Category Archives: stuff

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.


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

Casually racist, homophobic.

The instant you preface ANY comment with,

“I’m not racist but…(insert derogatory statement about a group with a different skin colour or ethnicity” and then follow it up with “some of my best friends are…(Black, Indian, Mexican, Indigenous etc etc)” so you can’t possibly be racist or bigoted.


You’re probably not a full blown frothing at the mouth KKK card carrying racist or bigot, what you are is casually racist and that is even worse than being an openly racist/bigoted individual, because you can spot the dyed in the wool racists, they are not backward in coming forward with their opinions.

It’s the casual racism that’s the hardest to avoid, the institutionalized racism, the different attitudes when a POC or someone from a Minority goes shopping, or applies for a job, or tries to find a house to rent, the subtle and not so subtle roadblocks that exist, that most people probably don’t realise that they pay into.

The empty seat on the bus next to a dark skinned man, surrounded by white people all standing, because no one will sit next to him, how can that not be casual racism, no matter what spin you put on it, yet I’m sure if you asked these people they would be horrified to be called racist, because it seems that calling someone on their racist/bigoted behaviour is worse than the racism/bigotry itself.

The same applies to “I’m not homophobic but…” statements, followed by the assertion that some of your best friends/sister/mother/aunt etc are gay, so you can’t possibly be homophobic.

Wrong again, casually racist, casually homophobic, and all probably without you even thinking twice about it or the impact it has on people.

Hunter S. Thomcat is a traitor. An adorable, fluffy traitor.

The look on Rollys’ face is priceless

The Bloggess

Rolly is the kind of cat who will sometimes let you pet her but then will unexpectedly bite you in the eye because it’s Wednesday, and if you try to pick her up SHE WILL FUCKING DESTROY YOU.  Hunter S. Thomcat takes a slightly different approach…

HST is a bit of a traitor

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