Category Archives: funny pic

Mostly human, probably NSFW

The blog’s Not Safe For Work. I, I will be partly pony. Yep, I’ve decided i’m not a real girl. Not a sex pony, you know, that’s not me. The ones you see on those bizarro reality TV documentaries acting out their childhood or teen angst by dragging leather/lycra-clad people around in carts.

“Of course,” they say to camera, while ‘owner’ cinches them into a corset, cos sure, that’s what ponies wear, “it’s a secret, my adult pony playing. That’s why i’m appearing on a sensationalist show that will be shown all around the world for the next 100 years.”

*Pony-play person neighs and tries to get lycra pony-suit out of her butt-crack with one of her plastic hooves. Eventually ‘owner’ takes pity on her and undoes the velcro holding the hoof on.*

Nope, that is so not me. I’m the bolshy kind of pony. The pony who crushes you against the fence, who stands on your foot, the one who bites you as you try to get into the saddle. Who, when you finally make it into the saddle, takes off at a gallop before suddenly dropping my head between my fetlocks and kicking up my back hooves. And smirks as you fly off into the nearest tree/mud/water/fence/brick wall.

And seriously – saddles are for the tamed. I won’t wear that kind of thing. I would like a new leather coat if someone’s offering, mine was eaten by mould when i lived in New South Wales.

Why am i a pony? Or Part-Pony? Being human’s not working for me. I’d be better off with hooves. Fully opposable ones, of course. My hair’s in my eyes, let’s call it a forelock and be done with it. I don’t have a tail, but we could put that down to a Terrible Accident. The alternative is one of these, and i am SO not going there.

Tasha-Reignbow-Pony-Tail-Plug-4-colors-326x326

Of course someone has made girly pony tails as sex toys. Everything else is also available, why not pony tails? And yes, that link is so NSFW you probably shouldn’t click it.
Some things you can’t unsee.

I’m not really a My Little Pony kind of pony. I will roll in mud, get brambles in my mane, and children will find me scary.

“Mummy! The pony’s looking at me funny!”
“Don’t be silly, darling, ponies don’t do that.”
“Mummy? The pony just said if i tell tales someone will cut my tongue out.”
“Jacinta!” Mummy tries not to shout. “We’ve had this discussion before, darling, we don’t pretend animals talk, do we?”

*Mummy decides it’s way past time for an afternoon white wine. Just out of her sightline, pony mimes cutting motion with one hoof across its throat.

Jacinta begins to hyperventilate.*

Why a pony? As i said, human’s getting harder. If i could survive on grass, lucerne, pony nuts, and the occasional apple i’d be much better off.

I’d be hyper-cute and Social Security wouldn’t be something to be afraid of any more.

631aa51827bbc2e94f128bcdbd1f99c8

My Little Ponies aren’t as nice as they pretend to be…

So, if i shift species i’ll be free of worry. All i have to do is keep Jacinta in line. How hard can that be?

Compared to dealing with government departments, coping with hate from idiots who think disabled people are all bludging fakes because MSM (Mainstream Media) and their own government tell them so?

I reckon ponyness poniness pony-ness will be a doddle in comparison.

devilpony

Do you feel lucky, Jacinta?
Well do ya?

copyright 2017 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com

Advertisements

Few words

Well, Donald Trump is about to be president of the USA – yeah, we might as well all go home, eh? I am trying to find the bright side – the Trans Pacific Partnership will now not be ratified by the US, which pretty much harpoons the TPP and Australia’s politicians’ lily-livered signing away of our nation to rich non-taxpaying corps.

Thankfully we should be spared most of the negative effects of politicians giving international corporations the power to sue local governments if they dare interfere with profit (by having laws against pollution, say), and the TPP’s power to give longer patents to drug companies so drugs would stay high priced longer.

However that’s about all i can think of when it comes to positive aspects to Trump winning the electoral college raffle and a bunch of gerrymandered electorates across America. It’s depressing that a racist, bigoted, anti-Semitic misogynist is now in charge, especially if you’re not an orange puffball who talks like he’s in the middle of an eighties coke inferno at a KKK rally.

