The Great Divide

Only now that I have 3 children do I appreciate how awful it is when families are separated. My own family (mom, dad & 3 brothers) buggered off to Australia when I was but a fledgling – 22 years old and left all alone. Abandoned, really. Tossed out like an old…. well, you get the point.  My beloved family went in search of a better life, a chance to realize their full potential, and a cinema room. Also, like most South Africans, they couldn’t resist the allure of free stuff. Free schooling, free medical, free crap on the side of the road. (In Australia people leave ‘stuff’ on their verges, on a help-yourself basis, when they are done with it.) I actually have friends who have decorated their entire house using this method – even securing a working MICROWAVE. Personally I think Australia stole this concept from South Africa… I mean, who hasn’t had someone going through their trash on rubbish day? 😉 But wait… I digress….

Their leaving hit me hard. This led me to procreate at an alarming rate in the hope that they would return, unable to endure having (SO MANY) grandchildren so far away. Needless to say, this shrewd plan backfired. They stayed put, and I now have exorbitant medical bills & school fees to pay. (because here in SA.. its not free – the irony is not lost on me)

My family are quite good about their ex-pat status and they don’t criticise or condemn people that remain here in SA, but I have seen many a family torn apart by this “Great Divide” debate. That is what this blog post is all about:

Following the election of Nelson Mandela in 1994 thousands of South Africans, particularly professionals, immigrated from South Africa to Australia.  It’s no wonder “Australia’s Got Talent.”  Like rats deserting a sinking ship, these “cowards” hurtled over the Indian Ocean to the Land of Opportunity.  More than a fair few came back, but we will get to that. It is important to note that only a tiny percentage of these immigrants were Afrikaans, the majority being of English descent.  This is because Afrikaaners have more staying power than Viagra.  It is probably also because Australia won’t have them.  The mass exodus had many people commenting that “Would the last one out please switch off the lights?”  But let’s get real, people, Eskom will no doubt do that for us.

Twenty years later, there are still those that are scrambling over themselves in their desire to make it to the land down under. Personally I am staying exactly where I am. At least for now, South Africa may be a lot of things but at least we survive the Mayan Armageddon (which, admittedly, is proving increasingly difficult to pin down to an exact date) – the movie says so.  

There is also an amazing value for life in this country.  People claim otherwise – that we have very little value for human life and that is why our murder rate is so high –but I disagree.  Every day in South Africa is a blessing.  Survival is a life skill.

Last December we had family visiting from the UK.  Excited to show them the wonders of South Africa we took them to a carol service at a nearby Park. I know, I know, anyone South African who tries to impress a Briton at a park needs their head read, but we had to at least try. Our park consisted of a relatively flat piece of completely overgrown ground, a swing set with only one working swing, and an overturned slide.  Kumba-freakin-ya!! The highlight of the evening was the raffle, for which each attendee was automatically entered on their arrival. *smirk* Where else in the world do you get something for nothing? (OTHER than Australia) Our smug arrogance was slightly tempered when the main prize turned out to be six months free security with Blue armed response services.      

The great divide between these two continents has led to a war waging that people become very heated about. Some South Africans living in Australia claim we are idiots for staying. Others applaud us. Who is to know who is right, this topic is the stuff family feuds are made of. In my African dream, nobody would move away and family would stay together, but alas, this is not to be. Instead we spend our time justifying our actions to leave, or our decisions to stay.

And what of those who have no choice? Financially, commercially and emotionally, certain families might long to seek their fortune elsewhere but are unable to do so. Can we not rub their noses in it?  I have met an Australian who lives in South Africa who would not go back for all the tea in China. Yes, only that one, unfortunately. God Bless you Pete.

 The bottom line is that it doesn’t matter where you choose to set down your roots. What matters is cherishing the moments that we have – the ones that take our breaths away (and yes, the natural beauty of this SA is something to behold). After all, home is where the heart is. 

*Note* I did once enquire about applications to enter Australia, confident I had it in the bag. I got this reply:


From Indie to Published

Two very exciting things happened today. Firstly, I had my hair done. It looks fantastic – all blonde and sleek and shiny. It’s awesome. Oh…. and I became a published author.

