Only 7 months until my birthday…

I was surprised by the positive reactions to the last post on professional victims – i was sure some emo would give me a hard time, but instead, a bunch of people who’ve been manipulated by emos stood up to say, “Oh God! I know someone like that!” A lot contacted me on Twitter too, and a number contacted me privately to check they knew who i was talking about.

The post was inspired by several professional victims i’ve had the misfortune to run into, in the last 12 months or so in particular, though i also have some i’ve known all my life, but it was amazing how many people were right on the button. Personally, I know way too many of them. I know of even more, as being emo doesn’t preclude being famous. Many celebrities love playing the victim.

But anyway, that was last week. Or the week before, i’ve had flu,  I don’t know what week it is. This week, i’ve decided the attention whores of the world have had enough attention, let’s talk about something nice. Like food. Or good sheets. Hmm. Or i could just rant about whatever’s on my mind.

We could talk about you, but that would mean you’d have to stop lurking, say what’s on your mind, and while we’re waiting, the rest of us might wander off. We’re known for it. Short spans of attention, that’s what the world has now. You’re as good as your last blog post. Most people won’t read back further, those who do earn my undying lurve.

Nothing is as flattering to us egomaniacal anarchist monarchists as reading back. I have some wonderful posts back there. Why should i be the only one who reads them? You don’t read back over your own blog? Not even to laugh at your own jokes? *gasps* And people think I’m weird. Who else do you write for, if not yourself?

Oh, i remember what i was going to do a blog post about. I missed my own blog anniversary. On the 10th March, 2010, this blog turned one. (My Twitter account also turned one, i missed that too, on 14th March 2010.) I’d been blogging on a private site for a while, and had decided i’d had enough of the emos who’d apparently taken it over.

While i was figuring out what to do, i was doing a humorous post on fascism, or trying to, and wanted a pic. I googled funny fascism, found Jenny the Bloggess and thought woo. Once i’d stopped laughing, i figured if she can do that, i don’t have to hide myself behind an adults-only firewall because i swear and discuss adult themes on occasion.

The Australian Prime Minister disagrees with me on that, he thinks Australians are too immature to cope with anything adult on the net, and he’s trying to ban me, ignoring the fact that protecting the children is only possible if their parents pitch in. Yes, that means you. Don’t shut your child into their room with a computer, unless you want to set them out as predator-meat. I’ve blogged on that before in “Toaster Sex Will Rot Your Brain“.

Anyway, we were talking about me. Remember? *looks over bifocals at you* Yes, turning fifty this year, might i remind you. You have until October 31st 2010 to buy me a present, and i suggest you all chip in and get me something from the site that sells the Hello Kitty Kalashnikovs – the Mother Teresa Rocket Launcher is always a fave.

Hey, one thing i don’t do, is sit back, simper, and hope people get me what i want. I’ve learned, it’s best to be clear, to ask outright, and to remind people – yeah, don’t sweat it, i’ll remind you in plenty of time. Mr Whatsit can’t even remember his own birthday, it would be asking for trouble to expect him to remember mine. (Seriously, he needs reminding, and never knows how old he is, we have to work it out.)

Wait… hold the presses. I’ve seen just the thing.

A Hello Kitty armoured personnel carrier – perfect for the Invasion of Queensland ’09 ’10 – we’ll put it down as “donations to the Office Chair and Tank Business Vehicle Fund” officially, as we can’t mention tanks, APC’s, and invasion costs to the Tax Office. Why Hello Kitty? Well, nobody suspects her. As the man in charge of Hello Kitty Hell says, she’s taking over the world, and nobody is noticing. Ooh – there is a Hello Kitty Gatling Gun out – if the APC is too pricey, i’ll settle for that.

According to the Accountant of Doom, invading Queensland, or even parts of New South Wales, isn’t tax deductible. War isn’t tax-deductible? What kind of country is this? And i’m not allowed to kill any more public servants, something about murder being actually illegal.

Speaking of murder, I haven’t killed anyone in The Thing lately, (my work-that-was-in-progress). I had one of those bubble of knowledge moments – where my knowledge suddenly all meshed, and i realised I’d waffled on way too much in my initial draft, to the point where whilst trying to read it over quickly, I ended up lost in my explanations.

So i am chopping out the ones that can be chopped, reducing others, and replacing some with conversations or the actual events, instead of reported ones. I’ve also realised i must have been frisky when i did the sex scenes, they’re a bit too explicit and lengthy for a fantasy sci fi epic, so they’re gone. All jolly good fun, and if i just had a Hello Kitty Kalashnikov to shoot the neighbours with, life would be sweet.