So instead, go see First Dog on The Moon – he’s reliably funny and there is always the possibility of the Interpretative Dance Bandicoots, or the Wallaby Laser Death Festival. He even predicted, by accident (it was a joke!) Trump winning.

I feel better after some First Dog – i hope you do too.

copyright 2016 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Forty Days and Forty Nights….

Well, i cracked the Self-Imposed Social Media Exile after 40 days in the Desert and started dropping into Twitter. I missed Twitter. Facebook i missed so little it’s brought me to a decision.

Naturally, it was something i already knew but had buried under deluded ideas of book promotion.

I hate Facebook. There, it’s said. Hate. Hate. Hate. Well, dislike intensely, at the least. Anyone i like on Facebook, i already like on Twitter and their blogs. If we need more contact we have email and can talk on the phone.

My Facebook Account as Polo Shawcross (my writing alias) is Deactivated and this is now a Facebook-free zone. I’m going back to Twitter – where a person can be free.

Of course there's such a place as West Arsecrack - Google Earth doesn't know everything.

****

In other news, i was stuck on Book 2 #TheThing and couldn’t get past the first two chapters – then about 6am i woke up, and thought “That’s it!” Suddenly figured out there is a character missing from the first two chapters, (one who can easily be picked up) and now i can get on with writing.

****

Obligatory Bit Where I Try to Turn You On to E-Books
Mine In Particular

As one reader put it – “If JRR Tolkien, Douglas Adams, Jane Austen and Phillip K Dick were to collaborate on a book, they might write something like this.” It’s also been compared to Terry Pratchett, Connie Willis, and “like Carry On Blackadder meets The Graduate – with added stimulants.” So obviously i drugged everyone because they thought it was very funny too. If it would get me reviews, i would totally do it.

Polo Shawcross wishes for a new life, but the Birthday Dragon brings a ghost who says he’s not one, a best friend who thinks he’s gay, and a very bad reputation. Polo’s crazy extended family keep trying to kill him, and he becomes an unwilling party to treason. Adventure with more than one twist, set in a vivid new world where Men might be Dragons.

Book One of the Polo Shawcross Journals – “The Birthday Dragon” is currently Top 10 on the Smashwords Highest Rated Sci Fi & Fantasy charts and available in various formats including those to suit the Kindle or any other e-reader. You can read 20% free to see if you like it before you buy, and read the reviews in full. It’s not on Amazon, but it is on Smashwords, the Apple iBookstore (for iPads and other Apple devices), Barnes & Noble, Sony, Kobo and the Diesel eBook Store.

If you don’t have an e-reader but have a computer, there’s a free Amazon download that gives you the look and feel of an e-reader on a computer screen. (PC version is here and there’s a Mac version over here. PC version is very good, don’t know about the Mac one.)

copyright 2011 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com/


Welcome to the world of Emo PR

Second Competition was won by @agent_x and @bastardsheep who both get an ecopy – congratulations and enjoy.

****

Honestly, i have been trying to promote the book, but a death in the family (not my side) and a flood later, i’ve only managed a bunch of Tweets and a competition, and it’s already been 16 days since i published.

Oh yeah, and i joined Facebook, which i don’t know how to use. I’m Polo Shawcross on there, if you do know how to use it. I am good at friending back.

What i really need are reviews – i have one, now i have two! They both really liked the book, (i have the gift of making you want to turn the page – woot) and i achieved top rating – you can see reviews on the page the book’s on. Also, it’s not a kids’ book – it has sex and drugs, along with that page-turning adventure.

Humans bioengineered themselves, creating a new race, Dragon, and creating something that – quite accidentally – looked like magic.

