Monthly Archives: May 2009

Culling is too good for them…

It is possibly a sign of me getting more evil with age. However, i am smugly happy as the neighbour who cut down the trees in the park loses fifty feet of grassland and gains a reflecting pond that extends into his back yard. Over his property boundary, imagine that.

I try not to be too smugly happy, as smugness begets fucktarditis. Besides, it’s only just winter, the flooding isn’t bad yet. The ponds are only just filled, the driveways that spend most of the colder months under water are still only puddled. We’re watching with interest to see how bad the flooding gets, whilst hoping we don’t go under too. Sorta “we iz up yr hill, smirking at yr fludwaterz”.

The neighbour who cut down the trees, he’s got some serious flooding going on, thanks to he and the neighbour on the other side removing plants and trees in the park, and cutting the grass to bowling green lengths. That is, too short for a water meadow. This used to be a swamp, you see. They cut a few drains, but the shore has seasonal ponds and flooding.

The more trees, and grass let to grow a decent height, and natural marginal plants that do well in the brackish soil that edges the lake, the less flooding. So the stupid go under, because they want a nice line between their property and the lake, and weed out even full size trees that they consider ‘spoil’ their views.

Unfortunately, this place literally is a swamp, so one must expect seasonal changes with the water table. On the bright side, our bit of it is so windy, we hardly have any problem with mosquitoes.

Argh, just remembered, am going back to Queensland, land of the bugs that bite you. They have this thing referred to disparagingly as the midgie. It’s like a smaller version of a mosquito, they say.

Then you see the first angry red lump with blue lines leading from it, and stare, and your trusty native guide will tell you, “Midgie bite.” Like it’s nothing. They last for weeks, by the way, painful, itchy, and purple-red.

Naturally, being Queen of Darkness, in this topsy-turvy world, i have a natural concoction that keeps both those and the most evil mosquitoes away. I’m susceptible to mozzies – they love  my blood. My first six weeks in Queensland were a frantic search for something that would enable me to go outside without having to wear a mosquito net after dark.

I knew i was on the right track on a beautiful night in the sadly swampy Tweed basin, up on the NSW/Qld border, where i was outside, covered in my patent unguent, and not being bitten, while the mozzies went to the next victim in the chain.

Yes, i thought, victory is mine. Meanwhile, my friend was squealing as she got bitten and we all had to rush inside for her sake. So the moral probably is, it’s good to share the mosquito repellent. Yeah, and it’s just stupid to impose your artificial idea of ‘lakeside living’ on a nature reserve.

The book? It’s going well. This is me smiling in real life, because it is, and i’m not lying, saying “Yeah, great, well, i’m not doing great right now, but i have been, and the block’s are always only temporary…” Anyway, i’m not saying that, i’m just happy with how it’s shaping. And i want to get back to it now.

I just wanted to share my smugness… I’ll be enjoying it while i can. Yeah, before the floodwaters reach our place. These are tidal lakes, and we’re expecting king tides around the end of the first week of June. Lots of rain forecast, hoorah!

Yes, i know where my ark is – here at the Blog of Doom we believe in being prepared since that time we were caught completely unprepared, and discovered the state government was too. I’m sending Mr Whatsit out later, to stock up on chocolate to eat, and kitchen paper towel, to stuff in the leaky places.

Happy winter.

P.S. Mr Whatsit just saw some boys on pushbikes, none older than fifteen, try to break into the house across the road. He noticed them because they were making so much noise, he went to the front door. Six kids hanging out in at the front of the empty house were standing out a little.

To his surprise, they were trying to break in. He went out, yelled oi at them, and get this – they said, this isn’t your place. Well, no, it’s not, local fucktard child, but we’ll still stand up and say oi. Broad daylight. *shakes head*

The police were called, which was relayed across the road by Mr Whatsit calling it. The children seemed shocked at this interference by a neighbour who not only, they pointed out, didn’t own the house, but didn’t live there, and had no right to complain.

They were shouting this across the road as one continued to try to break in through the garage, in full view of and no more than ten feet away from the street. (About 3m.) No less than twenty or so houses could see what they were doing, including people out in their yard two houses away, and a real estate agent arriving to inspect the flood damage at the stupid people’s house. Mind you, nobody else said oi.

After some argument among themselves, (seriously, it was earnest, and audible from our place), the boys stopped trying to gain access over the side fence, or to lever the garage door open, and took off, jeering at Mr Whatsit, loud enough for the police on the line to hear.

Instead of heading for the nearest corner, not far away, they rode off up the hill, giving Mr Whatsit time to describe them all and their bikes to the cops.

Local fucktards in their natural habitat – on bmx bikes. Not one was over fifteen. I’m beginning to think retroactive abortion isn’t such a bad idea.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


i’m still alive… are you?

It’s Tuesday, if i had any sense, this would be Belgium, and i’d be sipping good coffee and eating lots of fattening things, but exercising heaps, you know, in that ‘omg, i’m in a new country, i better look around’ way.  Somehow, i would not really put on weight or get spotty, despite living mostly on chocolate and coffee, because overseas, it doesn’t really count. What happens in Belgium…

Unless you’re that Aussie woman who got arrested for theft of a bar-runner towel thingie in Thailand. Her friends claimed they played a joke on her and put it in her handbag. Oops, they all said, *gigglesnort* we were drunk and silly. Perhaps they meant cretinous. She nearly got five years.

“Let me just tuck something into your bag so it looks like
you stole it! Ha! Hahahaha hahaha!”

How fucking unfunny are drunks, seriously?