*insert shriek of excitement here!!!!*

I am so, so thrilled to finally share this news with you all.. it has been a while in the making and for fear of jinxing it, I had to keep mum until all the negotiations and logistics were ironed out.

The Legacy Series & I have been signed by TMP (Tracey McDonald Publishers) and will be re-launched in July 2014. I am now feeling the pressure of being a legit author, as I have a deadline to complete the final book in the series. (Yes, I said a deadline- how cool is that :))

It also means that The Legacy & The Legion (as well as book 3, when it launches) will be available in stores, so all those without Kindles can get their hands on it 🙂

This is a huge turning point in my career & it coincides with my selling out of my company, after 10 years. It is bittersweet, because as most of you know, the business was very near & dear to my heart, but the time has come for me to focus on my writing. I look forward to being able to write books in the daylight hours & get some much needed sleep!

I want to thank each & every single person who has supported me through my indie career, and to everyone who has read & loved my books! You all ROCK!

If you would like to be updated as to the Legacy news & launch dates, etc, please go and like this page: I will, of course, repost all information on The Legacy Book Club FB page too!

My publishers website is:

I will keep you all informed as I learn (and I am sure, love!) this process, which is every authors dream come true.

That’s enough for now… I have some champagne to be chilling!

Much Love





Rainfall – The Long Shot

Hi All,

I am so sorry for the radio silence the past few weeks on my blog. I do try to make the FB page my first priority, so that always takes preference. Also – I use my blog as a creative outlet for my “humorous” side. 3 young children on school holiday (FOR-6-WEEKS!!!!!!) coinciding with my darling BFF, Fikile, going on leave is just simply not funny. At all. Hence, no blogging.

Now, though, I have some exciting news that I had to share. Rainfall, the little book that could, has just made it to the #1038 selling book in the Kindle store. It is being featured on an Amazon promotion and is doing really, really well. Just to put that in perspective: there are over 2 million books on Kindle. And only 1037 of those books are outselling Rainfall. Kinda cool hey? I have a goofy smile on my face as I type this. Look, its no TOP 100 (which is every authors dream come true), but its not bad for the Indie Saffa Author who *blush* underestimated her own book. You all know that The Legacy Series is my baby – it’s just more my cup of Earl Grey – but I am so, so humbled & grateful that Paige & Adam’s story is touching readers hearts!!!

Now, the promotion still runs for another 5 days, 1 hour & 17 minutes, so whether it gains momentum or plummets down into obscurity at any minute, I couldn’t care less. Because right now, at this very moment, I am outselling some of my own idols. And THAT is the most awesome feeling EVER.

I will keep you posted & post the end results, but today is a good, good day 🙂

Wishing you all Season’s Greetings & I hope that 2014 is a fantastic year!

Much Love,






Why you should never judge a mother. Like, Ever.

So, as we all know I have 3 children. Hang on, quick head count.. .1, 2… yes, there are definitely still 3. (Yay me!) Sometimes it feels like a million. Most days I feel like this:


I’m a pretty good mom – my children are my life – and yet I’ve had my fair share of judgement. I’m the first to admit I don’t always get it right and most of the time I’m pretty open to any friendly parental advice. Note, I said FRIENDLY & PARENTAL. Implying be nice and be a PARENT. If you have kids and you have tricks – I want them. What I don’t care for, not even a little bit, is someone without children offering me sage, textbook advice & judging. You have NO IDEA what its like – how hard it is, being a mom. And it will come back to bite you in the previously skinny ass haunt you.

 Nothing will irritate a mother so much as the non-mom. You know the one I am talking about. That rare breed of insufferable know-it-all who advises every mother how they should be raising their child. She will eyeball your child as it climbs all over the glass coffee table, then “discreetly” raise her perfectly mascaraed eyes at her own husband. What she’s saying is that you suck and you are not doing your job, with a little bit of “I could do this so much better” thrown in.

 Her sentences generally begin with the words “My child will never…” Yes, yes, we KNOW. Your child will never be given sweets on demand when in an insanely long queue at Woolworths, even if he or she screams and performs for 45 minutes, raising the blood pressure of thirty two innocent bystanders who just happened to need cheese on a Saturday morning.  

