (who may or may not be men under their clothes, and are men in their genes) are women? Why can they share my women-only changerooms, toilets, and gyms?

I don’t care if you did have the op – no, you are not my sister. No, you don’t get to be a feminist lesbian. Especially not when the only sex partners you have are other TG’s. Be proud of what you are. (Or find another name you like, but woman is taken.)

Unless you’re genetically female (or some blend), then you’re not even part-woman, no matter that your passport is a female one. I understand that without it, MEN’S homophobia would mean you’d be in actual physical danger, but it is like me saying i’m black and the government issuing me ID that puts race as black.

Being a woman is more than breasts, a working clit, and a self-saucing vag - which are all offered as options with male-to-female surgery now. It’s not just “Hmm, i think I want to be a girl.”

However – i will continue, (the above-outlined thoughts notwithstanding) to call my TG/TV friends women – because it makes them happy.

I’m a real woman, you see – I have some fucking EMPATHY. I’d like some in return. I’d like you to stop appropriating my experience – find yourself a new name – i don’t pretend to know what it’s like to be a man feeling you’re a woman, and i’d be a racist idiot if i thought i knew what it was like to be non-Caucasian – so don’t pretend you know what being female is like.

Ahem *gets off soapbox* I did warn you this week was going to be a doozy.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

Twitter got better

Despite my previous words, about being too scared to go back to Twitter and face Al Gore, I went back and deleted him, and Penn (Penn&Teller). I don’t know who most of the other people are still in my network, but you seem nice.

Sorry, Al, no offence, but you’re not my type, and Penn was too quiet. I did however, find Stephen Fry (who’s divinely funny). He has decided that the fake Eddie Izzard must be dethroned, and so he’s persuaded the real Eddie (who is surreal and so funny) to join. So i now have both of them in my Twitter network. Tres cool, huh?

And my ex in London is still relying on who he knows, pfft. I’ve been on Twitter three days and i’m already rubbing myself on the famous. Sorry about that guys. *offers towels* I feel i should add, whatever the Twitterquette is, Stephen and Eddie are quite safe as i’m too lazy to even stalk them online for long. Eight people are now watching me on Twitter even though i’m not doing much. I posted some experimental twitters last Saturday.

I twitted? Twittered, i think is correct. Then one Twats in the past tense.  I Twattered? I’m not sure of the language, and i’m pretty sure i just made Twitterquette up – easy to feel a right Twit *snigger* or should that be Twat?

So far my loyal disciples fellow Twitters (Twitterers? Twittles? Twitterati? Twits?) are all men, maybe they’re hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. It’s a text-based messager, so they’ll be waiting a while. Oops, i’ll type, my knickers just fell off! and i’ll giggle. This is the way to be popular, i’m pretty sure. Man, i am gonna lay waste to the Twitter Kingdom. Of course i’m naked, I’ll type, while comfy in trackies and slippers – would i lie to you? (note: this is humour/humor and anyone demanding text nudity will be blocked.)

It’s occurred to me that Stephen and Eddie might one day come here - i hope i figure out how to do pages before then, and how to change the bag on the vacuum. I should make clear, they aren’t watching me, i’m watching them. Spooky, huh? Yeah – join Twitter and feel like a stalker in three easy steps, hehehe.

There were a lot of men who used to spend their lives longing for a wardrobe malfunction and who never knew what to call it. Life has changed a lot. My grandmother lived through the coming of the car and the computer, among other things, (1901-84) – i’ll be able to say, i lived through the coming of the video, the camera phone, and the First Great Porn Wave. No, i don’t mean wave your bits at me. Or anyone else.

I just mean now all you have to do is take Google’s Safesearch function off, and you have porn. (It’s either in your Advanced Settings on your google page, or when you get a search result, you’ll see SafeSearch On, or SafeSearch Off at the top of the page. Shazam! Be careful what you google for.)

In the olden days it was much harder. Well, i dunno if harder is the right word. Sheesh. Language is a minefield. These things start so innocently, a throwaway comment here, next thing my email box is stuffed with penises. Pictures of them, obviously, not real ones. I would add, my email is not the same as the name on this blog, i don’t want whoever that is to suddenly be neck-deep in porn and me to be blamed.

*goes to look at twitter and say something more than”blogging and focused on food”*

OMG, bugger Al Gore! I have eleven watchers on Twitter! Ha, in your face, Al Gore, i don’t need you. *reads that over* I obviously didn’t mean actual buggery, i meant i’m shallow – and I wasn’t putting anything in Al Gore’s face or his anything else.

Jeez, this blog is embarrassing – what if Eddie Izzard is tremendously bored, goes for a wander among the thousands who have already added him on Twitter, and he reads this? Or Mr Fry does? He’s a delicate chap, if terribly cosmopolitan – i might affect him badly. He’s had that time in prison … wait, that was Oscar Wilde.

I better change this blog a bit, or people will point, say, yeah, she’s the one who made Stephen Fry look at porn. Assuming anyone has made it this far – after you all took SafeSearch off, you could be lost for weeks.

Ooh – 12 people on Twitter – and one is a girl! Hmm… she’s into inspirational texts, and seems quite popular. I wonder how many times she’s had to drop her knickers to get 42,000+ in her network?

Oh – i see, she’s selling something. Her version of ‘how to find happiness and success, *sound of gagging*, gee, do i look like a sucker? I don’t like people who think they have a mortgage on the Truth. Except when it’s me, obviously. I need to find the delete button.

Nobody’s ramming anything down my throat.

I didn’t mean literally, of course. Damn, language fucks with my meaning again! i mean fucks as in messes with. Not literally fucking with.

Oh look, there’s someone at the door! *runs*

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com