Category Archives: other pic

The Birthday Dragon

Hold onto your pink bits, Beloved Visitors. The Birthday Dragon is published!

The Birthday Dragon  – out now, on Smashwords

In Sendren, Men might be Dragons, after long ago gene-tweaking created a new race, Dragon. Their descendant Polo contends with suicidal sheep, crazy parents, and checking every woman in the village off his ‘to be bedded’ list. Suddenly, life becomes about staying alive long enough to find out what it means to have a Dragon in the family.

The Birthday Dragon
(Opens in a new window)

You can read 20% of it for free.  (Also known as #TheThing if you follow me on Twitter.)  E-book only at this point. If you don’t have an ebook reader, you can read it in Word or in Acrobat, (or print from there) and snazzy free software readers are available.

http://www.adobe.com/products/digitaleditions/

http://www.amazon.com/
(you need to register an Amazon account – need an email address) then
download their free Kindle app’s.

And yes, you can read 20% – about 25,000 of my words. It’s quite up to you if you buy or not. As always, i’m a benevolent despot. I won’t track you down and get Biblical on you for not buying.

I won’t hang around your doorstep crying, rending my sackcloth, shedding ashes, and asking why why why i have such fickle blog readers and twitter followers.

Do  you like how i’m experimenting with the easy emotions first? We’ll try guilt to start with, move on to the kewl things like lust.

Or you could part with five bucks. ($4.99 US cos it’s on a US site.)

UPDATE –  18 months later, after many adventures now reduced to $2.99 – Book 2 & 3 due out together *crosses fingers* about mid 2013


If you can’t get the links to work, just go to
http://www.smashwords.com/
and enter book ID 63 286

****

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

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Drumroll, please…

I am about to publish The Thing. It’s not called The Thing, but that’s shorter to tweet, and anyway, it’s changed name a few times.

I did try to do my own artwork – my graphics pen exploded stopped working after over a decade’s trusty service – the results were dire.

After i whined about that on Twitter, Derek (who happened to have read the book and has his own design company) said he had an idea. I told him i had no money, and he said he still had an idea. I loved it.

****

Cover of my book "The Birthday Dragon"

Briefly…

People are crazy, or they can be, Blood or peasant. Polo’s eyes say he belongs in his mother’s world, but he’s not sure. He gets the chance to find out when he’s sent to the Court of the Fourth Theodore.

The Birthday Dragon is the first book of The Polo Shawcross Journals, and is set on the isolated planet of Galaia in the Sigma Quadrant, where Men might be Dragons, in the aftermath of gene-tweaking thousands of years in their past.

Released on Smashwords in June.

(when released, there will be a decent free chunk to sample
and i will post links here)

Cover design/artwork by Derek Armsden Design

dadesign.net.au

The Birthday Dragon” Copyright 2011  Polo Shawcross

Copyright 2011 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


Zen in the New Year…

Life goes on. Even for the Antichrist. Bought a tiny birdbath, ($35 for a terracotta one from Bunnings? Even i can afford that). Being treated to all kinds of parrot-play.

On hot days, i’ll top it up a few times, as they queue up to drink and swim, while the ones who can’t get in play in what’s splashed out. What, the Antichrist can’t have a birdbath?

A pair of lorikeets having a dipI did put that pic up on Twitpic a couple of weeks ago. It’s taken through the glass of the back wall, next to my desk. Should have had it on Sports, that’s just Through Glass – trusty Olympus Stylus 840 did well. I have a fantastic view usually, but since the birdbath it’s even better.

The lorikeets are just like people. Some don’t like getting their heads wet, others are afraid to let go of the edge. Some are like Aqua Parrot, dive in, soaking themselves, splashing, standing on their heads, and then flapping their wings in a rainbow ecstasy of joy. They all, no matter how wet they get, just love it. It’s hard not to get distracted.

Still, i figure it’s good to take a moment, observe joy, and hold it close to your heart. Let it fill you, and then share it with the world. Barring serious chemical imbalances, you always have a choice – to choose misery, or happiness.

I personally believe that choosing misery often enough means you can cause the chemical imbalances. I’ve seen too many people do it over the years. Choose to be happy, instead.

May joy find you in 2010.

****

This post brought to you (so far) by the voices-outside-my-head, who are much nicer than moi. Me, for 2010, i hope you stop being a fucktard. That would be nice.