*******

I’ve been researching moving. Holy mofo – it’s expensive. It would cost about $2,000 to hire removalists. I could probably cut that to $1,000-$1,500 if i abandon most of my stuff. Doesn’t make any difference, i can’t get that kind of money together with the petrol money for two cars (to go 500 miles/800km) and the deposit on the storage unit at the other end.

If we try to hire a trailer, same problem – 3 day trailer hire and round trip to Gold Coast with some of gear, costs too much in petrol to save that money in one hit. (Mr Whatsit can do the journey there and back in about three days with one day in the middle to rest up.)

His ute can do it one way on a tank and a half , (ute is two-seater cab with open cargo back end) – with a trailer, triple that, at least. Nine tanks of petrol (9*$150)? Argh. No way can we raise that kind of money. So we’re back to about three trips in the ute, nice and gradual, with it possibly taking over 2 months. Bugger. I want to be gone, now.

Some time later…

Now it’s Wednesday. Have paid bills, done washing up, feel able to write without real guilt. Instead, i’m here feeling i should be blogging. Fuck’s sake. I’m gone again.

Later still..

WTF? It’s Thursday. I’ve been writing my book. Are you all alive still? Good. Um, yeah, well i’m writing, and i’m all locked away inside my head. I’ve dropped into Twitter but I’m elsewhere. And elsewhen, come to think about it.

Yep, it’s going well, but i’m in the first 10 pages, bit soon to get all “it’s going to be a rite-de-passage, yanno, and her struggles with identity are gonna… blah blah blah.”

I’m bound to come out from inside my head soon, but right now, i have nothing to say. (Though i’ll naturally answer mail and Tweets.)

If you’re looking for something to read –
check out the Index tab above.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Step 1: Join a gang…

Like much of Australia, (except those sceptics  – some of whom spoke up at the time), i was fooled by the Bogan Clare, AKA the Chk Chk Boom girl. She was a personable young woman supposedly a witness to a shooting.

The clip (on the above link) made me laugh as she described the fat wog shooting the skinny wog. Politically incorrect, but frankly, i don’t really give a fuck about political correctness. I’m not in favour of racism or sexism, but there is a limit.

I especially get annoyed when the Australian police are hamstrung by PC and can’t give a decent description of a criminal thanks to not being able to describe skin colour.

A guy did get shot, by the way, and she was in the area, (allegedly getting a “skank spot” tattoo according to her Twitter stream) but didn’t see the shooting – her friend may have. For those who don’t speak Australian:

  • Bogan = lower class, trailer-trash type.
  • Wog = derogatory slang for those of Mediterranean blood.

In this case, Wog was “possibly Lebanese”. Clare allegedly saw one shoot the other. Only it turns out she didn’t. *sighs* It was her attempt to be a celebrity – something she’s still working hard on (after the hoax has been outed), comparing herself to Paris Hilton.

Paris was famous for being an heiress socialite – before becoming even more famous when that sex tape got out on the net – not for lying about witnessing a crime, but hey, teens today so don’t get history.

Her language helped the clip go viral. I was lol’ing over the whole thing, and so were most i knew. Her performance is funny. She’d started following me on Twitter (after i mentioned Bogan Clare), and honestly, she seemed a nice person, if possibly more eloquent than in her interview – so i refollowed. Of course i suspect now  it was her PR agency.

Yeah, I am past naive and into Pollyannaworld here. I was so annoyed when i read about it being a hoax, i went to see if she was still following me on Twitter. The last thing Clare said on Twitter was (in response to someone’s question):

“I also do a mean imitation of Lindsay Lohan.”

I snapped at her, i’m afraid…

@clare_werbeloff apparently you do a mean imitation of a human being too, you piece of scum

I suppose that kind of thing is why people say i’m known for being blunt. Gosh, i was annoyed. Then i cooled off, but the Great River of Tweets never goes away.

I’m probably more annoyed at myself for not paying more attention to the things that i didn’t think rang true in the video.  She’s only a kid (19) – but people of all ages do hoaxes.

Meanwhile, as a would-be giant of the fantasy sci fi writing world, I’m thinking i probably have more chance of getting a literary agent if i infiltrate organised crime. Wait, let’s rethink this – if it’s organised, i might not get in.

So i infiltrate disorganised crime – easy enough, all i have to do is want to buy some grass, and thanks to that being illegal, this middle-class white girl will end up hanging out with criminals.

Like most people, they’ll be convinced i’m an undercover cop. I’m used to this, (nearly 30 years of me being usually the most drugged one, but apparently the most straight looking), and will convince them otherwise. “G’day,” the spiel begins, “I’m the Queen of Darkness.”

Dare i point out that most of these people wouldn’t have money to buy their fucking guns if it wasn’t for the illegal drugs trade? You don’t stop anything if more than 10% of the population are into it – unless you want a bigger black market problem than you have already.

With 25% of adults in Oz smoking cigs, the push to make it illegal (by banning it everywhere), is a bit presumptuous. With a third of Aussie adults having smoked marijuana in the last year, (despite all the wars on drugs), likewise, it won’t go away. Legalise it, take the criminals out of the trade.

Anyway, political ravings aside, I will become a celeb for witnessing some gang shooting – and will have to go into witness protection, never be able to show my face in public again. I don’t show it much now, thanks to my stalkers, lol.

I’ll be the Salman Rushdie of fantasy sci fi. Only it won’t be a fatwa, so not exactly like, but i can’t think of any other writers who have to be guarded. Armed guards and secret locations, never able to attend book signings or speak at writers’ festivals except occasionally under extreme security – with my protection detail ready to shoot.