Thousands of years later, their descendant Polo Shawcross is about to find out what it means to have a Dragon in the family.

link to my book "The Birthday Dragon"

So go see, read 20% free, or i’ll die, and it will be YOUR fault. Wait, have we done guilt already? I was going to make people read The Thing (as it’s affectionately known) by running through a gamut of manipulative emotional techniques.

Damn, i missed a trick with the floods, i could have deliberately made myself homeless and then whined about it online forever after, thereby garnering heaps of attention, probably a house from a well-meaning charity, and getting lots of pity sales. (Pity sales are like pity fucks, but the glow lasts longer.)

So, the floods: we’re alive, hasn’t reached house yet (though ran in a little at the back, with the wind), but the floods stopped a metre from the back door (a yard). We’re not doing too badly, not been declared a disaster area yet, though 30k’s north of us is. (Less than 20 miles.)

Oh wait, i’m supposed to be making a meal of this – not making out like we’re fine. If you don’t buy my book *looks pitiful* my house will fall into the lake! OMG, and it will be your fault!

We may still possibly flood later today/tonight or over the weekend – that will also be your fault, nothing to do with torrential rains, bad storms, and stupid people building houses in flood zones.

Sorry, i don’t think i can manage this emo thing – do i have to cut myself? I am not at all sure i’ll be able to keep a straight face. Maybe i could persuade some professional victim to do it, and film it, pretend it’s me? Sounds plausible.

I reckon it’s much easier to bribe you, so here it is. Buy the book or when i take over the world you will be the first to the wall. Hang on, i do think that may have been a threat, not a bribe. I’m really not good at PR.

However, if you join me in the glorious revolution – yeah, yeah, you only have to buy the book, or at least read the first few pages (you are allowed to decide not to read, we’re a despot, but we’re fair) – then you’ll be sweet.

If all goes according to plan, we’ll all be living in Queensland with our Hello Kitty Kalashnikovs, in our own private enclave. Yes, you may have to occasionally peel grapes, but you’ll be alive. Worth thinking about, eh?

In the meantime, i’ve decided on another competition – because some PR is better than none, or at least i’m assuming.

This competition, I was considering something cool like infiltrating the Vatican, but then i remembered this, and realised there’s no need.

So, for competition number 2just follow the simple instructions at the top of this post.

I personally don’t like reading on the comp – but i discovered that both Adobe and Amazon do free PC versions of their readers which make it rather pleasant.  (Amazon Kindle for Mac is here.) There are also plenty of apps for that, i believe some of those are free, but phones just aren’t my speciality – someone mentioned Stanza for the iPhone as being good (and also free, at least to try).

People are also put off ebooks by the awfully intrusive DRM copy protection – my book is on Smashwords and (like all their books) doesn’t have DRM copy-protection.

This makes their books much easier to download, and you can have them on different devices without problems. Also, if your machine loses its data, you can still get another copy of the version you bought.

I am aiming at a print version – would love to do a limited edition artwork – but until i sell rather a lot of $4.99 ebooks, that’s for later.

****

Oh dear,  i think the lake is rising again. *sighs and looks as if i might cry* Okay, so you’re feeling guilty? Excellent – do have a look at my book.  😀

****

STOP PRESS – am in the Smashwords Premium Catalogue,

(no, you don’t pay for it, you have to meet certain requirements,

and be read by their staff)

so now *drumroll*….

The Birthday Dragon by Polo Shawcross is now available

at the Apple iBookstore, Barnes & Noble, Sony, Kobo and Diesel.

Even later STOP PRESS… the lake has returned its usual place, at the end of the garden, no longer touching distance from the house. For this, we are rather grateful.

Copyright 2011 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com/


I’m going to peel and salt Justin Bieber…

I’m going to be nice for a whole post. Stop laughing. I can do it. Alright, i probably can’t. So i’ll let the voices-outside-my-head do a post and i can go back to editing The Thing. (I’m two-thirds through the edit, for those following that thrilling saga.)

The last time the voices-outside-my-head did a post, it was New Year and i was going through my usual dislocated why-doesn’t-the-weather-match-the-Christmas-cards annual fugue, and the voices wished you joy in your life. I said you shouldn’t be fucktards. Both good bits of advice.