I hope you stop pretending politicians, the news, TV, the media generally, your religious leaders, and the people trying to sell you things, won’t lie to you. I don’t lie to you, but then i don’t need your vote, or your arse on a seat in the congregation – you see, that’s what the AK47’s are for.

I hope you start reading labels, and don’t fall for crap like “eco-friendly” when it’s made of polyurethane, or other petroleum derivatives. (Yes, i’m looking at you, supermarket “green” bag.)

Don’t believe “low GI” or “low fat” can be good for you, or your kids, when the product is 50% sugar. (Yes, chocolate hazelnut spread, kids’ chocolate cereals, and chocolate malt ‘energy drink’ marketed as low GI food for kiddies, i’m looking at you. )

Pay attention to words, dear Minions of Darkness Beloved Visitors. That’s where the meaning is, no matter what the litcrit crazies tell you. I hope you learn the difference between marketing and truth. Hint: one is not actually true.

Oh yeah, and i hope you have a good time. Choose fun. Tell anyone who asks, the Queen of Darkness made you do it. She’s the Antichrist, you can explain, and it lays the groundwork for your defence on insanity grounds. (And mine.)

Yep, providing the real Antichrist doesn’t come out of the coma before the Rapture, (and he won’t once i tap him on the head with a good length of heavy hickory), we’re set.

2010 is going to be an excellent year.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


welcome to my award-winning blog

I was up to my neck in The Thing (my work in progress), only sticking my head into Twitter once a day, not to mention neglecting my blog except for apology posts – the ones you make when you need to let everyone know you are still alive  – when @Jean_Blore named me as her favourite Kreativ Blogger. *happy dance* I’m thrilled. *preens*

To my surprise, people have been visiting in quite large numbers. I feel so guilty. I don’t know why so many of you are reading “Argh, My House is Trying To Kill Me” but hey, it’s real nice. I’ve been linked somewhere, and am not getting any notification of where.

I love my blog, and want to write more, but i only have so many personalities. We are not infinite. Well, not completely, yet. I’m completely focused on The Thing, which is about 75,000 words in, out of a total of 110,000 – it’s a fantasy sci fi – means i can have dragons and biodegradable plastics.

kreativ-blogger award - woot!

I’m so chuffed with this Kreativ Blogger Award. (Chuffed is good.) Anyway, there are rules. Rules freak us out, but we’re going to be good and list them here.

Now, these are the rules for this award…

1. Copy and paste the picture above, onto your own blog.
2. Thank the person who gave you the award and post a link to their blog.
3. Write 7 things about yourself we do not know.
4. Choose 7 other bloggers to award.
5. Link to those 7 other bloggers.
6. Notify your 7 bloggers.

Thanks for this, Jean, it means a lot. I met Jean via her blog, I think, (though we also keep in touch on Twitter) and we just clicked. I love the slice of Bangalorean life that is The Garden City LENS.

Which brings us to things you didn’t know about us. I mean, me. Gosh, it’s so hard to differentiate sometimes. I have no edges.

  1. I told you about being raised by Siamese Cats. However, I didn’t tell you how i nearly got a job as a dominatrix, but decided against it. I’m quite in favour of doing evil things to people, but i do have to be attracted.
  2. Gawd, i’ve shared way too much, i’m stuck for secrets. Ooh, i just read Jean’s post again. She’s a Leo. I’m a Scorpio. Yes, i did mention my birthday, but not specifically that i was a Scorpio. For those already backing away from the blog, I’m highly evolved, and hardly ever kill people for revenge.
  3. I’m a natural blonde.
  4. My first poem was when i was seven, about ponies. My mother holds the only copy and is blackmailing me with it.
  5. Dad died in ’02, and i’m the only one of my family to make my peace with him before he died. He often visits, which is disconcerting.
  6. That probably brings us to a really decent secret: I see dead people. Well, hear them better than i see them. Not just dead people. An assortment of entities.
  7. Which explains this one: I used to work as a psychic. I don’t really like taking money for it, which is a shame, because there’s obviously heaps of dollars to be made. We can see how it goes, first, you need to get yourself classified as a religion.

Damn, i was quite enjoying being the centre of attention there. However, we haz rules. Here’s a selection of favourites from my Twitter lists.

It was a toss up between all seven for my current favourite, but Tweet_Fail it has to be, i visit her blog most. The others are not in any particular order, i haven’t tried to sum them up too much, other than i enjoy them all, and recommend a read.