Wait, this doesn’t seem such a bad idea, providing the crims don’t find me. I’m looking at it positively – it will make  the supermarket a breeze when i have bodyguards to look after the trolley.

So i’ll just go hang round some likely people, and wait for someone to shoot someone else. “It’s cool, man,” I’ll say, (as i try to blend in), “that was so fucking funny, let me put it on YouTube.” and providing they’re under 30, they’ll let me do it. Lol – these young peoples are so easy to manipulate. Celebrity, anyone?

I’ll capture the moment on my phone (even better than Bogan Clare, see?) providing i can figure out how to use the movie function between now and then. I’d love to tweet it, but suspect my phone can’t manage it, not being an I-Phone. (I must ask someone under 30 if it’s possible.)

May have to email friend and then she can tweet “OMG, @stinginthetail just shot a shooter!” or something.  So we get the hype building with a bit of misinformation. Just like the big kids do it.

This will be while  i run about the street in high heels, full warpaint, and a nice outfit, (*note to self, start new exercise program now), looking for a camera crew – and during this run, i’ll upload my movie to the net. (*note to self – must learn to use phone! Ask Nephew!)

I will use the Invasion Office Chair Fund (donations also taken for the Hello Kitty Kalashnikov Cake & Chocolate Fund), sell everything i own, and buy an I-Phone, because I’ll need to assume a new identity, and they probably have an app for that. *checks price of I-Phone* OMFG. Okay, i’ll sell Mr Whatsit for medical experiments, and then buy an I-Phone.

See, easy. If Bogan Clare had thought of this, or her publicist had, she’d be laughing. Instead of having to appear on A Current Affair for free, (Monday 25th May ’09)  – as if she was someone desperate – she’d be getting money to front up and be “interviewed”. I do suspect Clare has no idea how nasty the experience may be for her.

I will only appear with my face blacked out and my voice disguised, of course, as i’ll be on the run from the Mafia… or maybe a biker gang… or drug kingpins… or… who else might shoot each other? (No, i don’t mean i’ll put on black makeup – I mean they’ll block my face out afterwards.)

Well, if we had more guns, I’d have more choice, just like in the USA. I’d be able to tell someone to walk onto someone else’s porch, and blam! (*note to self, start working on catchphrase even better then Chk Chk Boom!)

And when i appear on A Current Affair, Tracey Grimshaw won’t dare be mean to me because i will have the video to prove it, and my special protection detail standing by to stomp on her.

So, that’s Plan B…. erm… what was Plan A again?

Has anyone been keeping notes?

This post brought to you by the voices-outside-my-head.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


zomg, don’t look, dead man humping

The net is a strange place. On Twitter, I said that horsesex is a bit like the Spanish Inquisition. It made sense in the conversation i was having. I meant in the sense that one doesn’t expect it, but on Google, sadly, it’s become the norm to search for something like pink lipstick and end up with a woman and a doberman.

I’d landed on a wiki page (i’m not sure what part of the whole wiki thing i was in, i just remember seeing “wiki” – i know that it saying wiki did not mean it was Wikipedia) that contained a movie of a man trying to do it with a horse (or rather, letting the horse do him), and succeeding.

The text mentioned that the short movie i was watching (with my mouth hanging open, i might add, i was stunned), was the adventures of a man quite famous in animal porn circles. (No, i’m not posting a link to illegal things. If you can’t use Google, you don’t deserve your own illegal things, besides, i got freaked and cleaned my computer after that.)

He’d managed to make this movie into a kind of snuff film too, by getting so severely injured internally that he died later (so i read). I wasn’t thinking it was a hot movie, but i’d been impressed purely that he was actually doing it with a horse. However, that bit of news took all the lustre off it. I keep telling you, some things are supposed to stay fantasies.

Okay, so that particular bit of the net, i’d rather not have slithered into, but generally I love the serendipity, the happy chances that drive my searches off into wild and wonderful places. On the other hand, for those who hate vagueness, and weird connections, there’s a new thing.

Wolfram Alpha is not a new wolf porn site, but instead a new kind of search engine that actually calculates results for you, does graphs, has algorithms, and doesn’t show you horsesex when you’re looking for politics.

For instance, if you type your first name into Wolfram Alpha, (at least this happened to me), it will assume it’s a name, then tell you how popular the name is, and show you (among other graphs and charts and scientific links) a graph of popularity of that name over the last 100 years or so.

Unlike Google, which will usually give you meanings for that name, porn stars with that name, bloggers with that name, highschool kids on MySpace with that name, and so on, Wolfram Alpha gives you bare facts. It doesn’t tell  you how the name derives, for instance, but how many people were named it last year. It’s supposed to be curated data – checked by people.

Wolfram Alpha falls over pretty fast at the moment, or is very ethnocentric – i can flummox it by typing in Western Australia or Population of Western Australia, and it gives me data for Western USA.  Here’s the creator’s blog about how, why and what.

I typed in Australia, and got the population of Western Australia eventually, (my home state), but it’s a tad user-hostile to my mind. Very nice streamlined-looking pages. However, i don’t know where they’re getting this supposedly-curated data, because I know Wolfram Alpha is wrong when it says literacy is at 99% in Australia.

As in the rest of the Western World (USA, Europe) – it’s around 75% for basic literacy and numeracy, (can read road signs, simple menus, and count to 100). One in four can’t read or do very basic arithmetic. Only about 50% of people can actually read well enough to understand a novel or a long blog post, or have the numerical skills to sort out their credit card or bank statement. Those are some shocking statistics.

