Now Contains Added Bacon!

In other news – the Invasion of Queensland ’09™ has become the Invasion of Queensland ’09 ’10™… probably after mid-year. Which is annoying, but these things are sent to try us. And i know by whom.

God better watch out when i get to Heaven, i am going to nail the bastard’s scrotum to the wall. Another year (possibly that long) in New South Wales? Arrggh.

And i had tshirts made!

I go with what's popular
I go with what's popular

Sadly, Queensland is a bit like Jerusalem – warm, infested with terrorists tourists, you should be able to find a Kosher butcher, and it’s been put off until next year. Lack of funds mainly.

Extreme bummer, and ironic – we had an offer of free rent for a few months that would have enabled us to save some money. Ah well, these things happen. If i discern a reason, God’s Holy Hand Grenades get a reprieve.

Meanwhile, i’m trapped in New South Wales. *heavy sigh* And sooner or later someone  – who didn’t like me being critical over the weather or my paddles in the shallow end of the Central Coast gene pool – will recognise me and try to stone me to death.

Probably as i wander lost in The Wilderness (AKA Erina Fair, biggest shopping centre between Sydney and Queensland). It’s tough being the Antichrist.

I’ll just have to take over this state first. I can’t be bothered waiting until we can invade Queensland. So, the revolution begins.

I  suppose if i had a new tank, especially one with air-con, *hint hint* i might be persuaded to pop down, massacre every Sydney celeb that i can find – except those in my Twitter list. I promise by the #cultofmarkpesce (a strange, sweater-loving cult) not to hurt Mark Pesce.

However, Kyle Sandilands will be first to the wall. I reckon that ‘shock jock’ should be rebranded – ideally in the middle of the forehead with a hot iron – how does “famous for being a wanker” sound?


Reading back, i note this is the second blog in a row where i’ve mentioned nailing someone’s genitalia. Though abusing God’s is a new one. I’ll probably find i’m wrong, and “How many of God’s testicles can dance on the head of a pin?” was a common theme for debate in your average Middle Ages monastery. Or nunnery.

Genital abuse could be a theme, or maybe a motif. It could symbolise something. Like me wanting to kill things. I think this is part of being a real writer. “Oooh, ‘ark at her, a motif. Ain’t we la-de-dah?” It’s alright, that was just a voice from inside my head, we don’t pay attention to those.

I could use a staple-gun instead? For Kyle’s boy bits. Would that be more humane? I think i’d enjoy stapling parts of Kyle to a backboard far too much for my own good.

It might be tricky, him being so obviously over-compensating for lack of oomph. (Yes, that is a euphemism, for me being very rude.) Wait, didn’t one of the Hooker Dolls for PrePubescents ® come with her own Professional Dungeon & Dominatrix kit? Or did i dream that?

*sound of whispering*

Aw, shame, because there was a tiny staple-gun in the equipment,
the  perfect size.


I was distracted from such happy thoughts by these figures just to hand. Beloved Visitors can be divided, those whose country of origin can be discerned, and those who can’t. Why do you hide from me, preciouses?

About half of you, i know where you come from. Don’t panic! Only your country, nothing more. I landed on one site yesterday that had a groovy widget that said the latest visitor, (i.e. me), came from  “Budgewoi NSW” and swung the animated globe to where i am and zoomed in.

It was just someone’s blog, but I found myself wanting to hide under the desk and pull the curtains, in case a Google Earth van pulled up outside. Talk about scaring the Beloved Visitors. I don’t want to make anyone nervous like that.

However, I need more. I’m hooked on having minions slaves Beloved Visitors.


There is only one thing for it – i’m going to have to spread my market demographic. We have eunuchs, budgerigar fanciers, those pining for ponies,  toaster sex aficionados, and the occasional lost soul who seems to be looking for me, or possibly God.

I’m trapped in this deity niche, i need to diversify my appeal. No problem, we already have sex, religion, politics, what else is everyone into?


We need more junk food, everyone likes junk food – i need to put in more pies, pizza, beer, and bacon. At the same time, by mentioning low fat, i’ll automatically pull in dieters. Oh, how fickle are search engines.

I found out what a corn dog was the other day – America, your shame is exposed. It’s fat and pigs’ lips, poached in oil. Okay, so technically, it’s a hot dog sausage, encased in corn batter and fried.

Anyway, i need more fat and beer – or at least the blog does. Tea and crumpets are not enough. Marmalade does not feed the man inside. I need some of that cheese that comes in a can in case there are people who don’t get cheese.

I should probably have a sausage sizzle. (No, that’s not a euphemism. Aussie tradition to earn some money, serve cheap eats, outside some shopping centre: sausages and fried onion in bun or bread with sauce.)