 Your child will never pull the puppy around the house by the tail and feed it sour worms until it is violently ill all over the Persian rug you spent a fortune on before you had children. 

 Your child will never throw a tantrum.   (ha bloody ha.)

 Your child will never pee on the grass when swimming on a hot summer’s day and will most certainly never pick its nose in public and then eat it. 

 Your child will not say “No!” when you ask it to thank your oldest remaining relative for the hand-made embroidered pillow case.

  Your child will never watch too much TV, will never own a Playstation and will never leave the table unless all of its supper is devoured and a huge gesture of appreciation delivered, followed by a “No jelly for me, mom, it’s very bad for my teeth, perhaps just a small glass of carrot juice to fill the gap”.

Yeah, good luck with that. You don’t scare us – mom’s are fearless. scare me

 The reason that moms dislike these non-moms is twofold:

  Firstly, never judge a mother. Never. Not even if that mother is seen beating her four year old back side of the head while she wipes her two years olds running nose with the same wet-wipe she just used to clean the baby’s bum. In the world of moms that is known as multi-tasking. Write it down. You cannot judge a mother, particularly if you are not one. Before having my daughter I told everyone else how to do it. After I had her, I kept Valium in my handbag and wholeheartedly praised another mother for doing a fabulous job if she wasn’t peeling herself off the ceiling every night.

  The second reason moms dislike non-moms is that non-moms have great bodies and get to enjoy copious amounts of guilt-free red-wine. But really there’s no need to embellish upon this reason.

A word from the wise: Take it from a mom who knows and heed my words before you do something you regret. Nothing pleases a mom more than watching judgemental non-moms become mothers. Your child will do all of the above and you will be powerless to stop it. Kids are funny like that – they are not robots. And the more you have used the words: “my child will never”, the more us moms will laugh and snigger behind your back and gossip about your troubles.

Your confidence will most probably not be able to stand this as gone are the days of perfect hair, perfect make-up and perfect body – those daily visits to the gym are history sister! And all those marvellous ideas like baking cookies and rainbow-coloured spaghetti aren’t going to work either. More likely you will forget the spaghetti on the stove, resulting in a congealed sticky mess. In my house we call this “mould your own supper night.”

 We will believe you truly deserving of every moment and will smirk quietly into our drinks while you run around after your child, scream at your husband for his not helping you and basically flog yourself to death in front of an audience. At a moment’s notice any one of us could intervene and use one of many tricks that real moms have learnt through continuous trial and error, however in all likelihood, we won’t, because we want you to suffer. 

 That’s right. 

 Behind your back we will encourage your child’s naughty behaviour and laugh at your inability to deal with it. Moms are sadistic and very protective of their children. If you have judged a mother and her child, you may as well have kicked a sexually-deprived starving Rottweiler in the balls while eating a burger. She will not forget. You.will.suffer.

For the real moms out there – this one’s for you, with all my respect & sympathy 😉

You know you a mom when……….
1. Instead of running from projectile vomit, you run towards it.
2. You do more in seven minutes than most people do all day.
3. Happy hour has become the 60 minutes between your kids going to bed and you going to bed.
4. A night of drinking requires more recovery time than minor surgery.
5. A glass o…f wine counts as a serving of fruit.
6. You have mini-therapy sessions all day long with anyone who will listen.
7. Going to the grocery store by yourself is a vacation.
8. You can experience heaven and hell at the same time.
9. You think of physical pain on three levels: pain, excruciating pain and stepping on a Lego.
10. You have the ability to hear a sneeze through closed doors in the middle of the night, two bedrooms away, while your SO snores next to you.
11. You’d rather have a 103 degree fever than watch one of your kids suffer with it.
12. You’d rather go to sleep than have sex.
13. A 15-minute shower with the door locked feels like a day at the spa.
14. Peeing with an audience is part of the daily routine.
15. You use baby wipes to clean up random spills and the dash of your car.
16. You lock yourself in the bathroom and pretend to have diarrhea just to get a break.
17. You love Moms’ Night Out and Date Night with the Hubs.
18. You have a secret chocolate stash because frankly, you’re sick of sharing.
19. You’ve been washing the same load of laundry for three days because you forgot to dry it.