Anyway, so despite the slickness, am not so far impressed with Wolfram Alpha – and its pretence at being the only answer or result, and the correct one, is downright misleading. It sited Canberra (Australia’s capital) some distance to the east of where it is, though that may be the fault of Google Earth which it was linked to.

Google Earth is rather notorious for not putting things where they should be, but it’s a good basic aerial map – though if you want accuracy and directions, I use Whereis.com but take into account (at least locally), that if they say 35 minutes travelling time, it will be closer to 40-45.

There are a few things that have come up with Twitter lately – things i knew, that other people didn’t. For instance, in this example, me typing to asilannax (who i’m just using in this example, not because she was someone i gave a tip to) about Gene Simmonds of Kiss….

stinginthetail @asilannax did you see him on the rock school programs? he comes across as really good at his craft

Me, i prefer to make friends (and Valuable Acquaintances) instead. I’ve been making friends on the net (then meeting them in real life) for over a decade – i know others who’ve been doing it for over 20 years. Twitter’s just a new method, before Twitter there were chat rooms and instant messengers.

One thing – maybe a difference due to age (am 48) – i don’t consider people i know on the net ‘real friends’ until we meet in real life. Until then, no matter how much i like them, i’m aware that they may be misrepresenting themselves. Like i said, i’ve been meeting people in real life for over a decade – weirdly, some people lie a lot. I’m better than i used to be at picking the really fake ones, but i still get fooled sometimes.

It’s always a relief when i meet someone in real life who’s pretty much as they are online – nothing worse than a ‘life of the net-party’ person who turns out to be so shy they don’t speak, or is so different from who they pretend to be online it’s hard to see it’s the same person. Like they’re shorter and heavier than they said, and a redhead not blonde, wearing a wedding ring when they said single, and so on. The online pic might be them, 10 years ago.

I am who i am in real life. Yep, bossy, loud-mouthed, (or if i was a man, i’d be assertive, lol), and with a tendency to know the answer. (And not too proud to Google when i don’t.) It’s funny, but i’ve been abused for knowing the answers to questions – the ignorant and the stupid really are the ignorant and the stupid.

Being the Queen of Darkness – which is not a hereditary post, i have to work for it – isn’t all beer and skittles. I have to listen to my subjects – Mr Whatsit gets cranky if i don’t pay attention to him at least once a day.

Other Twitter tips? We all know that if you’re quoting a Tweet you put RT @personsname, right? Just checking, as i’ve seen a number of what looked like attempts to ReTweet that made it look as if a person was typing a reply, not quoting. So if i say “sod off” and you RT that, it’s

RT @stinginthetail sod off.

That also means, if i say RT @username what is the weather like in Rio? that means @username wants to know – i don’t. So don’t send the info just to me, or i’ll have to RT it on your behalf to the person who asked.

With some Twitter clients, you’ll see (via @username) when someone’s quoting another person – which is the rather stupid way it shows RT’s – stupid because there’s an accepted format, and it’s not sticking to it.

The changes to Twitter mean that unless you’re following whoever i’m typing to – when i put @ on the front of the post – you don’t see that post unless you click on my name to see all my posts.

I sometimes put a character in front of the @ (like .@) if i want all following me to see it, if a conversation i’m having involves several. Don’t do it all the time – people who preferred the old option to not see all posts will unfollow you.

If you want to see if anyone’s replied to a question, perhaps it’s been there for 30 minutes, and you know the answer, but don’t know if it’s been answered, click on the name to see if they’ve perhaps answered someone that you can’t see. Alternatively use the Search on the right of the Twitter home page. Paste the person’s name in, click Search, and you’ll see all @replies to them.

Yes, basic stuff, but I keep running into people who haven’t figured them out. Not all of them were apparent to me when i first started using Twitter. It’s like any program, some people find functions, others don’t.

Once people figure out the basics, many stop learning how to use the program, or they misunderstand what commands do. And most are still convinced that somewhere on the keyboard there’s a button that starts the computer’s Self-Destruct sequence.

I’m getting used to Twitter’s changes, and can see the advantages, but i still like to see all the tweets of people i follow – i follow them because i’m happy to put up with all they say, even if some of it is not of interest to me. I only follow people i can stand reading. Gosh, i’ve rambled on a bit, time to prune this post and wind it down.

A last thought on Wolfram Alpha – if i hadn’t Googled “funny fascist” and ended up on Jenny The Bloggess’s blog, (she was calling her vet a fascist) my world would have missed a lot of what’s made me laugh hard in the last six months or so. I also wouldn’t have been sure that i’d be alright out on the net, and might have instead stayed blogging only on a site where everyone was supposed to be adult.

It would also have taken me longer to join Twitter, which i basically joined so i could read more of The Bloggess. Yes, i too am a sad stalker, but everyone on Twitter is – the one thing we all have in common.

I love how Twitter and Google bring the chance of synchronicity (meaningful coincidence) – showing us what we need to see, instead of what perhaps we were looking for.

Though i do wish Google had a more filtered search option than just Safe Search On or Safesearch Off. Sometimes it would be nice to put
“no snuff films, pls, Google, kthxbai.”

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Camel Toe for the Beginner

What’s in the news? Drunken footballers gangbanging drunken teenage girls? The Federal Budget? *yawn* i’m so over the real world. How about Texts From Last Night? This is my new favourite site of the moment. How could one resist this conversation?