****

Life can be an awful experience. No doubt about it. Bad things happen to good people and to bad ones, with no regard to who deserves it. No use getting stressed over it. Stress releases cholesterol into your blood stream, and it’s a fatty gunk that coats your arteries, and eventually blocks them. Use the energy to do something about what’s stressing you, but don’t just sit there.

It’s part of the old fight-or-flight-or-bugger-them-with-a-cactus reflex. The idea is you’ll burn that fat wielding your Cactus of Justice, or running away. If all you do is sit on your arse and shout, the way I do a lot, you’ll end up with high blood pressure, because your cloggy arteries are too small for the blood flow and your heart is over-worked. Oops, you just stroked out. (I’m not sure the voices should have let me type this, it’s much more cranky than they intended.)

Now, i don’t have high blood pressure, or high cholesterol, (any more), because i stopped worrying and learned to take joy in the moment. It’s not a permanent state, but it’s enough of the time that even with the extra weight i’m carrying, and my perpetual raging at the machine (on here and on Twitter), I’m not risking my life because i care.

Joy is where you find it. Watching nature, walking, cooking, making things, doing that perfect spreadsheet and knowing you’re going to make it financially through another month. Okay, so i’m not sure anyone but me gets that last one, but i totally love that feeling of being in the moment – i can get it washing up.

The big thing about the moment? Your brain is ostensibly off. You’re completely focused on the task in hand, even if that’s as simple as admiring the feather on a bird’s wing or that algebra formula.

You might be using your brain, focusing on some job, and the work might be hard, but you know you’re on the way to a goal, so it’s fine. And everything switches off. All worry, all care, all of it. You keep going, doing good work.

You come to, some time later. And often the solutions to problems are right there, as your ostensibly switched-off brain nutted out the answers while you were cleaning the silver.

We repeat. The word ‘enjoy’ means ‘with joy’ – so enjoy your life. Have it with joy. What else are you going to do with it? If you don’t like it, for most of us in the Western world at least, there are other solutions, like changing it.

You thought i was going to say ‘then top yourself if you don’t like it here’? Honestly, I’m the Antichrist, not a jingoistic right wing Earth patriot. I can imagine us in the future, snapping at alien immigrants the way the nasty little one nation types do. “If you don’t like this planet, then get off it!”

****

That’s all, i can’t stand it. It goes against the grain, being nice. What with me being the Queen of Darkness and proxy Antichrist. New readers may be wondering how i got to be the Antichrist, and all i’m saying is that even the Antichrist turned out to respond to a good clout across the earhole with a walking stick, and is still in a coma. I have his passwords. Nuff said.

As for being the Queen of Darkness, that’s a much older story – when i used to be in a band, i was shouting about something i’d read about Christian fundamentalists, and said, “They’re so sure they’re on the side of Light. If that’s Light, then i’m the Queen of Darkness.” (Originally there was swearing, because it’s the only language muso’s understand.)

That was nearly 20 years ago, old news. The Antichrist gig is fairly new. But hey, i’m told i get to peel and salt the emos, and i can do what i like with Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. At the moment, i’m edging towards using the Gleaming Instruments of Death, but maybe the Cactus of Justice would do the trick.

Oh come on, who doesn’t want to torture Justin Bieber to death? Just for the fringe, people! Just for the fringe!As for Lady Gaga, well seriously, does anyone neeed a reason? Her whole schtick of pseudo-vulnerability wrapped in emo pouting deserves divine retribution.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


The Dustbunnies Are Revolting…

It seems my life’s made up of waiting at the moment.

Waiting to see if:

  1. I actually die of this flu, or survive another year in NSW, the State of Unhealthiness
  2. the Hot Young Singer takes up the option to record my song, (which may, of course, never result in any real money, but it’s a nice thought)
  3. The Reader will confirm my thoughts about the edits required on The Thing, (the book i’m writing).

