Ambi Pur, Brendon Fraiser, laxatives, and toilet humiliation

Annoy Verb Irritate (someone); make (someone) a little angry: "your cheerfulness annoyed me"; "rock music loud enough to annoy".Harm or attack repeatedly.


This does not fully describe the way I am feeling right now. I think the only appropriate thing to do is to retreat into my mind and pretend that the anger I am feeling is simply just a bad smell that will be easily extinguished with the new and improved formula of lavender Ambi Pur. Why am I so angry, you ask? Well, as a content writer, I spin out a lot of crap. However, some of it is actually quite good. This situation is not good. I have just found out that contractor I have been working with for the past seven months has been stealing my work and passing it off as their own. I randomly decided to check out their profile and found that they had completed a lot of jobs that they had hired me to complete. So, basically, I had been doing their work for them. Now, I do a lot of ghost writing jobs, but there is a mutual understanding between contractor and employee. I understand that all rights go to the employee after the job has been complete. I have written a lot of ebooks, articles, speeches....I have even written essays for fellow university students. But the one thing in common they all have is the mutual understanding. I know that they are using my work as their own, and I have accepted that. However, in this situation, the contractor merely accepts jobs they have no intention of completing and then pawns them off to me, the little lapdog eager to make that extra $20. Well, I will not be that lap dog any more. I actually prefer cats.They look better hung upside down on the shower railing of contractors houses.
Joking!
But maybe not. I am against animal cruelty. I'd make sure it was already dead.
I wanted to talk about laxatives (what I will be sending to that mo fo contractor in their next meat pie). We all know what laxatives are - we've thought about them. Who should I target next? Which woman usually wears white pants? What type of cupcakes should I bake them into? It's a serious matter! But what are laxatives? For those who have been living underground, like Brendon Fraiser in Blast from the Past, laxatives are a mild cathartic that moves the bowels without any pain or violent action - ie, diarrhoea Laxatives can be taken orally or as a suppository (fun fact for the day, in high school a few of my friends and I decided to form a band. We called ourselves psychedelic suppository. We played once in my garage and gave up.) Anyway, I may or may not have decided to try laxatives, or I may know a farmer in Tasmania who requires them, so I thought I'd do a little research on them. Laxatives are used for bowel preparation, chronic constipation, and chronic immobility. People use them to lose weight, forgetting that all laxatives do is speed up the transit of faeces through the large intestine, making them poo more. The thing is, you need to eat to lose weight. And not 7/11 Krispy Kremes - but to be honest, those doughnuts are rubbery circular tires that are barely passable as food. Have you ever tried one of those from 7/11? They are disgusting. I doubt Apu would even sell them. The main thing is that it didn't seem to work. I still haven't pooped in two days. I don't actually go to the bathroom that often to be honest, probably because of my android gene, but I did expect something more....I don't know...eventful. Not eventful like this:



But probably something more like this:





By the way, who the fuck smiles like that on the toilet? You only go to the bathroom with the door open when there's no one home or when you are taking a shit at your neighbours house when they're not home with no intention of flushing. And you've been saving it up all week. And you're dressed as a Nazi. It's unnatural. Just like her hair colour. I don't know what the world is coming to these days when it's cool to take photos of people on the toilet. It totally screws up the rest of us, as we have to find more clever ways to humiliate people. Everyone knows that the best way to humiliate people is to highlight their weaknesses, but how can you do that once they've taken a shit in front of the whole entire world? Humiliation works best in public, but for gods sake, even the Oods in the Ood Sphere and the Horsehead Nebula can see you taking a shit. Take photos of your naked elderly neighbour instead. Photos on you on the toilet are so humiliating that every alien race in space and time will be making fun of you in the past, present, and future. Just don't do it.
The photo of the day is.....*da da da daaaa*


I like to move it move it!
Claire

Trash Gordon, children's TV, Silence of the Lambs, and body parts.