(216): Where the fuck is Rob at, he hasnt answered his phone in like 2 weeks.
(440): Dude Rob died 2 weeks ago wtf?
(216): Holy shit r u serious? How?
(440): Just kidding, but im pretty sure he boned your gf and doesnt want to talk to you.

Or this bit of poignancy.

(404): I just poured my flask into a drink. Then I realized the drink belonged to the guy next to me so I stole it from him. He confronted me and I made out with him to distract him. When I looked up, I realized his wife was watching. Its barely 10:00.

We’ve all been there. Then there’s possibly my favourite conversation:

(212): i want you now
(916): you need to stop dating girls with the same name as your mother…or stop drinking so much…I don’t want to see this

You can see why i love it. If you get bored with Texts from Last Night, on the right of their page you’ll find Flickr from Last Night. Nothing like porn and other people to put everything in perspective.

Other things making me laugh this week include the Cute Food Blog – which makes me laugh in a delighted way and go ohh! Beautiful food pictures – the gingerbread house is to die for.

Then there was the Slave Control Software site, for those who would like to be sexually controlled, but are afraid of humans or perhaps humans won’t meet them in real life.

Some people have lost the  notion that sexual roleplay is actually just roleplay. That made me laugh then stop laughing as i realised it was for real. Well, as real as automated cybersex can be.

One can go all the way in the non-human stakes. No, i don’t mean one of those blow up sex sheep (real) or a RealHamster (funny funny funny) – i’m talking Real Dolls. These are carefully crafted sexually-accurate mannequins that are supposed to look realistic. For mannequins, i suppose they do. They come in female or male with just a torso if you don’t want all that weight.

Roxanne the Real Doll - wiki image

Roxanne the Real Doll - wiki image

The funniest part about Real Dolls is how much people pay for them. They cost over $6,000 US (approx 7,600 Aussie), and up. There was a documentary years ago about the female Real Dolls and the men who buy them, dress them, and take them on picnics.

Oh yeah, and have sex with them – you can buy spare vaginas or other bits, the ones that wear first, and when you wear them a bit thin in a few places, you can send them back for refurbishment.

If you belong to a dating site, you can bet you’ll see pictures of Real Dolls on them, but they’ll be pretending to be real women. People are strange.  Sexually, people are very, very strange. Me probably heaps more than you, I’m not being judgemental.

Unless you’re the guy who (tried to find link to his site, but i can’t) had the fetish of building models of skyscrapers, about 3′ tall (one metre) and then sitting on them. Not inserting them, just crushing them under his butt like a Godzilla who needed to sit down. Ooh yeah, baby!

I’m also not stranger than you, if you’re the chick with the octopus up her i saw yesterday. It was an accident, i didn’t go looking for octopus porn. I mean, me seeing it was an accident.

It might have been an accident, I suppose, I don’t know how she got the octopus up there. Perhaps she “fell on it and it just shot up there” or something like that. It looked alive, which was a scary thought.

You get a whole new kind of follower on Twitter when you say words with porn in them, like “porn” or even “sex”. You can try not to say certain words, or put a break in them – like por n or p*rn – but marketing, media, sex, porn, tentacles, PR, and SM are all words/initials i use. Though i mean Sadism and Masochism, they mean Social Media.

I lost five followers right after the below, i’m not sure if it’s coincidence.

@BernardKeane said “Apropos of nothing, I hate Deepak Chopra. Just saying.”

I Retweeted that, and added my own touch.

lol – while we’re confessing, Tony Robbins die die die
RT
@BernardKeane Apropos of nothing, I hate Deepak Chopra. Just saying.

Boom, five followers shed. I experimented with posting links to robot porn – among other things – and this one below, but nobody unfollowed me.

(warning – adult again) and the award for the most gratuitous camel toe pics goes to the camel toe eraser!

Camel toe’s okay, but you cannot diss Tony Robbins. There is no rhyme or reason to Twitter. Oh – camel toe? It’s when your pubic area shows bisected through your clothes. Like when jeans ride up at the front. The above link is to a place that’s giving them away for a competition. This anti-camel toe device, the Cuchini, (company motto Our Lips Are Sealed),  is a piece of i think latex that fits over your pubic area.

In extreme cases, camel toe can look like the person is being cut in half and possibly carrying watermelons in their pants. The last pic on the page is like that, plus they have a page of celebrity camel toe on the brand site – oh, and the Camel Toe Eraser is basically a shield to stop your bits being cut in half.

Some people like the flanged look – there are porn sites for camel toe aficionados – others (a majority, and yes, me too), think it’s a clothing faux pas. Like budgie-smugglers on a bloke, camel toe means having to view a stranger’s genitalia. In uncalled-for detail. Like this. (That means avert your eyes now. Well, soon.)

Budgie-smugglers are very clingy, very brief, men’s swimwear.

budgie smugglers at YourDemocracy.com

budgie smugglers at YourDemocracy.net.au - they mean real budgies, but the pic suits my purpose. Click for a story on Customs thwarting bird smugglers.

Makes it look like there’s a small bird (budgerigar) they’re smuggling. Well, occasionally a big bird, but not if they’ve been in cold water.

Before i go, something wonderful – I’ve found Hello Kitty Hell. It’s the story of a man whose wife is a Hello Kitty fan. It’s brilliant.

Hello Kitty tattoo

Hello Kitty tattoo

Now you’ve found it too. Neat, huh?

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


a message to my minions

I feel i should write something here because i’ve done bugger all on Sunday except chat on Twitter. It’s was enjoyable, though, so wtf. Weekend Tweeting tends to the cheery. Everyone in the world except me and Mr Whatsit was watching Eurovision – oh, and except the USA. For once, they’ve missed out.