Life is pretty good, despite having flu (or some kind of virus), which i was just getting over when we found a boat. I’ve mentioned we live on a lake. One of our neighbours seemed to have acquired a boat. Before we realised it was abandoned and rang the cops about it, unfortunately some people stripped the engine off it, but what’s left, we have salvage rights on.

I told Mr Whatsit it was just like Whiskey Galore (a book then a film, released under “Tight Little Island” in the USA), but without the whiskey, obviously, and the Customs and Excise men, but he didn’t get it, not having read as many old books and watched as many old movies as i have. (He’s not fifty this year, so he gets no attention at all.)

I had to explain, it was a ship that ran aground on an island in the north of Scotland, and the islanders tried to salvage the whiskey it was carrying. You see, to our surprise, the police, instead of just checking to see if they had a stolen boat reported, told us we had salvage rights. Yes, we are like pirates.

We’ve ‘recovered the vessel’. We tied a rope to it, Mr Whatsit went all Boy Scout – he’s actually a Queen’s Scout, the highest scout you can be, and from back when scouts weren’t terribly politically correct, dressed in red tees (that’s nice for the red-headed kids, eh?), and worshipping celebrities like they do today – ffs, they’ve made Bear Grylls, notorious for faking his survival program, their Chief Scout – Mr Whatsit is disgusted.

So, with our salvage operation, Mr Whatsit tied the Tank to the boat, (ah, the joys of the sheepshank and the bowline – not just handy for fun in the bedroom), then hauled it up the beach, and we are now holding it for a while, until we’re legally allowed to dispose of it, unless the owner turns up. It had fake registration on it, so we’re quite hopeful they won’t.

Of course, standing out in the rain while Mr Whatsit backed the Tank across the foreshore, watching the ropes, checking the boat wasn’t breaking in half, all of this contributed to the bug i had last week (or maybe the week before) coming back. *coughs in pathetic fashion* It’s not that bad, really, as since i stopped smoking nicotine i don’t tend to get coughs like i used to.

Funny that. Giving up tobacco was part of my hysteria over turning 47. I couldn’t still be smoking at 47. Not when an uncle died of heart disease at 48, and they discovered he had lung cancer. He also had cirrhosis, as alcoholism runs in the family.

I stopped drinking much at all quite young, so at least my liver’s survived, (the rest of me is kinda stuffed) and astonishingly, the cardiac specialist who checked me out was so happy to find a healthy heart, i thought he was going to cry. I gather most of his patients are terminally obese, alcoholics, drug addicts, or all three.

Back to me! I’m going to turn 50, so i’m getting the hysteria over early. I mean, i like to enjoy my birthdays when they come, not be angst-ridden and crying into my beer (if i drank beer) over my age. I do like being older, by the way, us older women don’t take crap from others like too many of the younger ones do.

We’ve learned the hard way, that’s the road to unhappiness.


And at last, i’m over the bloody flu. It’s like being reborn – i’m not living on antihistamines, sinus meds, and painkillers. I have managed to clean the house, which is great, the floors were getting crunchy.

Now if i need to get my head back into The Thing. Aside from the edit, it’s been shamefully neglected, and i haven’t added much to the narrative since i crippled his mother. I pushed her off a tower. Well, i didn’t, it was the evil half-brother.

I’m thinking of doing horror for my next work, as i quite like being evil, and @RayGarton, who’s a real horror writer, and published and everything, freaked out when i showed him a topless pic of Donatella Versace, so i’m thinking it might be my future.

Donatella Versace with her clothes on

After all, if i can stand that, i can do anything.


About Lee Abrey

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11 responses to “Only 7 months until my birthday…

  • Ray Garton

    Wait … you cut out the sex? You CAN’T cut out the sex! When it comes to sex, there’s no such thing as too much or too explicit for ANY genre! The only crime that can be committed with sex scenes is bringing all forward motion in a book to a screeching halt. That doesn’t have to happen. Sex — and the dialogue, internal monologue during sex — can be used to keep the story moving, and sex can be used to reveal character. If you keep things moving forward AND have people fucking, editors will be wowed and readers will love you!

    I turned 47 in December. I’m just now SORT of starting to get used to having a 4 in front of my age. About the time I get comfortable with it, it’ll be replaced by a 5. I’m not at all happy about that, but I’m trying not to panic over it. They say you’re only as young as you feel, and I feel like a 20-year-old. But my wife won’t let me have one.