Trash Gordon - Sesame Streets equivalent to Flash Gordon - is a man in a blue suit and red cape. He runs around dancing and saving Sesame Street from the accumulation of rubbish. In some ways, he's even more exciting than Flash Gordon himself. For those unfamiliar with ol' Trashy, Trash Gordon is this guy:



Not to be confused with this guy:



Trash Gordon appears in the science fiction adventure book of the same name which Oscar the Grouch reads to Slimy to help him get to sleep. The funny thing is that Trash Gordon is much more exciting than Flash Gordon. At least he didn't end up taking drugs with a talking teddy bear. No, Trash has taken a slightly different park. He'd prefer to appear on a children's show forever marred by the slippery fingers of Kevin Clash. Who's to blame? Certainly not Clash. He only had his had up a puppets ass for more than 20 years. That's all. But the weird thing is that I'd still prefer to watch Sesame Street over Flash Gordon with my daughter any day. It's actually somewhat entertaining.

Children's television is seriously going down the drain. Banana's in Pyjamas is now animated. There's three Bob the Builder shows. Play School does't have the Rocket Clock, The Wot Wots contributes to underdeveloped speech in young children, Yo Gabba Gabba is just plain scary, and Zigby tells children that unicorns exist. I know children's imaginations are vast caverns of untarnished wonder, but Zigby was adamant that unicorns existed. I am just lucky that my daughter can't talk so I don't have to break her little heart when I tell her that unicorns don't exist.

In a perverse way, I don't want my daughter's first word to be something like mum, dad, banana, teddy, or some other childish word. I want it to be so momentous, and so unpredictable, so when she's older I can tease her about it. Something like cadaver, or retina, or Hello Clarice. Imagine if she had a little friend at pre school named Clarice? Hello Clarice, my name is Isobelle! Oh, the horror of her friends parents! It would be awesome. Although social services might be called....I heard that babies pick up languages really easily, but I think I'm at an age that I wouldn't be able to learn a new one. So I'm a little apprehensive about teaching my daughter how to curse at me in another language. She'd grow up, swear at me in Italian, and then slip away with a sly smile. Then I'd remind her that Elmo is a paedophile and ruin her childhood.

At the moment I am working on my novel, although I am finding it hard to think of creative ways for people's bodies to be found. The killer is quite gruesome and disgusting, and for one of the victims he cut out her eyes and put them in her vagina. I'm not sure what that was supposed to symbolise, but I'm at a loss as to how to move forward. I mean, what beats that? She became a gynaecologist, but oh wait - she's dead. Sorry, can't open up that new practice. I was think of cutting off someone's digits (their fingers and toes) and sewing them into someone's body in various places. But the problem with this is that it's all well and good to just chop off someone's fingers, but I want it all to have some kind of meaning. Every killer has a reason for doing things the way they do. My killer targets blondes, so perhaps his mother was a blonde and broke his fingers? And maybe she was a prostitute? Who knows. I'll figure it out sooner or later.

The photo of the day is...

da da da da....



Jimmy Giggle!!

Claire

Georgie Parker, Lee Lin Chin, Grand Designs, and skylights.

I'm writing this with one arm around my daughter, and the other on the keyboard. Play School is on T.V, and even though Isobelle has fallen asleep, I can't be bothered to change the channel. Georgie Parker is dancing around singing like a banshee. I wonder what kind of qualifications one must need to be on Play School? Wanted: moderately attractive woman. Must shop at Target. I also need to pee. What is it about needing to pee at the most inappropriate times? On a bus? In the shower with your partner? At your great-great-grandmothers funeral? Imagine if you went out of your way to pee in the most inappropriate of places, like in a movie theatre, and suggested that urine added to the ambiance of the theatre. Forget 3D, the ambience is what everyone pays for.

At the moment I am reading three different books. A Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martin, The Great and Secret Show by Clive Barker, and The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice. So my imagination is swamped by incest, springs that impregnate teenagers, and the humiliation and degradation of women. I think they have some kind of common link, don't you think? I read such a wide variety of books. When I was thirteen I read a book about lesbians, and ever since my imagination has warped so much that books about sadism just isn't enough for me any more. It's gotta have it all, just like Ash and his Pokemon. I like so many different genres of books. From fantasy to non-fiction, from children's books to romance I read books for the characters. I don't care if books have a brilliant storyline; if they don't have great characters, then I'm just not interested. That's kind of like those really attractive families you see walking around. They look like they play tennis on a regular basis, own a yacht, a golden retriever, have a billiard room, and never eat grilled cheese for dinner, but they have no character. Their jokes are as dry as a nun's vagina. No, I like books with substance and humour, yet are dark and horrible. Kind of like dungeons with hideously deformed gargoyle looking men chained to the wall who tell the best jokes. Yes, that's my cup of tea.