  1. @tweet_fail
    http://www.twitter-fail.com/
    My Kreativ Blogger award goes to: a woman and a bird, who’ve become dear friends. (I have a Tweet Fail tshirt, photos pending.) The blog makes me laugh – and they’re right: some people just don’t get Twitter.
  2. @Kimota
    http://www.jonathancrossfield.com/blog/
    Always some kind of quality writing, whether funny or thoughtful.
  3. @Bern_Morley
    http://www.bernmorley.blogspot.com
    I’ve promoted Bern here before, so let me just say her blog is worth a read. You may laugh, you may cry.
  4. @NatalieGreen
    http://www.colourfulwords.blogspot.com/
    More quality writing – her recent post on lying to children was a classic.
  5. @Gabfran
    http://lawandshoes.wordpress.com/
    I love this blog – humour, fashion, law, and Gabfran’s mind.
  6. @rickofawesome
    http://www.sitdownforthis.blogspot.com/
    Rick’s just great – good writing, funny, and i like his mind.
  7. @shoppologist
    http://shoppologist.blogspot.com/
    the science of shopping, and getting shoppers to spend – fascinating. (And i won his book in a competition!)

So, there they be, and i think any one of them is worth a visit.
Thanks again, Jean. I’ve enjoyed this.

****

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


so, how big is your virtual penis?

I dropped in on the Bloggess’s blog – i want a Jenny doll that dispenses pills and vodka, is nearly raped by giraffes (that was a couple of months ago), screams at Victor, oh, yeah, and offers William Shatner a hooker *snigger*  – there’s a merchandising opportunity for someone.

WAIT! Don’t click that link, you’ll be gone for hours, read the rest of this one, then go enjoy the Bloggess.

She mentioned Robert Scoble (aka @Scobelizer) unfollowing people on Twitter. So, through Jenny, (as i then checked) i discovered Mr Scoble had unfollowed me – i was one of the 102,000. (This is me resisting the urge to scream SPARTA and attack Mr Scoble with a short sword.) He now only follows people he knows, fellow-geeks, and (powerful) people he admires. [note, i had to change the link after Mr Scoble removed the post – that link’s on Mashable, and they also reference the post he removed.]

WAIT! Don’t click that link either, it’s not relevant. *takes the safety off the Hello Kitty Kalashnikov* Don’t make me shoot you before i give you the potted version.  Oh frick, i suppose you’re going to read it now.

It’s basically him saying omg how amazing, if you pay attention to who your followers on Twitter are, and don’t just follow back blindly, you have a better experience. Shock, horror! (Alright, so he has interesting bits on his blog you might like, i suppose you could look at it after you read The Bloggess.)

He followed TheBloggess back after a few hours. She’s both admirable and powerful (and should be getting megabucks *gives meaningful stare at those who have megabucks*), and he knows her in real life *sighs* triple whammy.

Anyway, i didn’t mind him unfollowing, it was silly of him to be following me, as we don’t talk; i’m not a geek (i am not! I haven’t programmed in a decade and i was never interested, I only did it because it was useful); i’m not famous or powerful, (yet); and anyway, i stopped following him back in about April. (I joined Twitter in mid March 09.)

We don’t actually have anything in common, aside from following @TheBloggess on Twitter. He’s a technological evangelist, I’m the Antichrist. Which probably means we do have things in common, but we haven’t figured that out yet. I’ve unfollowed people on Twitter only to discover months later that i really enjoy their tweets, and i refollow.

Interesting fact about Twitter that i learned from his blog – even with 1,000 people, you start losing tweets – that is, they don’t show up. I’ve noticed this at busy times (when the USA is online) with only 400 i’m following, and 500 followers.

Now, i don’t refollow automatically, (since the first time someone spammed me), and i block anyone who’s actually a spammer so they can’t follow me.

The ‘lost tweets’ do seem to show up later for me, but i don’t get that many @ replies in my tweetstream (check  out how many people are tweeting strange things @ someone famous – it’s scary) and most of my stream aren’t directed @ me. Still interesting that the more people, the less you’re able to actually communicate with them on Twitter.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking wow, he only just realised that being spammed on Twitter sucks. I was writing blogs on that months ago. We’re talking about a man who joined back in… ooh, was it 20 November 2006?

Evidently, when he was following 102,000 people or so, (he autofollowed everyone back), he kept getting spammed. As we’d say in Australia, “Dur, Fred.” (Means “I thought that was obvious.”)

