The one in which i feel like a heel, whilst being angry, upset and miserable.

On Monday Paul went and adopted a 10 month old kitten, which we have named Opal, she’s very cute and if she belonged to anyone else I’d think she was a gorgeous pudding of a kitten. But, there’s always a but… I know why he did it, I understand his reasons, he knows I’m lonely and miserable and cry myself to sleep at night, every single night since Callista went away from me. But he didn’t ask me if I was ready for another cat on that day, the answer would have been a big loud NO.

I’m not, I’m no where near ready for another cat and I find myself not wanting to have anything to do with her, not that she seems to care for my company, she’s glommed onto Paul, but that’s neither here nor there. I wasn’t asked if I wanted another cat, she was presented as a done deal. There of course is no way I’m sending her back to the cat home, she’s already had a topsy turvy kitten hood, it’s not her fault Paul was absolutely tone deaf and insensitive to how I was feeling, I told him after Callista died that it would take me ages to be ready for another cat, but that when I was Callista would point one in the right direction at me.

He knew this and he just assumed he knew better.

And perhaps what is even worse is that he took MY choice of MY next kitty away from me. We can’t have more than three cats, Opal is cute, but she’s a tabby, not a grey tabby, but still a tabby. My next kitty was going to be a little soot sprite maybe, or a handsome all over grey gentleman like Sterling, with an interesting moustache, or perhaps a big white snowball. It was not going to be any flavour of tabby, mainly because I catch glimpses of Opal out the corner of my eye and I see tabby ear, or tabby tail and my heart soars and then breaks in two all over again. Multiple times a day. I can’t do that to myself.

So I’m angry and still lonely, but I feel guilty because I know Paul didn’t mean to hurt me this badly, but I can’t help myself. I want Callista back and if can’t have her, I’d really rather not have a replacement cat at all until I wanted one, and that’s been taken from me.


Jingle jangle bitcoin

Some years ago when I was still doing counselling, I had a number of clients who were shall we say very financially challenged. Being poor is a bitch, being poor and needing some mental health help is a double bitch. I had some students, some very underpaid apprentices, some people who probably could have paid full price, but were so overwhelmed that they couldn’t have organised a piss up in a brewery, so instead of money from a lot of them I got other things, the ones who were artistically inclined paid with gorgeous artwork, crafty ones made me little toys.

It worked out quite well for the most part, I was doing what I loved to do, I was staying in the draconian government guidelines of how much extra money I earned, and I was helping people. One of the people I helped at that time didn’t have real money to pay me, but he did have something he called Bitcoins, at that time I was only vaguely aware of what crypto-currency was, so I just shrugged my shoulders and said “yeah, why not”

He paid me around $60 worth of bitcoins for a two hour session, I was pretty damn sure I wasn’t going to go through all the palaver of doing whatever it was you had to do to exchange them for real money, so I put them in the folder in the files containing all my notes, transcripts, receipts and everything else that I am supposed to keep for ten years per the recommendation of the ACA.

Or so I thought.

With all the news surrounding bitcoins and finding out just HOW much my $60 would be worth, I got Paul to haul out my laptop, dig through the boxes and find the external harddrive that I keep all my old shit on.

I spent about 10 hours going through every single file on that HD, which was no mean feat. I had frikking nested rar files locked in zip files. I un-rared and unzipped literally thousands of files. I found things I’d carried over from my first Windows machine in 1996, text files, ASCII files for my BBS. A zipped copy of Spot, which I’m still side eyeing myself for. Why keep a copy of an Amiga program on your Win95 computer, especially when you’d sold your beloved Amiga because you HAD to have a Windows machine for Uni.

I found all my old Poser files, all my textures, models and poses. All totally useless now. I found so many photos of people I’d forgotten who were very important to me, back then. I found photos of people who are still very important to me, and are still in my life. I found some photos of my Mum that made me cry, some of my Nan, also cried. My darling daughters, so very young and cute and also naked, so we won’t be posting those as a means to embarrass them, like a good Mum should.