Note to self: stop scaring away men by talking about sex. Probably hold off the genital nailing until they get used to the castrations. If i really am serious about spreading my appeal, we need less about me getting the trains to run on time, and more about “Beers for all my friends!”

This blog’s been too low fat, except for the butter on the crumpets. There’s been hardly any booze, and not enough ball games. Unless stapling them counts?

ZOMG! I could staple bacon to Kyle! Woot, pork-on-pork action! “Baybee, we can haz hot secs nao?”

I don’t know who said that, everyone’s saying it was the other guy. I suspect the voices-outside-my-head, because they’re more into puns. I have a better idea.

We could race local wannabe’s like Kyle and his sidekick Jackie O (who makes Paris Hilton look classy), along the Opera House steps. Ooh, we can use Rove, of course.  MacManus and Karl. The Aussie one AND the US one, why not? (Is the US one a cool guy? Cos he doesn’t have to die if you speak up now.)

Celebrity racing, with bacon, uh-huh.
I can see it – nude except for bacon loincloths.

We know what you want...
We know what you want...

The bacon’s just because everyone, no matter what socio-economic bracket, loves bacon. Liberal, Labor, Green, or People Even More Crazy Than Me, out here on the lonely Anarchist Monarchist fringes of polite politics. Me and Al Gore, we both pine to be queen.

Republican or Democrat – even if bacon is your shame – you love it. Bacon’s your guilty secret. And if we staple it to celebrities, sharks will be able to eat them without gagging.

And it occurs to me, i haven’t been instilling enough fear in the populace. I think my new TV show, Shark Versus Wanker, will do the trick.


Message to presenters: you will present the show, not yourself, thanks, or we will staple bacon to you.

A special invited audience will throw rotten meat as you run past, then are cattle-prodded dive jauntily into Sydney Harbour. Oh, how we will laugh as you try to make it to the Heads.

Jackie O would look très cute with a few bits of bacon
stapled to her chihuahua (that’s a euphemism).

the next big game show idea
the next big game show idea "Not Waving, But Sharkbait"

I will be chumming the water with fishguts and cheering on the Sydney Harbour Bull Sharks. These are real sharks, not actually a team, but I think it would be HUGE. Yes, there will be cheerleaders from all the major football teams to chase into the water – for a small fee you even get your own cattleprod.

Before someone gets pedantic, that’s a Great White in the picture – it was taken in a studio, with makeup, and Cedric is just pretending to be a bull shark. Cedric is 8 metres (26 feet) long, and normally prefers colder waters. But for Kyle, he says he’ll make an exception.

And of course, that’s Kyle Sandilands to Cedric’s left, pretending to be a human being. Yes, Kyle’s head IS to scale. Don’t forget, no sentient creatures would be harmed in the making of this new gameshow, and we’d dispose of a pollutant. It’s a win:win.

Of course the celeb’s will be in it – look how much money Michael Jackson and Elvis have made since they became dead for tax reasons. Besides, Kyle will do anything if there’s a media pack there.

Excuse me, i think i follow his agent on Twitter,
i have to run before someone else pitches this.


What’s Toaster Sex? Sex with household appliances.
Gosh, i need to explain? Just remember to hold onto the cord.
And obviously, to unplug it first.

Here, i’ve blogged about it before. I even had Charlton Heston soliciting gay Hummer sex. (Yes, that’s with a car, men always like cars more than something out of the kitchen.)

If you’d like to see more pretty toaster sex pics, try here too.


Editors are like elephants…

The Thing has stayed a rite-de-passage tale – (about growing up – literally, rites of passage – to adulthood), when i thought the main character was going to be a mature person, like me – but some brat’s moved in and taken over.

Not only that, but i realised despite over a million words set in this world, i’d never written the story of the man who made the kingdom. So i’ve gone back 2,050 years in their time.

This is the advantage to being the Antichrist, and a god in my own right, you see? I can do what i like. Well, the pesky buggers have minds of their own, but generally, i’m forcing them in the direction of the plot.

This is radical, this plot thing. I’ve only recently started writing with a plot laid out before i start, and it’s actually much easier. People have been telling me this is a good idea for years, but nobody said it was easier. I’m not sticking to it 100%, and it’s not super-detailed, so characters can still jump out and surprise me.

Just before i started The Thing in its current incarnation, I joined a hashtag group on Twitter – #amwriting – nice bunch of people and very inspiring. There are  pertinent posts for writers, and of course, you get to read other people’s work.

Tip: don’t spam the #hashtag.

Writers are generally polite, but there are some who post a link to their blog over and over (not even to a new post) with”#amwriting, #writing, #writer, #writers, #author, #authors, #novelwriting, #blogger, #blogging” so it shows up everywhere. Some of those hashtags are very quiet – so all you see is one writer, spamming over and over.

About a millimetre away from being blocked.