Let’s not kid ourselves, Eurovision is tripe, trash, and tawdry tripey trash at that. But it’s a good laugh, especially when you have friends to share bitchy comments about it.

Mr Whatsit refuses, says it’s like the Olympics. He hasn’t explained what aspect. But he refused to watch that either. I’m in agreement about the Olympics, but how can a man who loves Family Guy not get Eurovision?

Mind you, when i used to watch Eurovision when i lived in London, i could never watch much of it – it was the kind of show you channel-surfed in and out of – too dire to leave on. It’s only famous because one year, Abba won it.

Ooh *shiny thing moment*- look, i have a new badge. The lovely Badge and Sign Generator site is back. A new design, considering our new circumstances.

to visit the site, click on badge.

to visit the site & make a badge or sign for yourself, click on badge. it's all free, nothing to join.

I’m thinking tshirts for those who contribute to the Invasion Office Chair Fund. Rifles Office chairs don’t grow on trees, people. And i still don’t have a decent office chair. As minions, you lot are seriously lacking.

You’re supposed to (pay attention this time)

  1. Fawn – i don’t think most of you have fawned much at all.
  2. Be obsequious – the grovelling just isn’t up to standard.
  3. Offer to buy me cake. (Or chocolate.)
  4. Make donations to the Office Chair Fund.

You’re not supposed to

  1. Laugh when i say i’m invading Queensland
  2. There is no 2.
  3. But i wanted some extra points under ‘don’t do this’.
  4. It makes me look stricter, and you lot could do with some discipline.

If the link to says-it.com isn’t working, give it some time – the guy who owns it has been doing a heap of work bringing it up to date. He’s also been in hospital, so don’t be cranky, he’s doing it as fast as he can.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


are you my fucktard-of-the-moment?

Here’s a list of what i might blog about

  1. family… probably not, they may find this blog, besides, my neuroses – and theirs – are something to expose in my fiction.
  2. housemate… no, funny as he is, he has blog address.
  3. landlord… nope, already worried they might read this and figure out a tenant is getting ready to quit.
  4. people on Twitter… gawd, no, not again
  5. people in real life… people? lol…. real life? not at the moment, i’m in limbo.
  6. how much i hate religion or the pope… done it to death, really, though no doubt at next stupid proclamation like ‘condoms cause AID’s!’ i shall probably say something.
  7. sex and politics… nah, something different
  8. fucktards… wait, that might work. People never tire of fucktards and rants about them

Well, they might tire eventually, but it can be entertaining for simply ages. So, what is a fucktard? We are all fucktards at times, we all struggle with the Fucktard Within.

For instance, i back out of a parking spot, nearly collecting someone driving past. I am the fucktard, i didn’t look, or i did look once, then was distracted, and didn’t look again before i committed. Screech of brakes, thankful lack of actual collision and a mea culpa on the fucktarditis. We all do it.

We nearly have that nasty accident. We realise before we light the match that the gas has been on for too long, and decide to just turn the gas off and open the house. We’re about to gun through an intersection as the light changes, and instead stop in time, and avoid the result of our own stupidity. We all have that moment, or the several moments.

Acronyms on the net turn all of us into fucktards. In the overuse of them, and in our misunderstandings of them. Like the woman who thought LOL meant lots of love – and found out it meant Laughing Out Loud only after she’d put it into a condolences email.

Some people become terminal fucktards. These people often win Darwin Awards – these honour those who take themselves out of the gene pool. They also have Honorable Mentions, for those who don’t die.

So that’s being a fucktard. There are degrees.

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

Now what? I’m all out of fucktard inspiration. I read some Darwin Awards and i’m not sure we are all fucktards – i think maybe some are, some just have bouts of it. If we are lucky, we survive.

Unfortunately, death by fucktarditis, though cutting a swathe through the population of young men, isn’t common enough with women – there are too many of them breeding.

You only have to watch an episode of any plastic surgery gameshow reality show. Woman goes on about how much she hates her bat ears and massive hook nose, and how she’s going to enjoy her new face sans such horrors. Meanwhile, there are her six children, all with her bat ears and hook nose, cheering Mum on.

***********

Enough about fucktards. What else is news?

Wait, i no longer care, there’s a fucktard on the telly – if you have National Geographic Channel, check out Dangerous Encounters. No other naturalist gets as scared as Dr. Brady Barr, herpetologist, and the man who made “Get it off me!” a catchphrase.

He’s running around dragging a something on rope, making a Komodo dragon chase him, he’s already run off screaming once. Classic Barrisms include “out of my way!” as he runs screaming from whatever is biting him this week, and “Get it off me!”

In nearly every episode he gets bitten or strangled by something – it’s like nature’s revenge on the Steve Irwin Wannabe’s now infesting every nature program.

Dr Barr also gets stuck in the mud whilst surrounded by hippos, while wearing a hippo costume. Yep, it’s the sort of thing one watches when people are annoying you. You cheer as he gets bitten by snakes, and hope a croc rips his leg off.

As Mr Whatsit just said, Dr Barr squeals like a girl. HAHAHAHAHAHA!  He just got Komodo Dragon spit in his mouth! OMG this guy is perfect.

He is moi fucktard-of-the-moment.
I have to go, this episode he’s doing giant salamanders!

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


The dangers of statistics….

A year ago, Twitter said that only 2% of their users had selected an option to see all the Tweets of all the people they Followed. Others chose not to see Tweets addressed to others. So if you and I were following each other, if i addressed something @someone_else, you wouldn’t see it.