I found every single story I have ever written, the bad erotica, the good erotica and the bloody amazing erotica. All the funny stuff that was of its time, all the LTUAE stories, all the AVTECH stories. Even some from the dim distant days of AFD on DalNet on IRC. So much stuff it was very overwhelming.

But no bitcoin wallet.

I concluded that at some point I just must have deleted it because I thought it was worthless.

For all I know it’s still in there, because I may have missed something, there were so many nested zip and rar files, some locked files and quite honestly I felt very sad. I have lived most of my life online in some way, starting from 1982 with my TRS 80 and my acoustic coupler, getting online to BBS’ and with my C-64 onto Viatel. All the way up to now with my tablet and smartphone, and that’s all I have to show for it, aside from my two amazing children, and even they came about from being online, an external harddrive filled with memories and shit.

I’m not sure I want to keep on looking.

Oh no you just didn’t!

Because I have shocking insomnia which is a wonderful side effect, one of many, of all the medication I am on, I spend a lot of time awake, trapped in my bed, one of the redeeming features of this existence is Netflix, I have caught up on so much good quality stuff, stuff I missed first time around.


The other thing I do at night is play games on my tablet, I have quite a number I play, hidden object games, puzzles, RPGs, match threes and a couple of slot games. I quite like the slot games, they’re pretty and flashy and I don’t have to think much about what I am doing. I don’t ever buy any chips, and just rely on all the bonus/extra ways to get chips when I’m low, which is hardly ever, because slot machines love me, I win enormous jackpots all the time, which makes me happy, because when I’m playing a slot with a million dollar lowest roll, my heart still goes in my mouth, even if it’s not real money there is still that frisson.


But enough of that, yada yada I play online slots, one of the slots I play has recently had a major overhaul, it’s gone all very hi tech and extra flash, it has clubs and competitions​ and other things to get you more involved, one of the new things they are meant to be bringing in is the ability to privately chat to other players, at the moment there is just two chat modes, whole table and club chat. Club chat is fine if you want to line up people to play in one of the competitions, whole table chat is mostly people just whinging about never winning, or if you’re playing a scatter slot, saying thanks for the shared wins.


It’s not private, it never has been, so there I was in the wee sma’s of the night, in a room with one other person, both of us minding our own business, playing our game, being polite and saying thanks for the infrequent shared wins ( it was being a 🐖 that night). When in bounced this couple, they’d obviously agreed to meet up to play, because he/she/they greeted each other affectionately and exchanged small talk, all fine, no biggy, I tend to ignore the message lines unless I’m saying thanks for a shared wins.

Next time I look at the text space she’s complaining that she’s​ had a real bad run of luck and is just about out of chips, the guy she’s playing with responds kinda like “I got plenty of chips, how desperate are ya” they go back and forth, I look at my own stuff ignoring them, then I get a pretty good win, with a good share and my original person says thanks, and I look up at the screen just in time to see Ms REALLY desperate go to town on Mr I got plenty of chips.

I’m not a prude, I’ve done things that I’m pretty damned glad my kids have never found out about, because NO ONE wants to have THAT conversation, do they daughters!  As far as rp sex went it was pretty average, not very descriptive and you would have to have been pretty horny.


But yes anyway my original partner just went !!! and left, I just typed “thanks for ruining my game” and left, then I reported both their gamer IDs because I’m petty like that, and because, dude, dudette, I don’t frickin care how horny you are, time and place dudes, TIME and PLACE!



Tact and compassion are so words in the dictionary, look them up.

I recently posted a pic of M’lady Callista, Callista is the eldest of my three elderly (in cat years) felines of my heart. An acquaintance of an acquaintance posited a comment on the picture of my old cranky lady which I shall quote verbatim. 

“Your cat looks very old and very scruffy, I hadn’t seen a picture of her in a while, I assumed she had died. Then I realised that if she’d died everyone would have certainly known. You’re not exactly known as sane when it comes to that cat. Perhaps it’s time to think about who you are really keeping her alive for, your benefit or hers.