He also got a lot of pure advertising on his main Twitter screen, (say it aint so! who knew?!) and since he unfollowed everyone, (then followed back who he actually wanted to follow – gosh, there’s a radical concept), he’s lost the advertising! And no-one is spamming his DM box!

Where’s the facepalm icon? Do you know anyone who facepalms in real life? I don’t. I am not sure I know how. WTF is a facepalm anyway? Excuse me while i consult the oracles. Oh, wait, i DO know what a facepalm is, we didn’t call it that before. (In real life, Mr Whatsit just facepalmed about something unrelated. Talk about life imitating art!)

Stop facepalming me!

Mind you, while you’re busy judging me for that blonde moment – there are 190 people commenting on this dude’s blog (though some also said their regional equivalent of  “Dur, Fred”).

Usually, not even 1 in 10 visitors comment, so the number of people reading him in a week is way more than my Beloved Visitors in total since March. *shines the Beloved Visitors and puts out the tea things* Yes, preciouses, you shall have crumpets with marmalade.

If i have ONE comment, i chuck a party! I get excited just knowing someone drops in EVERY day. Yes, you’re here looking for porn, but i don’t judge you! Actually, two people came here looking for “Malcolm Turnbull humour”and one for “bloody hello kitty” and there have been – as i predicted in previous posts – some lost ornithologists.

Porn visitors are still my main accidental market. *sighs* It’s the net, i really shouldn’t expect much more. Note the desperate, misspelled “real sex doll” hunters are out in force, but i do well from mentioning native animals – this is what Search Engine Optimisation experts don’t tell you – budgies are good for hits.

Feel i should add, i didn’t deliberately do this, it’s like the eunuchs, i was just expressing myself, said ‘penectomy’, and i’m suddenly picking up the nullification and castration market.

However, Beloved Visitor numbers are pleasing Her Majesty, as for no reason we can discern (you don’t always laugh at the bits we find hysterical), people are visiting – between 5-30 a day. We do better when we procrastinate on the book and play on Twitter, or if we can spare time to do blog posts and remember to promote them.

Mind you, many of Robert Scoble’s Beloved Visitors (or the Bloggess’s) who do comment are trying to promote their own websites, and it’s interesting watching all the schmoozing going on. But i’m left thinking, well, good thing this Scoble bloke can run a website, or he’d be screwed, cos in the real world, he’s a bigger blonde than i am. (If that hair’s natural, i think he is, literally.)

Businessweek.com pic of Robert Scoble (copyright Thomas Hawk)

Businessweek.com pic of Robert Scoble (copyright Thomas Hawk)

Mr Scoble is an authority – evidently, *consults oracles again, using “robert scoble, authority, social media”* AND he was someone famous before last year. I had forgotten that last year even existed!

Now, ‘Technical Evangelist’ sounds like something made up, right? But no, they paid him, and all because he invented computers, the web, technical evangelism, worked for  Microsoft and dared to criticise them, and was head wrangler on the 9-MSN website.

But he didn’t know spam was boring shite something you’re better off without? Well, there you go. Explains a lot about the 9-MSN website, and about Microsoft.

I’ve blogged before about most people who are held up as authorities, or say they understand social media – don’t mean to include the Scobelizer in that, btw, he deserves credit for shanking Microsoft from within, for learning about his field (Twitter really is a better experience if you manage your followers), and for being like normal people, in putting off cleaning out his Twitter Followers.

I  respect procrastination, that’s a sign you’re not Tony Robbins , or someone suckered by the ‘everyone, get rich!’ bollocks of the multi-level marketers, with the sub-text of ‘if you’re not rich, it’s your fault’. (Subtext from me: do not punch the fucking air again, or i will kill you)

You may even deserve kudos for just getting out of bed in the morning. (The Scobelizer procrastinated so long, he had to get someone to write a program to delete that many. *suitably awed*)

Hopefully, he’s learned size isn’t everything. Size isn’t even that important – as any woman will tell you, it’s how you use what you’re blessed with that matters.

Men nearly always translate this into keeping their Followers up for hours.

Women usually mean oral sex, kissing, and good touching.
Nothing to do with Twitter at all.

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

Feel i should mention, the above is mostly complete bullshit,
and meant as humour. Or even humor.

