First, suck up to the pope….

Darn, here we are in February, and i’ve been slacking on the blog. Actually, i wrote some posts, but the PMT quotient was too high, they take off paint at ten paces – anyone actually reading them would have their eyeballs exploded, and that’s not what we’re about. It’s not my fault, i caught thrush from being on antibiotics, and it makes a girl cranky.

So, what’s happening? Well, the thrush seems to be clearing, and The Thing’s reached 88,000+ words, which means only about 22,000 to go. I’m trying to make sure the first part is good before i wrap up the end. Currently, i’ve done my usual trick of putting a capable person into a situation where he managed quite well. Damn! No fun unless he’s having problems.

Aside from still being sure he’s gay, that is, but i figure there’s enough young men who read fantasy sci fi who that will resonate for, so his angst over that can stay. After all, I was never going to get the Mormon Church stamp of approval that the Twilight books got. (Yeah, how bad would that be? Mormon Church can’t find anything in your books about vampires that contradict their made-up bible? Though my books aren’t about vampires. Maybe that’s the trick – bloodsucking churches like books about bloodsuckers.)

Come to think of it, maybe i should go do a Bono? No, no, not put on pastel sunglasses and then put out the same album every year for the next twenty, or go live in Ireland because artists didn’t pay ANY income tax on royalties there (and you thought all those celebs lived there cos it’s a cool place? Oh come on! The scheme ran from 1969, but was recently capped at quarter of a million Euro per year) – i mean go suck up to the pope and get him to give up some of the church’s wealth.

Wait, Bono never actually managed that, did he? He just sucked up to the old dead pope for nothing – while he was alive, obviously – but old JP – the P was for Pervert – went back into his bedroom, thinking about all the hot black chicks in Africa doing it without condoms. Risking AID’s, unwanted children, and other disease, all because some wrinkled old toad who got off on whipping himself said so.

They were doing it bare because he said condoms were the work of the devil and that good Catholics would be driven from the church if they dared to even think about them. That’s what excommunication means – and yes, using a condom is reason enough for the Church to drive you out. I’m so glad i turned renegade Catholic before i became sexually active.

The pope then forced himself not to masturbate over the hot black chicks, by getting his rocks off with a belt-thrashing. Making it up? Me? I think not – they’ve just admitted it, Pope John Paul the Bent (the one who died not long ago) used to keep a belt in his wardrobe to beat those urges out. Or off. Some people actually orgasm from pain – makes you wonder.

Still, if i could get Pope Benny to back my book, it would be good PR. He’s got a taste for Prada and couture, maybe i could put some in the book. Repressed gayness whilst fathering broods of children will be huge in the Vatican, that part will be easy. Of course, the women are all very in charge of their own lives, and i’ve made a huge mistake: contraception is easy and available to all. *sigh*

See, i’m screwed,  people in charge of their own lives who don’t kowtow to God’s representatives on Earth – Pope Benny won’t go for it. Not unless i get rid of the strong women and the contraception. And even then, i bet the moment i say all i want is one papal ring, enough to flog to pay for the printing costs, Pope Benny will probably get huffy.

After all, the church didn’t make all that money by giving it to the poor!

Writing is just fraught with problems.

He likes it!

(pic via http://captions.illmeyer.com/)

© http://stinginthetail.wordpress.com

It’s Fucktard Time at The OK Corral

Have been watching Mr Whatsit get flamed – for what massive crime? (i hear you ask, in a neat literary device thingie.) Was it for abusing someone? No, for daring to mention his dislike of plagiarism, a subject i’ve covered before, (after one of my posts was copied word for word and put up on another blog site as all someone else’s work).

Despite saying he’s against plagiarism, he’s been accused so far of being in favour of censorship, against free speech, and – my personal favourite – of being a communistic Nazi. Wow, i thought, they must be saying that because he’s my consort.

I shouted, “Tell them you’re an anarchist monarchist!” and threw him an assault rifle. We don’t take prisoners in the Kingdom of Darkness. Who wants pet fucktards? You only have to muck out their stables. And feed them pony nuts. Wait, that’s Shetlands.