Some Advice for Writers

I don’t think i have an original thought in my head, so i’d like to thank the people i’ve been taught by, or whose wonderful books on writing i have read. And those whose books i read and thought, hmm, i love this, or i hate this – why?

I once had to suffer through an otherwise-excellent fantasy epic where the writer kept confusing the front of the saddle with the back.

If you don’t know the facts, or you’re assuming, check with someone who’s experienced – if you don’t know anyone, and it doesn’t show up on Google, make a polite phonecall or email to someone who does know, and ask if you can pick their brains.


Everyone has a story inside, and I believe Anyone can write, but of course, the corollary is that Anyone can write garbage. Over the last 14 years or so, since i started writing books as well as the poetry, songs, and scripts which i’ve written since i was a child – I’ve written quite a few books.

I  tried to count them, gave up, but it’s about 17, all over 100,000 words – i wasn’t happy with them. They weren’t proper stories – because i kept removing most of the conflict. (Essential bit of a story.)

I presume it was some control freakery that reflected the bad times i was living through, which i couldn’t have an effect on, so i was trying to write away real life for a while there.

It’s all experience.


I learned a lot from all my non-books. The crucial importance of using the right word at the right time, and of pacing out fight, rescue, and ESPECIALLY sex scenes.

Unless you’ve done it, try lying down on the bed, or the kitchen table, test out your character’s actions. Oops, guess what? He can’t reach her pink bits with an egg-whisk from there.

You may not have had the kind of wild sex you’re writing about, but you must convince the reader that you’ve done it. You don’t have to be explicit (and i don’t mean just about sex – explicit means “clearly developed or formulated”) but if you do decide to go into exact detail, get your freaking facts straight.


Quick quiz: which side would a right-handed man have the scabbard of his sword?

Answer: The left.

Quick tip: Want to make me stop reading your bit of swords-and-sorcery or historical novel? Fuck that one up.


A writer i picked up at the library used a word in the wrong context – so jarring i went to a dictionary – and went steadily south from there.

I’d just got used to a main male character, who was the first introduced, so i assumed he was a main man, but he was killed. i presume the writer did this because he thought his character was a cliché or that he should “kill his darlings” when he wrote and he was fond of the character, so the character had to die.

Do not do this to your readers – don’t give them a protagonist then kill them! Then the writer pretended to kill another one, but in the same style as the first, so i assumed he was also actually dead. But he wasn’t. Oh har-fucking-har. (“Kill your darlings” = cut out the bits where you’re being clever and showing off, as people don’t need to read such self-indulgent twaddle.)

The plot was one of the worst ever – it was the end of the world because of a Nasty Thing, but somehow, the Nasty Thing went away without any effort from anyone. “Arrhh, there we go, guv’ner, *sound of angels farting* it was the Hand of God wot saved us all.”

Do not do this, i will track you down and kill you, or more probably, never read anything of yours again. I won’t be reading this writer again, either. It’s the laziest, snidest,  CHEAT to your readers to suddenly say after they’ve slogged through at least 100,000 of your words…

“OMG! The Nasty Thing is gone! Whatever was wrong is fixed! Nobody knows why! But it’s terribly convenient, because obviously the author didn’t think the bloody plot through! We’re saved!”

At least try to give a plausible reason. *cries* To top off the insult to me as a reader, aside from the Nasty Thing just going away, the action in the human side of the plot was resolved by the writer’s equivalent of saying this…

“Haha, the main protagonist’s wife was working secretly with the guerillas, and saved everyone from the power-hungry evil guy who was taking advantage of the Nasty Thing messing up society – but nobody knew until the last page, especially not the reader, because the writer only put that in at the very end, (haha, suckers!) in a sad and futile attempt to force the book to make sense.”

Usually, when someone  shows you they are crap, they then stay crap – at least for the rest of that book. So the moment they’re shown crap, most people don’t bother reading it all the way.

Unless they’re freaks like me, who are very curious, and can read several thousand words a minute, compared to the average speed of about 250. I try to limit my length in posts – i don’t succeed – but i know for instance, that most people don’t  have 16 minutes to spare to read a 4,000 word post. (This isn’t that long, not any more.) No matter how fucking witty i’m being. *sigh*

If I write one that’s even 2,000 words long, and they do read it, I am blessed with the nicest, most perfect Beloved Visitors in the world! And i had better make them laugh, be pleasantly and genuinely educational, and/or entertaining in some major way.

If i cheat them with my words, they won’t come back.

Books are different, people are prepared to devote time.  So the same goes, about not cheating your readers with your words, but doubled.


The point is, (omg, she has a point!) the books that annoyed me were multi-published writers, (selling enough to say they ‘were a writer’ without people laughing at them) but they were so sloppy that i had to force myself to keep reading.