Follow Robert (Scobelizer) Scoble on Twitter
Follow @TheBloggess on Twitter
Follow @WilliamShatner on Twitter

Follow the war against William Shatner by TheBloggess’s followers,
(even crazier than she is, and yes, i’m proud to be one),
after he blocked her on Twitter, on her blog link at the very top of the page
or at the Twitter trend #UnblockTheBloggess

His side of it? He has a side? I think he just thought she was nuts.

[note: eventually, he unblocked her and the army could go home, or at least stop tweeting]

********************
Follow me on Twitter @stinginthetail

The rules are simple.
Laugh at my jokes, or die.

I’m actually very nice, seriously – my tweets are unlocked, you’ll see most of them are happy inoffensive poems about dwarves and fairies having race wars.

But don’t mention marketing opportunities or ways to whiten my Followers’ teeth, because i will block you before you can say “Make $$$ – ask me how!”

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Take it like a man, son…

Rosellas (a small local parrot) look like God (or the lumpen-angel in charge of small birds for Australasia) thought budgies weren’t bright enough, so daubed their heads and chest with red, then decided the rest of the spectrum of their feathers had to be ramped up – bring on the electric yellow and acid green, oh yeah, baby!

How many shades of blue can i use? And let’s put a white spot near their eyes, to make them really stand out. I’ve got some red left over, it can go under the tail. Oh yes!

The black speckles on their backs, let’s make them out of a kind of black velour, that makes them look like they’re part-velvet painting. What was God on when he invented the Eastern Rosella? Whatever it was, it made something pretty.

Eastern Rosella  - Wikipedia Commons Image

Eastern Rosella - Wikipedia Commons Image

The reference is a joke – God, contrary to the edicts of the morally-corrupt minority, has a sense of humour, and i’m sure will not mind – seriously, please don’t pray for me any more, or i’ll have used up my prayers when i really need one.

Talking to God does not imply the owner of this blog completely believes in God, Satan, Heaven, Hell, etc etc, blah blah…. except in States where such a lottery is illegal. It’s just not as funny if i say “What was evolution thinking about?”

Especially because some ornithologist  – who happens to be passing this blog post, probably accidentally, looking for rosellas. The weird ornithologist says they evolved like that mostly for sexual reasons. And we’re back there again.

It’s mating season outside the window.  I feel like a parrot pervert, watching parrots make out. They’re so cute, and loving. And colourful. Rosellas are a minority, most of them are lorikeets, which are like a rainbow exploded.

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3360/3224868366_c8dfac3e09_o.jpg

from OzJulian at Flickr

Down on the lake’s beach, a kind of Australian robin, with a speckled red breast, skim around insect-catching over the shallows . If you get close, like robins in the northern hemisphere, they come to see what you’re up to, hovering like honeyeaters at head-height.

Serene and so pretty, and the wankers who decided to run round the lakes several times on their hovercraft over the weekend were not welcome. I bet they think they’re so freaking green.

They were leaving a decent bow wave, only a metre or two from the shore, (that’s shore erosion right there), and were charging through shallows, in an area that’s a haven for birds and fish, usually never entered by boats (unless they run aground, in which case it’s great to watch.

We’re not being mean, just watching – anyone in serious trouble, we’d help, but the deepest part in front is only waist deep, they can walk to shore. It’s also full of diving birds, there for the fish that get trapped in the pools as the tide goes out.

Apparently hovercraft are driven only by complete wankers don’t have to obey normal regs, like keeping to the watercraft channels or speed limits, and they have petrol engines making enough noise to wake the freaking dead.

Though Mr Whatsit only grunted, because he had his earplugs in, it being the weekend, and round here they like to celebrate the weekend with Powertool Party Saturday, which nearly always ends up going into Mower Mardi Gras Sunday.

Once again, the longing for a decent sniper rifle overwhelms me. Put Kalashnikov in as a search word at the top of the page, and you’ll see how many times i was also longing for just a weapon, damn it! I curse Australia’s nambypamby gun laws, that mean i can’t just shoot people going past because they annoy me.

They wouldn’t do this to me in Texas! The Queen of Darkness would be allowed her Kalashnikov in a choice of colours. Of course, in the USA you need weapons to protect yourself from everyone else who also has weapons. I don’t actually want to be where everyone else has weapons,  I’m just looking for a clean kill, and am too lazy to learn to use a bow.