I’m filling my time with good work, though my back’s not good, so am working above the knee. Below there, things are getting crunchy. I’m sure one day soon i will both clean the bath, and the kitchen floor. Before anyone gets irreparably stuck to either.

In the meantime, I’ve warned Mr Whatsit (whose back is so bad he tends to keep things above the hip), to keep a spatula handy to free himself, and me, i’m pretending i can’t see the mess below knee level, and wearing slippers a lot. I have actually started spring-cleaning (it’s that time of year here), and above the knee and up the walls, have dusted, wiped, and dusted again.

Let this be a lesson to you, when they say the chimney at the local power station removes visible smoke, i think it gets visible again when it arrives on surfaces. Or in your lungs. *cough*

Patience, my arse, I'm going to kill something...

Also still waiting, on any of the several ways i have of leaving New South Wales and returning to Queensland. (Not my native home, that’s Western Australia, but Queensland is where i used to live and where i want to go back to.) Sadly, the Invasion Tour of Queensland ’09 which was made ’10, is now looking early 2011. God al-effing-mighty.

When you’re stuck somewhere, and leaving is all the time imminent, it’s so hard to get involved in anything. You feel you can’t get involved in local groups, because you’re about to leave, so what’s the point? Before you know it, that spreads into your personal life too.

You stop trying to achieve goals because you have a new life, starting tomorrow, in a new place. What you do today doesn’t matter, because tomorrow, everything’s going to change.

Fortunately, one of the things i’ve learned is that in times of waiting, it’s possible to achieve a lot, if you just use the time. I had a partner once who was always late, and i learned not to waste my time, waiting for people, or things. This period in NSW has been a hiatus of sorts, but i’ve produced an incredible amount of writing work, and thanks to the local library (reading how-to-write books and most of their novels), and the net, have learned so much more about my craft.

Of course, no guarantees in my life, other than, there will be uncertainty. I might still be here this time next year, though i hope not, another winter here in the House of Doom (it has mould) is something i’d rather not face.

I have several options regarding getting back to Queensland, but  none of them are things i can influence. They’re all reliant on other people’s actions and there’s not a damn thing i can do. The only certainty is uncertainty.

So of course, i’m chafing to throw myself back into The Thing where i can hide in a world of my own creation. It’s been read once, edited/corrected, is being read again, about to undergo 2nd edit, then it goes out to two new readers. Letting other people read your work is terribly exciting and scary, but so far other people reading it (and me taking time out) has been so good for the text, i’m hopeful that the next stage will also be positive.

Then what? Well, omg, then i think i need an agent. I have lists of websites, notes of possibilities, and the vague idea of self-publication if necessary. I’m praying the moment i say, The Thing is done, one of the nice agents i follow has secretly been nursing a desire to publish it and snaps it up. Unfortunately, i’m pretty sure all my agent tweeple (i think i have two), don’t do sci fi fantasy.

As for The Thing itself, I have the story mapped out, at least in vague terms, as it continues through the next few books. The nature of the story lends itself to a computer game, i have some notions for merchandising, and i suppose i’ll need a real website, instead of this hosted one.

Gawd, i think i’ll go hide under the bed for a while.

*****

The dustbunnies forced me out, they’d formed an army and were knitting rope out of all the shed hair.

cute but dangerous - srsly, they may contain all kinds of heavy metals

So while i waited for the insecticide to work, I had a chat with First Reader about my thoughts on where the ending should be.

Basic plot was of the hero’s adventures from 15-20: during his last year of school, at a university, in the army (for three years), and then as a kind of diplomat. I was sure i’d tried to stuff too much in, and Book 1 should end at point where, during a drunken rampage, he joins army.

Reader agrees, phew, so am now able to start some work without needing Reader to be finished his second read. (i’ve done an initial edit after printing out the original.) He’s a published writer, so a useful resource. It’s important to me that readers give me more back than just whether they liked it or not.