Far as i can tell, they’d had a big seller with one lucky book, and hadn’t learned their craft well enough to sustain their run, or maybe they had become lazy under the pressure of churning out the next novel.

I  can only imagine they’re surrounded with people too sycophantic to say, “Excuse me, but that really is tripe.” (Or perhaps something more constructive that gets the tripe idea over.)


I’ve found it an intensely frustrating time, building my worlds, thinking each time as i wrote a book that it was going to work this time, but it’s ultimately rewarding.

I’m writing fantasy fiction, so eventually i need to look at who publishes that genre. (I will later, let me finish The Thing first. As an unpublished writer, there’s no point otherwise.)

Find a book that’s in your genre, look up the publisher online. They will have their specifications for submission there. (There are also paper publisher directories that give a nice range of detail, most libraries have them.) Read the specifications, then read them again. A day later, look again. Then consider doing your submission.

As a former editor and slushpile reader, i’d ask you to please do this, because so many people send something the publisher will never publish – like romance novels to a publisher of science fiction. You’re wasting your time and theirs.


Oh – and before i forget. Do not argue with anyone who rejects your work. A polite rejection is not an invitation to write back and say they’re wrong and why. (This goes for people on dating sites, too, just by-the-by.)

Take your emotions out of any correspondence. You’re entitled to your opinion, to think that you’re the next big thing, however, tell me that, and I am entitled to  tell you that I think your work is a derivative piece of fluff and you copied the dialogue off a Hallmark card. I would not normally tell you this in such a hurtful way.

This is me being unrestrainedly rude, instead of constructively critical – spot the difference? Usually, I would be polite, suggest anything pertinent that came to mind with the piece, and advise that you join writers’ groups and creative writing classes, because i do believe, anyone can learn to write. (Anyone who’s prepared to work at it.)

You saying anything negative in response to a rejection is only going to make an editor remember your name, (not good if you want to send them more work).

And the funny thing? It was always the really crap people who thought they could argue me into changing my mind, or that they could explain their work so that it would be published.  You can’t explain your work. It stands alone.

An even more disturbing occurrence, in view of the completely psycho picture it painted of the writer was when i would get the same piece resubmitted a few months later, sometimes unedited, without any notice that it was a repeat submission.

Tip: If you’re resubmitting, say so.

Editors are very like elephants – they have long memories, thick leathery grey skin, huge tusks, roam the Serengeti, and are cranky. They Some of them enjoy trampling people. They work for vultures publishers who are often unpleasant people to work for.

Editors remember stories, so always say if you’re resubmitting something – and always make sure it’s been changed substantially in line with any actual criticism they gave you, otherwise you’re treating the editor like an idiot.

And exactly like elephants, editors will gore you to death if you don’t show respect. Until you sell well, in which case you become the biggest tusker in the herd, and they’ll all bring you bananas. Even the vultures publishers will be nice if they think you’ll make them money.

Elephants Editors are usually underpaid and well-educated, doing what they do because they love books – they’re not in it for the remuneration, *sound of hysterical laughter* as money in publishing is generally low. Alright, alright, it’s pitiful.

On the other hand, I think literary agents are like hyenas – everyone thinks they’re just unpleasant scavengers, but researchers have discovered that agents hyenas kill  more often than lawyers lions do. A good agent will bite off someone’s face for you make it much easier to get a vulture publisher.

Interestingly, girl agents hyenas have the biggest clitorises in the animal kingdom. Seven inches, momma.


Anyway, I’m off, back to The Thing – hope you enjoyed and possibly learned something – even if it was just about the girl hyenas.


Congratulations, you just read 2,087 words!

This post was more than halved in the editing process.
Worse than usual, my verbosity. I did keep some chunks of it for later.
Oops, and that’s now 2116 words.


I’m a Premenstrual Feminazi from Hell

Edit: 22nd Sept 09 – for some reason this post is showing as the 9th 7th Sept, it wasn’t posted then but on the 21st. Short of deleting it and reinserting in the right place, it’s always going to be one post out of whack. It should be after Editors are like Elephants, not before. Yeah, i think my whole blog has gone blonde.



contains explicit stupidity, frank sexual discussion,
offensive attitudes to religion, &
signs of contempt for married people who cheat.

There will be clitorises. Should that be clitorii? It’s the Great Penises Versus Penii Debate all over again. (Most of that was between me and the voices-outside-my-head.) I’m not trying to get you excited, and frankly, if explicit stupidity makes you hot, you need therapy.

I’m going to generalise heaps. This is a rant. *hands out the polarised goggles and the breathing apparatus* I’ll wait until everyone is comfy. Help yourself to bikkies.

*holds up sign that says FORESKIN*

If that made you blush in real life, probably better to go away now. *Nails foreskin to wall* What? It was a trophy foreskin, you’re supposed to do that. The name fooled you, right? You thought me being the Queen of Darkness was ironic? *raises eyebrow* Only partly.