            Source unknown



The Sounds of Silence

** Not suitable for sensitive viewers**

As anyone who knows me personally can attest, there is something I love to do even more than writing. TALKING. To be honest, I just don’t shut up… as a result I have the 3 loudest children The only way to be heard above them is to shout even louder. Then they go. Then me. It’s a vicious circle. #truestory

SO, for the past month I have had this sore throat, and my voice has taken on a husky timbre that would do Amy Winehouse (RIP) proud. I briefly considered becoming a voice over for uber-sexy TV commercials, but the pain being too much I instead made an appointment to see a local GP *Note: this is not my actual GP, who is on maternity leave, but a stand-in.

I was prescribed an antibiotic. Note: at no point could the aforementioned, not-my-usual-GP actually tell me what was wrong with me, but she happily rang up my R440 bill and told me that should I not feel better in a week I should rather see an ENT. I paid her with polite smile firmly in place and resisted the urge to tell her to piss off for being useless.

Needless to say, the antibiotic didn’t work. (And no, they will not refund you for being wrong – trust me, I tried) I soldiered on for another week but today I just couldn’t bear it any longer and off I went to see the dreaded ENT.

A brief summary of my visit:

ENT:     “Where exactly is the pain?”
ME:        “Well, this may sound strange, but it feels like its coming from my voice box.”
ENT:       “Have you strained your voice recently?”
ME:         *Silence*  Oh fuck, I can’t tell him, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I’m 33 years old FFS!   “Um, not that I can recall.”
ENT:        (Suspicious look)  “I need to look in your throat.”
ME:          (sticking out my tongue) “Aaaaaaaah”
ENT:       “No, with a telescope. First I’m going to need to numb your nose and throat. This may feel strange, as if you can’t breathe, or swallow, but you can.”
ME:          (in a small, frightened voice)  “What if I can’t?”
ENT:        (more sternly)  “No, but you can.”
ME:          “How far are we from the ICU?”
ENT:        “No need to panic. Now, this will sting just for a few seconds.”

At this point, he sprayed liberal amounts of some evil designed-by-sadists solution down my throat and up my nose, and just for a second I thought he was exaggerating. And then…the burn. Holy hell, I thought, this must be what they throw on women’s faces in those awful places where torture is still legal. The pain was excruciating – my eyes watered, my nostrils flared, and I thought about all the things I hadn’t done in my life yet… ridden an elephant, had a hot-air balloon ride, met Ian Somerhalder…

To be fair, it really only stung for about 3 seconds. Maybe less, it’s all a bit blurred.

At this stage the ENT looked slightly alarmed, but ever the professional, he continued.

And then it happened. He stuck a tube up my nose, which went down my throat. Repeated the process with a metal prong down my throat. #utterlyviolated  I didn’t think things could possibly get any worse, and then he asked me to take a seat. Oh God, I’m dying. I sat.

ENT:       “You have nodules on your vocal chords.”

My brain whirred, faster than NASA’s fastest high-tech computer. Nodules, nodules… I hit a blank. WTF are nodules?? I cleared my throat.

ENT:       “Don’t do that, it will make it worse. Here, let me show you the scan.”

The next ten minutes were spent looking down my own throat and trying not to gag**

He shuffled some papers around and then looked straight at me. Almost through me. His beady eyes narrowed and I swear I heard ‘The Good, The Bad & The Ugly’ Showdown theme song playing in my head. I couldn’t look away.

ENT:        “Are you sure you haven’t strained your voice recently?”

I didn’t answer. I’m not going to break. Not even if he starts pulling out my fingernails, or strapping electrodes to my chest. NO.WAY.

ENT:        (in a persuasive voice) “Possibly you watched the Sharks game last weekend?”

Oh hell no! I am so not going down like that. I had to come clean. I cast my mind back to 5 weeks before, and the excitement as the package finally arrived on my desk. How could I possibly have known it would end this way?