So now I have cut book back to where hero joins army, which as book was too long, brings it to within about 15,000 words of where it should be. (Cut bits now form outline of Books 2 & 3.) It makes a lot more sense like this, i was trying to stuff way too much in.

So the plan now:

  1. i rejig chapters
  2. do chapter summaries and note chapter lengths (will expose where there’s too much stuffed into chapter, or a thread could be expanded)
  3. with saved space, and 15k to play with, i will kick The Thing around, beat it with sticks, and then
  4. send to the next round of readers. Along with First Reader, I have a girl reader and a boy reader for round 2, both scifi fantasy fans.
  5. pray the mould in the house abates and my nose stops running

With spring having sprung here, am hopeful we will at last break the flu cycle – doctors round here say this year, a lot of people who usually have flu shots all ended up with flu so early in the season, they were never able to get well enough to get the shot.

This year, I’m going to have mine right after bloody Christmas.

*****

Oh – and after we’d been waiting for six months (you may remember we rescued a boat from the lake and were told we had salvage rights), the police finally decided to contact someone about the boat, (after Mr’s 4th phonecall).

Once we were pirates....

I’d tried to find a stolen boat register, but only came up with a site that offered to check a list for me for a sizeable fee. We were trying to return the thing to its rightful owner, why should we pay?

Turns out there was a report of a stolen boat. Which anyone in authority could have looked at six months ago. Before the boat killed the lawn.  Still, it’s nice the owner’s finally getting it back.

Us? We didn’t even get a thank you.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


I Killed The Thing…

Well, not killed it, so much as moved to a new version. I spent several days at Easter staring at the first page, wondering why i hated it so much. (The Thing is my work-in-fitful-progress.)

I loved it when i mapped out the plot and began, i still liked the plot, but six months later, it felt like i was trying to re-animate a corpse. Was this one of those times when i’d feel better about it, if i just put The Thing away for a few days (or a week, or a month, or six months)? Or was it honestly crap?

Then it came to me. I hated the main character. Detested him. He wasn’t easy to write, (everyone else i could relate to, but not him). I didn’t get what motivated him, in fact, very little did. I never made it inside his head. Despite killing several of his family and friends, he never showed any real emotion. I gave him kinky sex, made him think he was gay, but nothing made any impact.

Six months into The Thing, i had to make a decision. So that’s what i did over Easter. Then, i decided that the basic plot was fine, it was HIM. Somehow, he’d turned into a ponce. Gay, even effeminate i could deal with. Cross dressing, yep, no worries. But he was a boring little fart. I tried killing his father, crippling his mother, abandoning him, making him king too young, but nothing had any impact.

So, there was only one thing to do. It was Easter Sunday. I started again. I now have a new Thing. Son of Thing. Zombie Thing. Thing Mark II. It’s great. I’m enjoying it, he’s a real boy! The plot’s the same, so it’s easy, there’s bits of the old one i can reuse. Well, so far, one bit, a one-line joke from a character.

****

That’s where i’m at. Hope you’re well. Along with my trials with The Thing and its Children, I’ve had the most traumatic severance from my Twitter fix, after Mr Whatsit went mad looking at camping videos online.

Yeah, i know, most people blow their downloads on porn. He’s weird. The main culprit was the Teardrop Camper, a tiny caravan. (This pic’s on the Aussie site for them – click pic for a look.)

Cute as, but Mr Whatsit watching the “How To Build Your Teardrop” vids on YouTube gave us a highest web traffic day EVER. We recently raised our download speed, with the resultant ability to watch vids we can’t afford to download.

Oh LOLZ, phone company, we didn’t see that coming. And the next upgrade costs $20 a month, of course. Just out of reach. I nearly strangled Mr for going over the limit. Without Twitter, being plugged into the news, and being able to look at cute pics, what would my life be?

God, that’s sad, eh? Seriously. I thought so, so tried out the old ‘cold kitteh’ cure. To my surprise, i didn’t die with no baby animals to look at. I did manage 7,000 words on The New Thing. Then the end of the billing month came. I could look at baby animals again.