Fucktards aren’t half as much fun.

most blogs, you get gratuitous pictures of breasts - this is a gratuitous Shetland pony. I like ponies. It's my blog. I can have ponies. Do not get between me and my pony. My pony will take you down. Srsly.

I would much rather have a Shetland than a fucktard, and i used to help look after two of the little bastards. Shetlands, that is, not fucktards. I’ve been pony-crazed since rather young, so much so that my parents hired a pony for my sixth birthday.

I thought he was for a present, not for the day. Life pretty much went downhill from there, and this kind of pony-related trauma is why i need to invade Queensland. Ha, thought i’d forgotten?

No way, am merely biding my time, (slightly delayed due to elements temporarily beyond my control, like ‘the world’) then zip, the Queen of Darkness will be across the northern border quicker than you can say, “Would you like pineapple with that?” If not pineapple, it’s banana.

And they don’t ask, it’s just there – ubiquitous pineapple and banana. I was amazed when I moved to Queensland, and grapefruit disappeared from “breakfast juice” to be replaced with pineapple and banana. Strange people, Queenslanders, but for all that, i like them. Generally, they’re very down to earth.

Trapped here in New South Wales, I hesitate to criticise, in case the locals burn me at the stake. Am always wondering if i should play dumb at the supermarket in case someone detects a brain in a woman – or realises i don’t have a badly ageing tattoo somewhere and that i actually read for pleasure – and starts screaming, “She’s a witch, she’s a witch! Burn her!”

Wait, just saying that is pretty critical, right? I will spread the load – it actually reminds me heaps of Western Australia, my home state.

But wait…. before i lose it completely about my beloved homeland, someone deciding anti-plagiarism is a sign of censorship made me realise what’s going on. See, they’re not even in Australia! Yep, we’re in the middle of worldwide fucktard season. Ah, of course, that explains everything.

The bad news? It’s been going on since the dawn of time. For some reason, they won’t let me shoot fucktards, so i have to be content with laughing at them.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

you’ll have to speak up, i’m not home

Nothing’s funny. Hmm…

The next day, after 12 hours sleep…

OMFG – i’m alive again! I wouldn’t say i feel great, i still have a cold, but was exhausted, and am definitely better today. The drugs seem to be working too.

Aw - it was a stunt rabbit. Honest.

I am annoyed though. *there is a phoomph sound as a bunny not quick enough to get out of the way suddenly combusts as i glare at it* The local council told me that without photos of the prick the neighbour who cut the trees down in the park, they couldn’t prosecute.

I couldn’t ID him, it was dusk, even though i know what house he’s from. So instead of a hefty fine, they will … *drumroll* send out a letter. Gosh, how harsh. Of course, neighbour doesn’t give a shit, he doesn’t live here, never has, he bought the house to renovate and make a profit.

Once i come into my birthright as the Queen of Darkness, I’ll have neighbour strung up by his testicles. *me waving my arms around in an angry fashion causes a small child passing on a bicycle to self-combust*

Ahem.

Meanwhile, on Twitter, *smiles sweetly cos the PR people say i’m scaring you* there are 185 people i Follow. I’d like to follow more, but am finding some people really do post about nothing. Which you can get away with if you’re funny.

It seems to work best from those pretending to be cats, or fish. Or Amish. @sockington, @ericasfish, and @hotamishchick, for instance. All can be found on Twitter’s search page. Leave off the @ symbol or the Find People function doesn’t work.

Me, i mostly pretend to be human , even though i rarely feel like one. I mostly feel like an alien – though after all these years on this planet, I’m quite good at passing for human. A bit like a transsexual who’s not too tall, or bulky, and manages to get into the ladies’ loo without women hitting ‘her’ with handbags.  (See my dilemma over transgender naming here. I am not prejudiced, i’m just female.)

I’m pretty sure that I’m not actually human. Hell, i may not even be female – kids bore me, so do women who can only talk about kids or persuading some waste of space to commit to marriage. When i was younger i often found myself talking to men at parties.

They could at least talk about things other than persuading other men to marry them by any means possible – faking pregnancy was popular – and what kind of tablecloths they’d have for the wedding.