ME:         “I bought the GLEE Soundtrack.” (I resisted the urge to add, “There! Are you happy now? Do you feel good about yourself, breaking others down like this?!)
ENT:       “Pardon?”
ME:         “Um, well, it’s a music soundtrack.”
ENT:       “And how did this… Aaaah.” (Unnatural silence)   “You’ve been singing then, I presume?”
ME:          “There’s a…um… Journey song… it’s called “Don’t stop believing…”
ENT:        “I believe I know it.”
ME:           “Well, there are a lot of um…. “da da da’s” in the opening.”
ENT:        (looks thoughtful and taps foot as though playing song in head) “Yes, there are actually.”
ME:          “I may have played it a few times.” (Note: I played it about 672 times and sang along LOUDLY each and every time)
ENT:         “Well, there’s your problem. You strained the vocal chords and developed nodules, which are preventing you from projecting your voice and causing  the considerable pain.”
ME:           “In my defence, I also shout at my children a lot.”
ENT:         (suspicious look back in place) “Well, there’s that too, then.”
ME:           “I mean, I’m not a bad mom or anything, but there are 3 of them, and they don’t really listen if I use the calm Supernanny voice.”
ENT:         “The what voice?”
ME:           “Supernanny – she’s on the telly.”
ENT:         “I don’t think I’ve seen that show.”
ME:           “Don’t bother. I mean, she’s all about going down to their level – which, by the way, generally results in one or all of them leaping onto your back and WWF-ing your ass to the floor. And as for the naughty corner, that’s a right joke. I mean, they just don’t stay there… how does she even get them to stay there? It’s not normal.”
ENT:         (alarmed look back in place) “Yes, well about your nodules…”
ME:           (narrow eyed) “I’m a good mom.”
ENT:        “I’m sure you are… Now, you’ll need some Prednisone.”
ME:           “Ooh, my hubby takes that. For his gout.”
ENT:         “Does he get gout often?”
ME:           “All the time… whenever he drinks.”
ENT:         (Eyebrows shooting up into his hairline) “Is that so?”
ME:           “He’s a good dad.”

Honestly, I mean, I can practically see him dialling child welfare the minute I walk out the room. I need to get out of here.

“So, what do I do?” I ask briskly, then, lowering my voice conspiratorially, “about the nodules?”

ENT:         “Right, right. We’ll need them to heal, or you might need surgery. The first thing you need to do is see a vocal coach.”
ME:           “My husband would agree with you.”
ENT:         (Snort of laughter covered by very obvious throat clearing) “Actually, it’s more like a speech therapist, just to train you to speak properly, as the nodules will affect your speech and it’s important not to develop bad habits.”
ME:             “Right, vocal therapist. What else?”
ENT:           “You need to rest your voice.”
ME:             “I beg your pardon?”
ENT:           “You need to be very quiet. No singing, no yelling at the kids, very little talking.”
ME:              “My husband called you, didn’t he?”

So here I am… speechless. I’ve been signing to my kids all afternoon, they think it’s hysterical, but I know the novelty will wear off. They can sense my fear, they’re like bloodhounds… they smell it.

I have to go back in 4-6 weeks and if there’s no improvement he’s going to have to cut those pesky nodules out.

I’ll keep you posted, and in the meantime, if anyone wants to come over to mine and yell at some kids… give me a holler 🙂 

**The inside of your throat looks like a va-jay-jay

Seriously – Google it: Nodules on vocal chords. It’s gross.

The Legacy Characters

I have come to realise that women are fickle. Deep, meaningful, life-changing quotes don’t interest us, but stick a picture of a gorgeous hunk on FB and all of a sudden, your reach quadruples. Shame on you, ladies! And all the power to ya 😉

As my FB post about who I pictured Aidan to be seemed to get so much attention, it was only a natural progression to blog about the other characters, hence this post.

When I started writing The Legacy, I had set images in my mind, that I used to describe my characters. I actually find this the easiest way to remember all the details about them (hair colour, eye colour, etc) because otherwise halfway though I have forgotten.