I've noticed 'The Mole' has returned to channel seven. I just hate it when these shows just keep coming back. It's like that one friend you just don't want to hang out with that keeps calling you. I can't believe that with all the fantastic new shows  HBO keeps pumping out that channel seven can't come up with something remotely original for that time slot. It's crazy. Even Eragon is more original than the shows they broadcast. Everything seems to focus around reality TV these days. I don't know why they just don't show home videos of people eating curly fries in their pyjamas all night. That would be more entertaining than watching stuck up bitches wine about their cooking. The way things are going, relaxation tapes by Lee Lin Chin are more exciting than the channel seven evening time slot.What a sad world it is when this:


Is more exciting than this:


I'm kind of disappointed that the apocalypse didn't occur last year. A world full of damnation and fiery pitchforks would have been so much better. At least we wouldn't have to pay for central heating.

At the moment I have begun a writing job that involves writing about skylights. At first I thought it would be boring, but then I remembered that I can just get all of my ideas from Grand Designs. And robbers. I should just stroll on down to the police station and interview people about how easy it is to access peoples homes via their skylights. Maybe I could ask Kevin McCloud. I bet he'd be an expert at skylight breaking and entering.

The photo of the day is (sadly, not Lee Lin Chin)......



It's gonna happen!!!

Claire

Chocolate ice cream, vodka, and sex.

I've never written a blog before, nor have I managed to keep a diary. I always thought blogs, or diary's, were for people who lived interesting, exciting, or depressing lives. I am not an interesting person, and my country is not occupied by Nazi's. I do not go to wild and exotic dinner parties, nor have I ever been on the cover of Vogue. But I've been skiing before, and I've ridden a miniature pony. That has to count for something, doesn't it?

Funnily enough, I am a writer. I ghostwrite novels, write articles, edit novels, write ebooks, and I've got a stack of unfinished, unpublished books written in old exercise books. I have published two novels; one fiction, one poetry. I think I enjoy creating people, and personalities, and lives. I like to create worlds where life is topsy-turvy. I like to create characters who have problems, and often don't ever sort them out. Many of my characters die in depressing or extreme ways. I originally killed a baby in Ophelia, but I had to change the storyline once I had my own child. The thought was suddenly heart-breaking. Maybe I'm going soft. I don't know why I like to write about death so much, since it's not nearly as exciting as life.

I think there are certain types of people who become writers. Most of them are plain, and not at all exciting, like me. But their minds are more exciting than any sky jump or mountain climb. They think about complex things. They are philosophers. But I guess the difference between us and everybody else is that what we think about only exists in our minds, or on paper. It never becomes a reality.

I started writing as a young child. I loved to write books to read to my younger sister. I would even add illustrations, a title page, and a blurb on the back. I still have all of the books I wrote. One day, I hope to turn them into published children's books. They certainly entertained everyone I read them to. I liked writing about adventures that I knew I would never have, and only existed in my mind. I've always wanted to go on adventures, yet I spend so much time inside my house, writing, that I just never get around to them. Then again, my life has changed dramatically since I was a child, as does everyone's lives. My life has changed dramatically since I was a teenager. I am studying business - something I never thought I would ever do - and I like it. I am engaged, and have a wonderful fiancé. And I am a mother. A mother. My daughter is at the age where she just starting to crawl, and watching her roll around on the ground, balancing on her hands and knees, is pure joy. It is better than chocolate ice cream, vodka, and even sex. Unless, the sex contains chocolate ice cream and vodka. Kidding! I have endured sleepless nights, and now have a patchwork of vomit stains splayed across my carpet, but none of that matters. (I'm joking, the carpet is disgusting!) But in the end, I am able to watch this little person that I created. My daughter grew in my womb. She's from me. I gave her life, and that fact is so much more rewarding that giving my characters life. Because she is really and doesn't just exist inside my head. Then again, as Dumbledore says, of course it is happening inside your head, by why on earth should that mean it's not real?

Embrace the characters inside your head, for in time, they will become your best friends. I know all of my characters like I know Black Foxes - inside and out. They are me and I are them.

Time to head back to my super-duper-amazing new manuscript. Ha! Sarcasm really is the best thing ever invented.

Claire


P.S - The photo of the day is......*drum roll*

 

Stop messing around with Doctor Who, and release Season Three!