Did i show you this already? Best baby hippo pic so far.

Squee! indeed.
Pic from the Daily Squee, click to visit.

Unless cute freaks you out.
But it’s not that bad, it’s not Hello Kitty kind of cute.

****

Meanwhile, i think a large part of The Thing’s problems are due to point of view. Telling the story from the viewpoint of a friend of the original person will make it even better.

Yes, it’s now “Friend of Thing“.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


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.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Die Already, Emo

To be clear, when i say emo, i’m not necessarily talking about moody teens following a musical fashion, with long fringes and too small tshirts. That’s pretty normal teen behaviour, wanting to be different by dressing exactly the same and writing very bad poetry.

My emos are those who exist to milk your pity, otherwise known as the professional victims.

I am NOT talking about the genuinely depressed.

Here’s a therapist’s account of dealing with professional victims. As she says, The victim posture is the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy. By wallowing in the passivity and supposed powerlessness of the victim, one becomes blind to all opportunities and outlooks that do not conform to the supine posture of the victim.

One might call it “self-victimization,” but the point is that it is voluntary.”

I quite often (just by law of averages, not intentionally) read emo blogs or Twitter profiles written by professional victims. I’ve found that emos come in all ages, and that men are just as happy to use misery to manipulate as women are.

There’s a fair number looking for money for nothing, others pretend to sell you something.  A pity purchase. Others are hoping for a pity fuck, or even a pity relationship. Many are hoping you will take pity action and donate to them or their cause, or write to the government on their behalf. I even had one saying “buy my book, help me help myself, instead of just handing your money straight to me like i was a charity case.” Um, yeah. But your book is crap.

They may be partnered, or not, the pro victim doesn’t stop whining because they find a partner, (especially if the old partner starts to realise they’ve been suckered, or the new partner is actually an emo too), and they’re happy to move on to a new sucker any time they find one.

Some of them whine on behalf of others “the poor [insert disadvantaged group/animal here] – feel sorry for them!!!!” and some run charities – some even do so without taking a wage and when they’re in need of charity themselves. Even when helping others, they have to be victims. It’s how they get off. It’s what gets those emo juices flowing. Mmmm….  suffering. Woo hoo!

Oops, did emo just lose their home because they weren’t paying attention to real life? No problem, they can write a blog about it, and garner lots of attention. Of course, using their (poor homeless) kids to manipulate your emotions is part of the deal. Münchhausen’s Syndrome, where people deliberately make themselves ill for medical attention, is classic professional victim. Münchhausen’s by Proxy, where they harm their children to get attention, is too.

Emos are addicted to trying to manipulate emotions by exposing their suffering. However, you are not getting the whole story. That they made themselves homeless, ill, or poor, is never mentioned, except to show you how it’s never their fault. A lot of people stay a little wary, thinking there’s something not quite right, but others fall in head-first to the emo trap.

Once someone is sucked in by the pro victim, it’s like the sucker is in love. There is nothing you can do to make them see the truth. Even if you provide documentary evidence that their emo is actually a manipulative piece of pond-life, you will often be accused of lying to discredit the poor victim. Victim is the operative word – they must always be the victim, even when bravely speaking out on behalf of other people suffering in similar ways.

Ever told someone that the person they love is cheating on them? That their self-help guru stole all his/her ideas from Norman Vincent Peale (one of the first ‘self help gurus’)? If you haven’t, let’s just say that hell may have no fury like a woman scorned, but burst someone’s sucker bubble and you’ll find out what real hell is. The suckered may come to hate the one who suckered them, but they’ll hate you more. You will earn the enmity of both people. I know this from real life experience, more than once. It never works out well. For anyone.