Once I had metaphorically picked myself up off the floor and closed my jaw which developed this habit of dropping open in sheer anger every time I so much as thought of the nasty, spiteful little post, I managed to pull myself together enough to post what I thought was a quite reasonable and reasoned reply. According to my friends in that place I failed dismally.

Now I know how Tom Cox felt each time he posted pictures of his beloved The Bear who was 21, and right up until the very last month was a happy, loved and supremely spoiled beastie. Without fail and usually from a poster in another part of the world (Tom is from the UK) Tom would be greeted with comments about how sad it must be that The Bear would be dying soon and was Tom ready for the sorrow and pain. 

Believe you me, every owner of a kitty of advanced years is acutely aware that this day could be the one where it all starts to spiral out of control, that this could be the day you say goodbye. If love could have kept any cat alive it would have been The Bear and his army of lovers.

But that is not how any of this works, and I do not believe that anyone who loves their furry ones would deliberately prolong the suffering of their beloved, simply to save themselves grief.

I reach out in the middle of the night to check if Callista is still breathing, I have been known to poke her quite vigorously when she has those moments of very quiet stillness, I know very well that our time together is now short, and the mere thought of that rends my heart into a million little pieces, but it would never stop me from doing what is right, what she deserves.

Callista stole my heart over 18 years ago, with her teeny pointed face and ridiculously silly ears that she never really grew into, when and if the time comes that I have to make that decision, I will, but I hope Callista will do me the honour of taking her last breath in my arms, held tightly by her person, the person who owes her so much and loves her more than words could ever say.

It’s all so very very subjective 

I was listening to my music this morning whilst playing my latest addiction, a nifty time consuming game called Egg, Inc, a cross between time management, farming (with all different sorts of eggs) and resources allocation. It is like nothing I’ve ever played before and it’s been a great surprise finding out how much fun it is.
Well anyway as I said I was playing my game and listening to music when on came a song, this song –

Marshalls Portable Music Machine – Robin Jolley
According to Glenn A.Baker this is the worst Australian song of all time, oh Glenn, Glenn I beg to differ most stridently, for your delectation at least THREE songs that are so demonstrably worse than poor old Robin.

This is arguably THE worst song to ever come from Australia, I give you – 

Shudduppa Your Face – Joe Dolce
I am forever apologising to my UK friends for Australia inflicting that one on them.

However Joe is not alone in the horrors he perpetuated, I give you – 

Baked Beans – Mother Goose
To be fair Mother Goose originated in New Zealand, but like most bands had to come to Australia to make a decent living, however unlike the very talented bands that came across the ditch and struck it big, like Split Enz, Mi-Sex, Dragon etc, Mother Goose lacked one thing, proper talent, unless you’re Weird Al, humourous novelty songs can only take you so far.

And then we have these two songs –

It’s not the way that you do it – Pussyfoot
She was a very very scary woman, not surprising though she was a big hit with both teenage boys and men of a certain age.


I can’t stop myself from loving you – William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare was a toss up between that one, and his other bile inducing god awful song My Little Angel.

And that’s just off the top of my head, I’m sure if I thought about it some more, I could probably find 100 songs more worthy of the worst song to ever come from Australia, so leave poor old Robin alone.

Catching up

I rarely use my laptop these days, mainly because I have great difficulty in seeing the screen and the keyboard unless it’s inches from my face, I only got new glasses last year and already they are not strong enough, my opthalmologist told me back when I was 13 that my eyesight would start to get really bad in my 40s, well it held off until my 50s, I was kinda hoping he was wrong, but every subsequent eye exam has said the same thing. 
Anyway, so I can’t use my laptop, means I have to use my tablet, I have a funky new one and so I have just installed every single app known to womankind, including the one for WordPress, and I feel like writing again, so you’ll see more from me on here, cos you know you can never have too many platforms.
     xTeddyx 😘

meaningfulness: or why i like fancy soda

i have been a bit… i’ve been struggling to know where to start with lately, not even remembering where i left off. it was my birthday. i broke out of hospital when i was anaemic because…

Source: meaningfulness: or why i like fancy soda