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

Anyway, aside from that, this is my first ever “Poor Bastard of the Week Award.”  Logan Campbell, a New Zealand martial artist, who’s an Olympian in Taekwondo, has turned to prostitution to support his career, saying he’s tired of his parents supporting him – it cost them over 100k to send him to the last Olympics.

He competed in Beijing, did very well, (lost against the guy who won bronze, and was in top 16) and is preparing for London in 2011. He’s started a gentlemen’s escort service – legal in NZ – and you’d think well, that’s enough, isn’t it? Nobody goes into prostitution without thinking about it hard. But no.

“Taekwondo New Zealand (TNZ) was unenthusiastic about the move, saying it would be taken into account when considering him for international selection.

“Selection takes into account not just performance but also the athlete’s ability to serve as an example to the youth of the country,” TNZ funding manager John Scholfield told the newspaper.” Quote from Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

Read it and weep. There he is, trying to be a man, starting a legal business and he’s now being judged as not fit to be around children. They say ‘an example’ but we all know what Mr Scholfield means. It’s well-known that all sex workers are dangerous paedophiles, usually armed with axes  and bags of sweets, so this is a good thing.

(I couldn’t find a pic of a prostitute with an axe, but i looked for one.)

Wait, the voices outside-my-head say that this is not true! Apparently, most sex workers do it just as a freaking job! Phew! They aren’t actually sexually abusive to children! OMG.

Someone should tell Taekwondo New Zealand – who were happy to hang this guy out to dry and let him find his own funding – that not relying on his parents to pay for his life choices is actually a fine example for young people.

I’m not sure who’s in control of this post – it’s not me, i’m too drugged and overloaded with hormones to know which way is up. I’ve had two periods in just under three weeks. I thought i was both stressed and sick, (getting over the never-ending gastric flu and waiting until we can move house), but now i realise i’ve been also struggling under a hormone overload.

Lovely. And you wonder why i want a gun? Pfft. Of course it would be safe. I’m very safety-conscious. Besides, i wouldn’t be shooting at anyone, just suggesting targets, Mr Whatsit’s already a crack shot, makes sense to use him. Maybe we won’t have to kill them. If we wing a few, the others will try harder.

In the absence of guns, i’ll have to blow a giant raspberry across the Tasman to NZ, to John Scholfield and the rest of the nice people at Taekwondo New Zealand. I was going to make poor Logan Campbell some kind of prize, but fuck it, he’s making more than i am – 150k savings a year? Nice one, son. Even if it is only NZ dollars.

So, he’s making a good living, but he’s probably destroyed his chance of selection on the team, despite being able to be fitter, more prepared, less stressed, and more able to capitalise on his Olympic experience in Beijing. And they won’t pick him because he’s a man-whore. So, everyone together,  “You poor bastard!”

Interesting thought: a woman in same boat would also be denied a place on a team unless from somewhere very enlightened like maybe Denmark. It’s  not just New Zealand which gives mixed messages to its citizens. Legal but frowned upon.

Glad i don’t have kids to explain the hypocrisy to, because as an adult, all i can think of is well, don’t ever think that if you work in the sex industry you’re going to be able to tell most people what you do, and not be judged as less for it.

It’s not fair, or right, but it’s sure how it is.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


oh, isn’t that typical?

Here we are, swine flu apocalypse, me wondering if hiding under my bed is the sensible option, and the Rapturists saying this is teh End of Dayz. Or maybe  it was the Lolcats who said it. (There’s a Lolspeak Bible.) Lots of people are going to be wiped out, just a few tattered survivors living in caves, being bothered by the Antichrist.

Of course – Armageddon is happening just as a nice thing happened. Well, two nice things, so i’m pretty much overwhelmed. Some of you may remember me pinning your ears back, over what i thought of plagiarists, after someone nicked a blog post. I was quite annoyed.

However *drumroll* Google has taken down the stolen post *sounds of cheering* and another person’s post he stole – but not the whole blog *sigh* but it’s good news overall *polite applause*.

The other nice thing was that the Mumbrella website (all about Aussie media and marketing), that i mentioned in my last post, featured a quote and link to my blog on their page, under Opinion. Look! That’s me! In the purplish square. I was gobsmacked. And very, very pleased.

i got a mention!

i got a mention!

Spooky thing (non- apocalypse related): while i was working on the post, i got a notification of a new Follower on Twitter – and it turned out to be @Mumbrella.