On with the show…. who wants to be  Despot for the Day? Ha, just kidding.
As if any of you get to have a turn. Me me ME.

Oops, just a moment, i need to reset something.
*turns ego down to stun*


Meanwhile, “Australia’s leading criminologist” thinks online scams are now so bad, new computer users should have to pass a computer licence, certifying their ability to surf the net safely, before being legally able use their internet connection. I suppose some education is better than none, but I don’t happen to agree with his assumption “…that education [is] secondary to better technology solutions.”

Call me crazy, or even heretical – go on, you know you want to, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy – but I quite like the idea of educating people about net safety, or even religion.

I say do this instead of encouraging them to be stupider, and instead of expecting them to rely completely on technology or God to protect them, which Science or the Divine – whichever god you believe in – cannot do.

However, as the Antichrist, so not  a subscriber to normal ideas of Good Vs. Bad or even In-Between – i have at least some of the answers to keeping safe on the net, and for finding happiness – it’s alright, nothing religious, we’re going to achieve Nirvana-in-the-moment through sex.

Strap yourselves in. Or on. Whatever.


In the interests of safety & education –

Her Majesty Presents:

Ten Rules of Internet Survival
& Seven Sundry Hints

Rule 1: the only thing that will make your penis permanently bigger is surgery. No pumping device will do it. Drugs or herbs will have zero effect.


What do you mean you’re shocked that i’m talking about penii and clitorii – wait, no, that just sounds wrong – and i already embarrassed you with that foreskin? There’s cunnilingus, erections, and sex coming up.

I said this was going to happen. Run, while you still can. Before you turn into a Minion of Evil Beloved Visitor.

A minion is not a Bad Thing – well, some meanings are a trifle negative, –  obsequious, servile, and subordinate are never going to be an easy sell – but after that it’s “One who is highly esteemed or favored; a darling” from the French mignon meaning darling.

i was having an 80's moment
i was having an 80's moment

(Did you know, on Mozilla Firefox, you can have a browser plug-in that puts’s Dictionary, Thesaurus, and Reference sections up where the Google search is? Uber cool.)

Anyway, miniondom, what is it? You only have to read the blog and cope with my wittering on Twitter. It’s not a difficult gig being a minion these days. Well, actually, it might be. I can be prolific at times. Be brave!


handy hint:# 1 Instead of falling prey to shysters who can’t enlarge your manhood, learn to use your tongue and your fingers, that’s what most women want.

Do it instead of whining to strangers online about how you can’t hold an erection or how your penis is too small. Men actually do this – why? Wait, is this another one of those things that i think everyone experiences, but it’s really just me? I’m too approachable – I know, i know.

So, regarding your penis – like salespeople everywhere, internet salespeople like to prey on your lack of self-esteem. Especially where men are concerned, they’re hoping to exploit that niggling worry that a majority have, that their women are sexually dissatisfied because the man’s penis is too small or not hard enough.

This shows a staggering lack of knowledge about most women, what makes them happy, and how they orgasm. Yes, i know some size queens, but they’re a minority.

Sadly, I’d say a majority of women are dissatisfied with their sex lives and relationships (from what they tell me, and in my own experience with men), which brings us to …


Rule 2: hours of  Mister Snorty pretending to be the Loch Ness Monster are not really what most women want.

Corollary: Being rogered to death is only fun once.

When you were twenty and could actually perhaps stay hard for hours without pills, the women you were with were probably too polite – or ignorant about what felt good – to say they’d prefer some touching instead of you just banging away like that.

Viagra may make you feel like the Wang Overlord of Zorg – and Mister Snorty like Daddy’s Little Rhino – but most women don’t reach orgasm that way. They need clitoral stimulation. (Most means 60-80% of them – while personally, enjoying intercourse.)

Consider branching out into radical concepts like not viewing every person you meet as a series of receptacles for Mister Snorty’s emissions.


Rule 3: this should probably be number 1, but you have not won the lottery.

Nor is some bank official, family member of an overthrown government, or other telling you they want your bank details because then they can send you millions of dollars. They won’t.

This is called the Nigerian Scam, but the letters now come from every country in the world.


Rule 4: You have also not been carefully selected to receive a special offer.

Unless by carefully selected they mean “you said in some form you filled out online you liked X so we’re now trying to sell you something tentatively X-related.” Usually, they mean “your email was on a list we hacked from somewhere.”


Rule 5: She doesn’t love you.

People do meet online and translate that into a real life loving relationship, or even a hot date – however women writing to men can be divided into two kinds – women looking for visas or money, and men looking to fleece you.