Yesterday, thinking it would be a minor change, they removed the option to see all. Strangely, a large proportion of the people on Twitter were incensed. #FixReplies was soon top of the Twitter charts.

After less than twenty-four hours, there was a temporary fix on the “See All @Replies” option – which doesn’t suit the 98% of Twitter who didn’t want that option. Those people are now being bombarded with (for them) horrifying numbers of Tweets.

Meanwhile, the others want the option back – bored with only a couple of people talking, and preferring a wide river of Tweets to paddle in. I like it that way, but then i don’t have Twitter on all the time.

After referring to the option as both “confusing” and “undesirable”, it was nice to see Twitter surprised by the negative reaction. This lads, is why Disraeli said there were three kinds of lies: “lies, damned lies, and statistics.”

That 2% of Twitter users – those people  engage with Twitter in a way that makes the other 98% look disinterested. Let’s face it – if it was only 2% of people who use the program, you’d be experiencing minimal turbulence up there in Twitter Fairyland.

If that 2% can make this much noise in the Twitterverse, they’re a much larger percentage of the people who actually say things, and engage with others. Any chat room or social networking gizmo, you’re going to have lurkers. People who don’t say much. Sometimes, they don’t speak at all. They do like to watch the people who speak, as if it’s a soap.

Even in an chat room, a large number of lurkers only focus on the posts of those they’re Following/talking to, minus any @ replies to specific people – and prefer it that way. If you can only read 250 words a minute, you’re going to want to do it this way.

That’s such an alien concept to me, but then i read fast. If i notice you saying something in an aside to someone else, if that conversation sounds half-interesting, i’ll click on the person. Often, they end up being someone I Follow, and even more often, i click onto someone else from their list of Tweets, and Follow them.

Once Twitter settles down, and we’re given the options back to see all @replies – once you get the hang of basic Twitter, try it out. (EDIT: as of late October ’09, this hadn’t happened, however, they’ve given us Lists, so we can recommend our followers in hand-picked bunches to the world.)  The people you like, the ones you Follow – they’re the ones who are excellent for finding new people to Follow from.

Right now, the option’s set so that  even if you put @ to start a post, unless you click the Reply button, Twitter shows your Tweet in the streams of everyone who’s Following you – instead of having to click through to their profile to see all their posts. [EDIT: this changed, now posts @someone are not seen unless you and i both follow that person.) (Except their DM  -Direct Messages – these are still completely private.)

Tip for programmers: remember, as you build a program, that only a tiny number of people will learn to do more than the absolute basics to operate it. Things you think everyone knows how to do will prove to be strange and arcane to some of your users.

I have a friend who could email, chat, and apparently work a computer but couldn’t cut and paste. People aren’t very technologically savvy as a rule. How many of us can explain how a car engine works? How our computer works? What is the internet?

Some of you can explain these things – i can with some online prep – but you’re the exceptions that prove the rule. Most people don’t explore their computers or their software.

For instance, whenever Microsoft Office says to people, “So, you like Word? Great! What new functions would you like it to have?” at least three-quarters of the desirable functions suggested are ones that Word already has.

Most people don’t read the screen, and they don’t explore the Help or the Menus to see what they can do. Outlook and Outlook Express are both (for all their faults), amazing bits of kit.

However – most people, to program their preferences and connections into them, and get their email –  a basic requirement –  need the assistance of a tech person or a captive member of family who knows a little bit about computers.

In Other News: I’ve begun deleting the occasional Tweet in Twitter *sighs* due to chronic problems with typos. I only do it when i mess up a link, trend tag, or someone’s name. I figured i better confess, as it was probably only just over a week ago i said i didn’t ever delete posts.

(UPDATE: i discovered that deleting posts does not mean they disappear from Twitter – if someone Searches for “stinginthetail” then even my typo posts show up. So the warning about be careful what you post, especially with a glass of wine under your belt, is doubly true. It’s there forever.)

Another UPDATE – by using FriendFeed i can see all posts by people i Follow if they’re on FriendFeed. So now i use that, and the Twitter client – which i prefer for posting and searching – instead of being able to have one page open that gives me the functions i used to have on the Twitter front page. (Update, Friendfeed only showed me people using it, not all my followers, so proved worse than useless.)

The net saves time! Ha.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


The future’s so bright…

One car registration paid, the money to do the other one is in transit between accounts, and soon, after the water and phone bills, i can start saving petrol money for the invasion of Queensland. And snacks-on-the-way-money. I will take a thermos of hot coffee, too.

I am so glad i don’t smoke tobacco any more, i don’t have to make sure i have enough ciggies rolled for the journey. About twelve hours drive if i don’t get lost. You can do it in ten according to a website, Mr Whatsit does it in less time at night – but I may take longer.

Yes, as it’s an invasion, i’ll be taking the tank.  Doesn’t move fast, but pootles along once she gets going, though a trifle anxiety provoking at more than about 120kph. (Tries to remember what that is in miles, fails, looks it up. Aha, that’s about 75mph.)

On the bright side, I’m going somewhere i used to live, so i don’t have the panic of driving into unfamiliar suburbia without a map, though i did leave there over four years ago, and i’m a bit vague about which freeway exit to take. I’ll have to check. Plenty of time yet, *touches wood* we still have to give a month’s notice.

It will be nice to be warm again – i came back to Australia because i didn’t want to live in the UK’s chill, and being in central coastal NSW does not agree with me. Last night it was 5°C on the front verandah, and it’s not winter yet. It’s lovely and sunny today, which means although it’s officially 20°C if you sit outside in the sun, you get up to about 30°C (70-80’s F and then the overnight temp will drop to 40°F) so you really feel it in your bones after sunset.