I followed them back and then warned about the post referencing them, in case i’d accidentally been offensive. I’d rather they complained to me, you see. So i expected them to read it, but the link was a lovely surprise.

The world ending right after that – and just as Google did my bidding – is the pits. I can’t die now, ffs. Don’ t you understand? If Google follows my orders, I may actually be the Antichrist and the Queen of Darkness.This could be my big break!

I could spit! What’s the use of me being queen if you’re all dead? Or if i am? If there’s a God, he’s a freaking tease and this is why i decided to be the Queen of Darkness. Ahem. I nearly stamped my feet real-time then.

Mr Whatsit saw my mention (which sounds like a strange euphemism). I had to show him before the world ended. He came back later, reminded me that i’d been linked, and that i was nearly famous. I got a little glow. One day, maybe i’ll be blasé over mentions, but for now i’m happy-dancing.

When the remnant survivors of the apocalypse come out of their caves, (no, i hadn’t forgotten they were in there), maybe they’ll find some of my Tweets and a blog post, with links to bits of my work that sound like they’d be good – and i’ll be like one of those Greek writers we know about because other people say they’re cool.

Of course, if i make it to the caves, i might be able to start again. I can cook and do weird sexual things, which may ensure my survival. Oh – if you’re really worried about the Rapture, the friendly folk at Post-Rapture Post will help out. They promise to deliver your smug, nagging letters to your friends and relatives who haven’t been sucked up in God’s Giant Vacuum Cleaner with the Faulty Suction (for an explanation of the Rapture, read my post Sex Sells).

I’m betting I’ll be left behind, what with my predilections for heresy and sex. We will be forsaken by Ceiling Cat, dealing with boils – or it may have been furballs – and the Antichrist, which may be me. *sweet smile* I figure it’s no use denying it, because the Antichrist would deny it.

There’s also a new Messiah. Like the old one didn’t cause enough trouble. Be nice to each other, he said – lol – alien concept or what? No wonder they nailed him to a tree. Today, Jesus would be on Twitter, saying “Follow me, i am the Way” and people would be going “i bet you’re a bot”. I’ll probably be sarcastic, and tease him with “find God, ask  me how!” or “make $$$ out of suckers who believe they are the cheese makers”.

He won’t get the Monty Python’s Life of Brian reference, of course – we’ll need to sit him down, make him watch that, and all the awful movies like Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ. And the one where John Wayne is a centurion – The Robe? And Jesus Christ Superstar.

He’ll be so creeped out, he’ll forget about the Apocalypse – and this will be my opportunity to move into the power void. Ha! Now would be a good time to follow me on Twitter – there will be those who got in Before Apocalypse, and those who came After. You know which ones will get the Hello Kitty Kalashnikovs.

On Twitter, people seem to be fluctuating between genuine hysteria and hysterical laughter over the swine flu apocalypse – probably normal, actually. Here’s a page with a list of symptoms so you can tell the difference between the flu and a cold. I’m getting a bit annoyed over the people with head colds saying they’re probably going to die – hence the link.

I’m doubly annoyed, as i had a shot for flu, but it’s the wrong freaking kind. Now i’m just a person who had a dead arm for four days from the shot, got woken up by the pain every time i rolled over in the night, (my immune system is overactive), was still bruised two weeks later (i’m delicate, ok?), and now, I might die anyway. So don’t complain to me about your freaking head cold. Ahem.

The last post was a reasonably coherent one, now here i am, wittering on about vacuum cleaners in the sky and making my mark before the world ends. Point is, (somewhere in the wittering, there is a point) i’m used to getting my hopes up – i’ve been in lots of bands, and other group endeavours from businesses to drama groups.

My happiness is not dependent on worldly success. Which is lucky, or i’d be completely freaking miserable, all the time. From promising beginnings, i’ve made it as far as “epic fail” – but things could be heaps worse – i found happiness along the way.

Sometime in amongst the strange things, i found Zen, and though i have my bad days, i am basically content. I was like this before i met Mr Whatsit – my state of mind is not dependent on others, on love, health, wealth, or good things happening in an unending stream – life isn’t like that. However, I do enjoy the good stuff.

I’m loving my victory over the plagiarist via Google, and my mention.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


you’ll have to speak up, i’m not home

Nothing’s funny. Hmm…

The next day, after 12 hours sleep…

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

Bunny sad

Aw - it was a stunt rabbit. Honest.

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

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

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

Ahem.

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

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

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

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

the joys of PMS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com