The gorgeous Eastern Bloc, African, or Asian girl is usually a man sending you messages, and he is looking for –

  • someone stupid enough to give their credit card numbers.
  • someone silly enough to wire money.
  • a complete fucktard who will do both.

Australian men keep getting caught by this (as do men worldwide). Some even manage to reach the coveted ultra-fucktard status – when you’re dumb enough to go to Africa to meet your ‘love’ without some serious research first.

I googled “west australian man africa internet kidnap” looking for one i’d heard of, who spent some time chained to a toilet in Africa while his kidnappers tried to screw a ransom out of his family, and discovered a Belgian and a South Australian man also suckered in the same way.

Internet romance without any real life quotient (especially before any real life quotient) can be summed up in one word – fantasy. It can also be overwhelming, because you’re free to hang your fantasy love object banner on them – and because there’s no real life to bring you down.

Real love comes from real life – real contact – before you get there, you’re just perceiving an online persona. If you’re in love with anything, you’re in love with something that doesn’t actually exist.

handy hint: #2 You do know, when the woman you pay for sex tells you what a great lover you are, she really does say that to all the boys?
Corollary: This includes those you pay for:
online bdsm (kink), real life bdsm, phonesex, or cybersex.

Watch out for people who need money for operations, desperate trips to see their dying mother, or to pay crucial bills and the like.

People like me, who want new office chairs or decent chocolate biscuits in the Bikkie Jar of Doom, you can give us all your money without a qualm.

You can trust me, I'm egotistical.
You can trust me, I'm egotistical.

Which makes a pretty neat segue into…


Rule 6: there are fakes on the net.

People do meet from the net, and do fall in love/become friends with alarming regularity. I’ve met 100’s of genuine people in real life, in the decade and a bit i’ve been on the net. (No, i didn’t shag them all. One needs chemistry.)

On ‘dating sites’, many of the ‘women’ can be men, hoping that this way they can at least get cybersex. If you were a woman, you’d be alerted by things like “i’m just shaving my clit for you, baby”, (quote from a wannabe woman in an open chat room), whereas the guy she met at a city railway station was SO surprised when a man turned up.

Handy Hint #3: the hair doesn’t grow right on the clitoris, boys.

These men pretending to be women or to be part of couples think you’re so desperate, that any sex will be alright. “Men give better oral to men, right?”


Rule 7: the net isn’t full of hot women who will meet you for sex without even seeing a picture of your face. Unless they charge by the half-hour or are infected with something you really don’t want to catch. They aren’t usually hot.

Corollary: An astonishing number of men however, are totally available right now for anything with orifices. Yes, an octopus or a hole in the wall would probably do most of them.

Handy hint #4: Practise safe sex.

Here’s something cheerful. Via the internet, I’ve met a number of  men, (I’m talking about hetero and bi ones not gay men), shagged a few of them, and chatted to 1,000’s – around the world over a decade or so. With probably only a handful of exceptions, when safe sex was discussed, they thought it was optional.

These were men on dating, kink, and  swinger sites – some were wanting one night stands, others relationships – and not just the men, the women too. In cases where sexual liaisons lasted more than one night, most people stopped using condoms after the first few times, convinced they could tell if a person had something unpleasant.

Y’all know, HIV infection doesn’t show any signs, sometimes for 20 years? Neither do many sexually-transmitted diseases. People can be carriers of herpes and various kinds of Hepatitis without knowing at all.

One man rationalised not getting checked even after he found out his wife was having an affair as – he knew the man, and was pretty sure the man was only doing his wife plus his own wife. Wasn’t as if it was someone she picked up in a bar.

People are strange. Which brings us to…


Rule 8: dating sites have amazing numbers of married people cheating.

If you suss them out, they’ll often say, while pretending to urbanity, “She knows i have a higher sex drive than she has, and doesn’t mind me looking elsewhere.”

Wow, doesn’t he sound just like Hugh Hefner? And Hef’s such a model of what women want.

Seriously, with all the men on adult dating sites claiming that they’re allowed to cheat – if this many women were so casual over who their man had sex with, we would know about it.

Handy hint #5 men will lie for sex, married men more so.
Corollary: Women lie too.

Apparently divorce is illegal now, (everywhere in the world), otherwise why would all these people be saying, “I love him/her but he/she doesn’t understand my sexual needs so i’m justified in seeking them elsewhere. No, i can’t divorce *pious glance to heaven* for the sake of the children.”

Oh, what a poor suffering victim he/she is. Have we mentioned, to beware professional victims?

Married-people-cheating tell you this claptrap because they want to be covered in case you get the wrong idea, and think that them saying, “I love you! You’re my dream, my one and only, the person i’ve waited for all my life!” means more than “Damn! You could suck a golfball through a garden hose! That’s a talent!”

I’ve been fooled by married people who claimed their relationships were over , and that they were now in love with me.  They weren’t.