    • stinginthetail

      lucky i didn’t delete that version with the sex in it 🙂 i didn’t realise that re: sexual content, i was assuming people didn’t want it, no matter how entwined in character and plot it was.

      i was pleasantly surprised by my 30’s – omg, i’m still alive! – and then my 40’s were – wow, i’m still not dead! – so i’m quite looking forward to 50’s. No sense in panicking, though i’m good at panicking early in year, then forgetting about it.

      lol – yr wife won’t let you? gawd, partners can be mean 🙂

  • Ray Garton

    It’s true that there are people who don’t want sex in their books. We call them prudes. And there’s a secret about them — they SAY they don’t like sex in the books they read because they want everyone to know how pure and chaste and pious they are … but they read it, anyway. The good thing about merging the sex with story and character is that it removes their favorite complaint that the sex brings the story to a halt.

    Most of the horror novels I’ve written have fallen under the category of “erotic horror.” My first novel (1984’s SEDUCTIONS) involved vagina dentata. 1987’s LIVE GIRLS was about gorgeous vampires running a peep show in Times Square — they sucked blood from a vein, but it wasn’t in their victims’ necks. In RAVENOUS and BESTIAL, the werewolf “curse” is not spread with a bite — it’s a sexually transmitted disease. For years, there were always those who complained that there was too much sex in my fiction. Now, I’ve been doing it for so long that when I write something that DOESN’T have sex in it, people ask, “Where’s the sex?”

    • stinginthetail

      thanks so much for this advice 🙂 my writing’s always had sex in it, it’s a part of life, after all. I think (by cutting it) i may have been trying to please my mother, who famously told me “you’re such a good writer, darling, what a pity you can’t get your mind out of the gutter.”

      Thanks again, Ray – i feel mentored 😀

  • Ray Garton

    Ha! Your mother sounds like mine. My parents were strict Seventh-day Adventists (a pseudo-Christian cult that believes all fiction to be harmful, both spiritually and physically). Mom was and still is a very sheltered and naive woman, inexperienced and ignorant of the ways of people outside her religious cult. I was 19 when I wrote SEDUCTIONS and living at home at the time. One morning, I got up and sat down for breakfast. Mom said, “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I read that manuscript you’ve been working on.” I suddenly couldn’t breathe. She sat down at the table and gave me a look of grave concern. “I wish you wouldn’t write that sort of thing,” she said. “You’re too talented to waste your time on that smut.” She waited for me to respond and finally I said, “Well … what did you think of it?” She thought about that for a while, then responded very hesitantly. “I know that women … well, SOME women … do the things you describe in that book. I can accept that. But … surely … surely they don’t … SWALLOW it, do they?” It took an enormous effort not to fall out of my chair laughing. Finally, I stopped biting my tongue and said, “Yes, they do, Mom. Some do, anyway.” And she asked the inevitable question: “How do YOU know?” I told her, of course, that that was what I’d heard.

    • stinginthetail

      now that’s the kind of conversation that could traumatise a young man. 😀

      Mum isn’t religious, just concerned with “what people would think”. Everything revolves around keeping up appearances. People might judge her if her daughter writes something sexy – this from a woman who read “The Happy Hooker” and various other porn books when i was a kid. She’d probably deny it now, she’s busy re-writing her part in her own life. I was surprised to find recently that she’d never smoked or drank much at all. *rolls eyes*

  • Twitter Fail

    What is it with mothers? If we’re to believe what she has to say, we were all immaculately conceived. I don’t know whether she’s protecting us by not fessing up to the truth, or if she’s embarrassed. I don’t live by the same rules. I have lived hard, partied well, and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

    Now my daughter, she’s a 32 y/

  • Twitter Fail

    Holy Crap! I left your site in mid-thought and the cat submitted my comment. She’s still pissed off about the puppy.

    I’m not going to finish the thought – you can probably imagine something better than I would’ve written, anyway.

    PS: I want the purple & pink Hello Kitty tank. Awesome doesn’t even begin to describe it.

    • stinginthetail

      it’s weird, i don’t like Hello Kitty – but i love the weaponry and the armoured vehicles. Something about Japanese kitty kitsch and war – they go together.

      heh – my mum has already told me she really only had sex 4 times, pretty much against her will, (in 20 yrs?) and that was how she had 4 kids. Of course. I believe you, Mum. Apparently i have false memories of my childhood, of her and Dad laughing and messing around together.

      I wonder if yr cat was cruising off to find herself a Hello Kitty Kalashnikov to see to that dang dawg? 🙂 (Who looks more beautiful every time i see a pic. Loved the one of ‘dog and new toy’)

  • alittlesincerity

    Oh god, if only I had one of those, I could take over the world the easy way: with pop culture and bullets instead of adjectives and out of use punctuation. Sadly, I think I’m destined to purchase a Lady GaGa armored vehicle instead.

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