To my surprise, this is still the fashion today -   passive-aggressive emotional manipulation to get an apparently disinterested man to commit. We’ve come a long way, baby.

Women are touchy about women who don’t fit in – especially if they’re talking to men at parties. This means women will call you a whore – yep, i became a whore before i even got past kissing and into being bent. Mind you, being a sexually-inactive whore was preferable to being bored to death by women whose aspirations ended with the wedding reception.

Women are also touchy about nipples – for some reason women HATE women who show nipples. *rolls eyes* Like my nipples are deliberate. That would be a trick, making my nipples get hard on command. UP BOYS!

It’s a fricking physical reaction, Fangorella, (my current generic term for women who get off on putting me down), they stick out like that if something brushes against them – or if it’s chilly. It doesn’t mean i’m suddenly about to jump your partner – or that i’m feeling horny – it means there’s a draught! *coughs to hide the sound of the phoomph as another passing child explodes, and smiles nicely again*

Oh – feel i should add, i don’t mean i’m exposing my nipples at parties – like a quick flash to the blokes round the barbie – i mean that even in a padded bra, under a thick top, if i get chilled, they can stand out.

Anyway, enough about my nipples. Or not… wtf was i talking about?
Gosh, these drugs are good.

As if you couldn’t guess, this post brought to you by
the voices-outside-my head.

The voices-inside-my-head
are to be ignored – the ones outside, i listen to.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

toaster sex will rot your brain..

It gets funnier – people have had a chance to go through the list of  sites to be completely banned in Australia. One of them, Abbywinters, was winner of the Best Adult Site in Australia, the last three years running. On the front page, they say.

Parents, we recommend http://www.child-internet-safety.com
to ensure your children cannot access our site.

They’re not the only site that thought they were legal to be banned. Surprise, apparently nudity, breasts, genitalia of any kind, dentistry, and of course, toaster insertions, (a common kind of extreme porn, see previous post) are now completely illegal in Australia.

the dangers of pornography

They’ve even banned a site where women show their G-strings (thongs in US) above their jeans. I object to being criminalised just because i have illegal body parts – i didn’t know they were illegal when i incarnated on this backward planet.

A couple of fetish sites are on the list. We all know, one spank, and bam, you’re robbing liquor stores and raping passing antelope. Some gambling sites are banned, but not all – which is just as well, they’re not actually illegal. However, some take babies in exchange for chips – who knew? Animal boarding kennels are also verboten. Yep, i knew someone who put their kids in kennels accidentally,and took the dog on holidays.

They’ve banned a lot of ordinary porn too. (Men and women doing it to each other, no under-age toasters involved.) There’s a few others (about half) also with no apparent connection to kiddies.

Oh yeah, then there’s the geriatric sex site – lol. Omg, the wrinklies are doing it! That’s so hot, i think i’ll just… um… wow, look at how their baggy bits are all moving, like some kind of giant sea anemone. This is supposed to make me want to attack children?

A woman from a child advocacy group said that every fifteen-year-old boy in the country would be chasing this list of banned sites. gigglesnort!

Erm – leaving aside the very sexist assumption that girls are never curious enough to look at porn – young people don’t need a list to find porn. Or weird sites.

They can do it whenever their parents fail to supervise them on the net. Or at school, when teachers leave the kids alone on the computers which already have filters on them. Installing a Filter and destroying freedom of speech and expression in this country, won’t change this fact.

So i suppose i’m going to have to stop masturbating again. I don’t want to be busted, i’m a cleanskin. It’s alright, i think i can take this celibacy gig. I still had a sore wrist from all the wanking last week, after the toaster porn went hardcore. Who knew a woman could do double entry toasters?

Latest from the fundamentalist Christians, a poster campaign warning of the dangers of masturbation. They decided to try to hitch a ride on the popularity of the Lolcats.

toaster porn claims another victim

For those who don’t speak Lolspeak -kittehz means cats – represented here by cutest kitten on planet.

“Oh, no,” sez kitteh, “more cats will die.
The cats beg you, don’t touch the toaster.”

How do i know lolspeak?
it’s not hard to learn – they have a how to

© 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