They only loved their own penises.


Rule 9: your bank did not send that email.

Nor did Paypal, or any other site you’ve used your credit card in or you have a bank account with. Do not click that link in the email – it’s a fake site that wants to harvest your account passwords.

To minimise this kind of email ending up somewhere where you might click on it without thinking, like in your ISP email, use a hotmail account (or something else without your name on it) when out on the web. Which leads us onwards, and finally…


Rule 10: Not everyone on the net is a nice person.

Sad, but true. Along with the criminals (we have those outside the net too, remember?), there are some really damaged people around. Ones who’ll do damage to you if they get a chance.

In real life, you’d see they were completely insane and back away fast – here on the net, it can be harder to tell. Crazy eyes don’t always show in a text-based format. With that in mind, don’t use your real name as a handle on a dating site.

Same goes with Twitter – unless you’re purely using your account for business, you may want to set up your  Twitter, email, blog, etc, so you don’t make it too easy for people to find you. Don’t use your home email, use a hotmail or gmail (or other) account.


Handy Hint: #6: You’re the mark. The gullible person they’re hoping to trick.

The internet is just like the real world – most people in it are just ordinary people, but there are also those spammers, cheaters, rip-off merchants – and much worse. (Just Google “lured victim by internet”.)

All of them are types of sociopaths and psychopaths who don’t actually see you as a person. Don’t be a victim – be smart, be safe, and have fun. (I’ve had a lot of fun.) Google is your friend – along with sites like Snopes that debunk hoax and scam emails.


This list isn’t exhaustive, but it covers some of the usual suspects.

Handy hint: Lucky # 7: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

The reason the spammers keep spamming is because people fall for it –  people click the link. You click, they get paid. You sign up, they get paid. All those get-rich-quick schemes are aimed at one thing – getting enough people to buy in so that the person at the top gets rich – not you.


If i still haven’t convinced you to be careful online, then don’t forget, donations to the Buy Her Majesty A New Tank Fund Office Chair & Bikkie Fund can be made via my hotmail address, which is posted top right, on this site that anyone with a hotmail address can join.

The badges are my own work, made on
the wonderful Says-It generator site – links to it behind the badges.


i hate it when i’m blonde…

i am much too literal-minded to be allowed out by myself. Or more to the point, on the net. I have been embarrassing myself online for about 11 years now. Real life, much longer. Now i’m a bit of a brainbox at times, but i can be so dizzy. You think i can spot satire the first time round? I miss jokes, quite often.

Anyone in my Twitter list will know this already, i’ve probably had to say, oh, sorry, *blonde moment* after something i tweeted to you. Well, i can spot them sometimes, but other times – d’oh! Straight over my head. Or under it – i may have been thinking lofty thoughts.


Literature was compulsory in my university course (and the main reason the course remains incomplete), in fact, I had to do a double major, Literature and Creative Writing.

I love writing, i loved Creative Writing. I am happy to read anything from high- to low-brow under my own steam. i once had to admit in Lit 101 that my current outside reading consisted of rereading “100 Years of Solitude” (highbrow) and also the latest Jackie Collins (considered tres trashy) – i didn’t have to admit it, i could have lied.

But i don’t care – in my opinion, people like Wilbur Smith (blockbuster bestsellers set mostly in africa) can happily hold their heads up as a writer who helps literally millions to enjoy books – unlike people like Thomas Pynchon, *hiss spit snarl* who only writes to annoy people who read ‘high’ literature.

Least that was my opinion after i read “The Crying of Lot 49”. *sounds of screaming* Not worth the paper it’s written on – it’s a trick. I threw it across the room, then picked it up, read it again in case i missed something, because i do miss things. Nup, i checked with friends, it’s supposed to be like that. I threw it at the wall again and then gave it to someone i hated.

However, that’s unusual, i can read almost anything and enjoy it. If i switch off the Editor Inside, i can even read an early Harry Potter book without getting too tetchy over how much it sounds like Enid Blyton and J R R Tolkien.

I could never understand why – despite loving books – I hated Literature as a study – but Thomas Pynchon showed me *reluctant gratitude* .  I detested the endless evisceration of texts, with not even a passing focus on whether it was a thing to be enjoyed.

Spoiler Alert “Crying of Lot 49”, the book ends where it starts, without the big final scene to let you know what is going to happen after the first page. So you are left hanging, saying what? Brilliant, but i hated it.

It’s designed for “modern literature” nuts who love to dissect texts – cos if you do, you disappear up your own profundity. And yes, that’s a euphemism – after the last few posts i’m trying to be less on the adult content.

Then was the denial that the author ‘meant’ anything by their words, or could hope to communicate in a clear way with anyone, really, and narrative (the story) was dead, along with –  in the end – the author themselves.