With any luck the tank will be easier to start up there. She doesn’t like the cold either. Reg, the Mechanic of Doom, couldn’t get a choke cable to fit, and bodged one up that doesn’t really work so cold weather’s a bitch. Parking’s easy enough with the tank, it doesn’t mind being left on the street, and you can just park on top of anyone who takes your space. Or on their car.

It does get chilly at night in South East Queensland, but i lived in the UK for over a decade, i can deal with snow if i have to, and it doesn’t snow on the Gold Coast. In summer, it’s cooler than Brisbane, the capital, which isn’t actually on the coast, though its edges sprawl that far now.

Me being from Western Australia, i get to skip the usual border rivalries – WA is too far away for most people to care. When in my home, you notice that they tend to call the rest of Australia “the Eastern States”.

Not that people from WA have chips on their shoulders about being from the biggest state – like Texans are in the USA. Oh no, we’re totally chilled about the way the rest of Australia sucks away our wealth and uses it to prop up places like New South Wales.

My fondness for weapons of war is purely coincidental.

In other news: the invasion planning begins. A storage unit will be rented, trips will be made towing worldly goods bit by bit, and we’ll be able to take some time when we get there to regroup and save some money on rent while we look for a new place.

What did we do without Google Earth and sites like realestate.com.au? I remember looking for houses to rent back in the dim dark days of newspaper adverts and having to phone the agent to get any real detail. Now, i can see the house is on the highway, backs onto an industrial estate, or is on a a flood plain, and what sort of an area it looks like from the air. In some places, i can even see the street view with Google’s StreetView.

The future rocks!

Except for Twitter changing their format. Now, when i type directly to someone, an @reply, nobody sees it except those already following the person. Which takes the whole random connection beauty of Twitter away.

I am annoyed. It’s trending on Twitter as #fixreplies – and i hope they change it back. It was optional, i want it back that way.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Get your cult membership here

Hahaha – someone found my blog while looking for “porn female crucifixion stories” – the blog on “something evil for the weekend, sir?” is on the 3rd page of results. I need to intro some other weird subjects.  In the music biz it’s good to be a cult – i’m sure it’s good generally, providing you don’t hand out poison koolaid, but instead offer them cheese and bikkies. With any luck you get crossover appeal. Especially if you supply chocolate cake.

It could get quite messy, what with the cake, the crackers and cheese, the  crucifixion fantasists, the (mostly) wannabe eunuchs, the religious people, and the Servants of Onan (masturbators). The eunuchs are here thanks to me threatening a penectomy on the guy down the street.

It’s a particularly cruel punishment, the penectomy, if you leave the testicles. He’s got the urges, you see, but not the wherewithal. Why would i do it? He cut down some trees in the park, to make his view of 200° of lake and trees look more fashionable and more bare water. *spits* Ecological vandals should suffer.

I was told in the comments on the last post that i was “deliciously schizophrenic”. Which was just lovely. Though we wonder how he knew, as the Queen of Darkness barely spoke at all. We’re not crazy, we’re serious about invading Queensland. Maybe he thinks a Hello Kitty Kalashnikov doesn’t fire real bullets? Pfft. Her Majesty will take advantage of Australian apathy. Assuming she can overcome her own Aussie apathy.

Providing the beer keeps flowing, the sport continues to hit the TV screens, and the barbies continue to burn, my nation will be happy. I don’t really drink beer, or watch sport, nor does Mr Whatsit. We both like a barbeque though. We aren’t un-Australian.

We’re just a minority. White people who read books, don’t like sport, and aren’t booze-sodden. We exist, just not in large numbers. Back in Queensland, i’ll have to get used to the incredible amounts of alcohol that infest even morning get-togethers in the Sunshine State.

They’re heavy drinkers here in New South Wales, too – pretty much everywhere in Australia – but in the Far North, according to Mr Whatsit, who lived there for 30 yrs or so, they drink even more.

Hold on, i completely lost my thread. *reads* Nup, i’m none the wiser. Her Majesty says we’re semi-incoherent at the best of times, and the voices-outside-my-head say that’s part of our charm.

I have basic grasp of rugby – both kinds – cricket, most types of ball games, and even Formula One. It’s required to be able to keep sanity when for months at a time, while the TV is on sport. You learn to enjoy it, or you go mad. I did learn that dissecting a rugby league game from a disinterested viewpoint is quite fascinating.

Gosh, all that repressed homosexuality. The shorts! The throbbing muscles on their foreheads. The insane bravery of the referees stepping into the mêlée. The refs should be issued with cattle prods. Tasers. Possibly silver bullets.

Anyway – I’m not schizophrenic, i’m just a little confused. Mercury is Retrograde, so communication is fraught with problems. As are computer communications. I was going to do a new badge for my Twitter Followers, because a neat site was up again, after the owner had been ill, but sadly i can’t get it to work.

I was in the mood for a badge. Maybe some black polished boots. A tank, a border in front of me, and my Mother Teresa Rocket Launcher on my knees.

How can that be misconstrued? It’s Zen & the Art of World Domination®. Yeah, i’m getting with the program, grasping the zeitgeist, embracing lots of other cliches too, and i have a catchphrase. The PR people wanted “Come over to the Dark Side, we have cake”, but the Legal people said that implied i would actually give away cake, and right now, i get any cake, it’s all mine.

I think this blog post is over. The voices-inside-my-head say go on, but of course, we don’t listen to them.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com