I think that secretly, like the cuckolded do, suckers know when they’re being played – the signs are there. However, the suckers deliberately blind themselves to what the pro victim is doing – milking their pity and manipulating their emotions. Eventually, the sucker should come to their senses, usually when they notice something about the pro victim. Emos don’t want healing or practical help. If you leave a sympathetic note on their site, saying how they can get real help in their area, they will delete your post. If they followed your advice, they would have to pull their head out of their arse and stop whining.

The more they whinge, the more people pay attention. Pro victims have their metaphorical (and sometimes actual) hands down their pants over this – it’s better than sex or kink play, because they don’t have to give anything, they just whine and bitch and moan, and everyone pays attention! It’s something for nothing, which is exactly what they’re looking for. If you offer real help, especially the kind where they have to do something for themselves, you’re trying to stop their performance, and that makes you something to be destroyed.

Even if someone physically rescues them, the pro victim will be back in their chosen forum (Twitter, their blog, a chat room, MSN, the cafeteria), inside a week, complaining about how the place they’re in now has weird-coloured walls and they have to clean their own room. Not only that, their rescuer is being mean, because they say the pro victim should stop wallowing in self-pity.

So the emo complains and whinges some more, about how awful their current circumstances are. It’s so good, they may even cut themselves.  Someone comes along, says, “Oh, how dreadful, don’t you have anywhere else to go?” And emo has hooked another sucker.

I have this to say to emos…

You want to play the victim? Don’t come to me. I don’t tolerate you in real life, and I won’t online. I’m not interested in being a sucker for you. I’ve been there, done that, and consequently have a low threshold for bullshit. You want to cut yourself? Go ahead, sweetie, and can i help you find the vein so you do it properly? Emos are experts at not harming themselves when they cut – it’s not to kill themselves, it’s purely to get attention and to look tragic.

I knew one (in his 40’s, true emos are all ages), who would drive to the Emergency Department at his local hospital, and park within sight of it – so there would be no risk of him bleeding to death if he slipped with his sterile scalpels. He had dressings too. His mobile phone was right there, charged up, emergency services on speed dial, in case he couldn’t walk the 20m (20 yds) to the door. After a couple of hours in the A&E, getting all the attention he craved, he would come online, asking people if they wanted to see his cuts on webcam. Hysterically, (laugh or cry, your choice), he was on a kink dating site, advertising himself as a dominant male.

The best thing to do with emos – like all attention whores – is deny them the oxygen of attention. Yep, just ignore them. Occasionally remind others that if someone wants to stay miserable, it’s best to leave them that way. You see emos a lot on Twitter – people saying, “So and so was mean to me, everybody hate them on my behalf. i can has mai victimhood nao? kthxbai”

Some people even attract emos. If you feel you should help the helpless, watch out, you might just be on a hiding to nothing, trying to help someone whose idea of heaven is whining about all the reasons no one can help them. It’s very tempting to be mean when they turn on you for daring to say, “Well, happiness is a choice.” It’s not a choice to them, one doesn’t get attention for being happy. What are you, nuts?

That scent in the air is the scent of burning martyr, so a person being mean (or someone an emo can represent to others as being mean), is fodder for the pyre of their victimhood.

Still, sometimes, I just can’t help myself. I snap back.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


I Am The Traffic Cone on Your Highway…

I detect a sense of Christmas obsession in those who accidentally visited this blog in the last week. Now (i think) i know why My House Is Trying To Kill Me (the old post on mould/mold) is getting so much traffic – it’s people looking for gingerbread.

I hope you enjoyed the rant on the stupidity of doctors, the cruelty of real estate agents, the possibly pertinent advice on health, and the pretty gingerbread house pic. At least i cited the pic’s origin, so they wouldn’t waste their time, and meanwhile, decuisine (where pic comes from) is getting a lot of hits from me. ‘Tis the season for giving, right?

I’m the Antichrist, this jolly Christmas bollocks doesn’t come naturally.

****

Thought for the Day: Did you take time to muse on the exquisite cruelty of Google, that brings you interesting things to read when you really don’t have time to get distracted by a blog?

****

The gingerbread thing is out of control out there…