A text was produced by a culture, not a person. Literature included anything – street signs, movies, adverts, and so on. It was a series of signs one could not possibly hope to decode, so one shouldn’t try. You get a picture in your head when i say cat, i get a pic too – and they’re probably different cats.

So trying to communicate is stupid – just a bunch of people railing at each other in words (signs) they don’t actually understand to mean the same thing. Wow – you now don’t have to do Literature 101.

You should give me all your money, i have saved your brain from being strangled by your own intestines. Despite the above, we continued to take sentences apart. I had to bite down the urge to scream “Oh sod off!” a lot.

I was also doing it in my mid-twenties, having been out in the real world of working in shops, and it was hard to deal with sudden poverty and a bunch of what were – for the first year at least – mostly high school kids.

I was done with nearly all the Creative Writing Units, (at 2.5 yrs into a 3 yr degree), and left. I’d done two years of Lit, and i couldn’t stand it any more. The idea of the Lit-heavy course i had next semester was enough to get me walking.

It was years before i realised part of my problem with Literature – I miss the literary allusions unless they’re the kind where someone’s compared to some mythical character i know about. “He was as a strong as Hercules” yes, i get that. Other things? Not so much…


spoiler alert – do not read this if you’re afraid of learning plot details of Billy Budd by Herman Melville. However, you need no familiarity with it to be able to understand this post,  i’m a great believer in not making you read something else so that i make sense.

I hadn’t read Billy Budd until the morning of the tutorial, when i realised from the common room chatter that it was this week, not next week, the book had to be read by. So i skimmed a borrowed copy at record speed.

Books in Oz were expensive then, too, (though they’re no better now), especially the scholarly ones. I often tried to do without books, because i was so poor i literally couldn’t afford to eat.

This was back in 1984 or so and my memory of the plot was full of holes, so i checked this. Billy Budd was a young sailor, real pretty boy, goody two shoes, gets beaten by sadistic sailor in charge, who mistakenly believes Billy dislikes him.

Unfortunately captain is twit and believes the nasty sailor about Billy, but the captain is ever-so honourable, blah blah blah. Billy Budd (whilst looking noble) hits bad sailor once, bad sailor dead, captain hangs Billy.

But hey, don’t worry, because the sailors knew the truth even if the officers didn’t. Yes, and they wrote  a song. And ha ha! Take that, evil Establishment! Yes, i thought, as i finished, but he’s dead, so They won, but don’t mind me.

I sat there, waiting for the discussion, hoping i wouldn’t get asked as i was still quite vague over much of the story (i usually volunteered). I managed to cover my surprise as the tutor asked how we’d all dealt with the homosexual allusions in the text.

Huh? I thought. These allusions were laid on so thick (in ripe, creamy spurts, that lay in sticky streams  on the deck – or something like that) everyone had been groaning at the tweeness of it all and begging for the book to end.

Even the gay guys were thinking he’d gone over the top. Everyone laughed. I laughed along with them.

Now, it was by the guy who wrote “Moby Dick” – about Captain Ahab and his search for Moby Dick, the Great White Whale –  and apparently, that’s not just about whaling and bad ship management either! I don’t remember much of that, other than i was also  glad when it was over.

I’ve read all the classics, i just didn’t get what they were alluding to. Though Dickens still rocks, and is easily decodable. I grew into Shakespeare. And others. Completely wasted on the young, at least they were on me.

Other people began talking glibly about the aforementioned homosexual allusions, metaphors, etc, as i casually flipped through the book in uber-fast skim mode, and spotted rather a lot of unrequited homo-code – the above spurting on the deck was when Billy Budd’s porridge was spilled.


All these years later, i still can’t think of Lit without shuddering. Not from the content, though it was bad enough – Billy Budd wasn’t the worst thing they made me do, i had to watch freaking Ingmar freaking Bergman! – but from “How i could have missed it?” Over and over.

So this whole post is a longwinded way of saying – don’t be surprised if you get a tweet (or a post on your blog) from me, saying “ahem, you’ve done that wrong/are being insane” – because i’ve taken you literally. I’ll apologise in advance, though i’ll do so afterwards too.

I know i’m not alone – enough people do it to me at times. The literal-minded are everywhere – and they don’t just have blonde hair. And our thanks to those of you who are kind enough to point out in private that it was a joke or that we missed the point- we appreciate your collusion in hiding our blushes and the extent of our blondeness.

If i out you as blonde in public it may be because i’m busy being blonde. I quite often compound the blonde moments of others by taking their moment of silliness seriously while the speaker is already realising their mistake, and everyone is laughing,  “Whoa, lol, are they having a blonde moment or what?”

And i carefully explain why that last post of theirs was demented. Yes, they say through gritted teeth, i’d just realised. *blonde moment*