As you know now, Aidan looked like this in my head:

This fine specimen (aka Justin Hartley) has long been a firm favourite of mine, ever since he first wore those “toit” green tights as the Green Arrow on Smallville. I even sat through the entire first (and thankfully last) season of Emily Owens MD, just to witness this eye candy every Wednesday night. The CW axed the show and my withdrawals began…so imagine my delight when he showed up in the third season of Revenge!!! And he is just SO Aidan…. handsome, clean-cut, wholesome. Yum!

Then there’s Aidan’s nemesis, our Sexy Southern Bad Boy, Reed. In my head, he looks like this:
sawya[1] But lately someone said she pictures the guy from Thor (Chris Hemsworth)… so now I am torn. I still think this is more Reed, though 😉

Eric. Oh how I love to hate Eric. And what blog post would be complete without my darling Ian?? No words, Ladies.. just drool at my Eric: (I bet you all saw this one coming!)

Michael and Morgan. You all know I’m a big fan of Pittacus Lore’s I am Number Four series, and these two fit the bill for Michael & Morgan Kelly perfectly!I AM NUMBER FOUR

So that leaves us with Rebecca. The feisty, kick-ass heroine of the series. I love writing about Bex – I love that she’s strong and beautiful and the leader of an entire army. It’s just awesome. Because Bella Swan nearly killed me, and I wanted a female lead that would never, ever (and I mean EVER) be anything like Bella. So, for what its worth, this is my Rebecca Davis:
Yes, its ridiculously ironic that she played a lead role in the Twilight Saga, considering my comment above, but lets just chalk this one up to artistic license!

Enjoy your week ahead, stay safe

My first bad review

It finally happened. That moment every writer dreads. THE.BAD.REVIEW.

This is the first time, so it stung a little. I read it with my heart in my throat and a cold, sickening dread in the pit of my stomach. She didn’t like my book… how could she not like my book? *sob*

Initial reaction: Ask Bad reviewer if she’s ever written a book. Spent hours and days and months slaving over this labour of love, which you then send out into the universe, like your first born child. In my head, I dressed her down, making her see the error of her ways. In my head, this conversation ended with her on her knees, begging for my forgiveness. BEST.DREAM.EVER (oh, except for that one I had about Ian Somerhalder)

It is important to note that at this point a message popped up from Goodreads saying:

Ok, you got a bad review. Deep breath. It happens to every author eventually. Keep in mind that one negative review will not impact your book’s sales. In fact, studies have shown that negative reviews can actually help book sales, as they legitimize the positive reviews on your book’s page.
We really, really (really!) don’t think you should comment on this review, even to thank the reviewer. If you think this review is against our Review Guidelines, please flag it to bring it to our attention. Keep in mind that if this is a review of the book, even one including factual errors, we generally will not remove it.
For more on how to interact with readers, please see our Author Guidelines.
If you still feel you must leave a comment, click “Accept and Continue” below to proceed (but again, we don’t recommend it).

At this I realised that Goodreads is comprised of bona fide Ninja’s. They know. They know what you are going to do before you even do it. Well played, Goodreads, well played.

So, I did what every writer in my shoes would do instead. I STALKED her. And here’s what I discovered:

* My Bad Reviewer likes horror stories. Okay, my book is a romance, so not really her cup of earl grey.

* My Bad Reviewer has an average rating of 3 stars (out of 5) – she gave me a 2, (translation: It was okay)

She said she didn’t even finish. DNF. I couldn’t believe it. My poor little e-book, just dumped out with the trash. Worse than that time I accidentally flushed 3 of my goldfish out with the water when cleaning their bowl.

Deep down I needed something. Something to make my heart hurt just a little bit less. So I went searching for 1 star reviews other (famous) authors have endured. And I read a bunch. Here are some excerpts of my favourites (I have edited out the names of the books to protect the innocent)

#1 Review on New York Times Bestseller, that I LOVED

Holy hell.
Thankfully I took a day before writing this review otherwise I would be having a vitriolic rant about the questionable judgement of many readers on GR. I am a wee bit horrified by the taste level I’m coming across. But I digress.So what was wrong with TITLE? It would be easier to tell you what was right with it: nothing.
Monotonous, repetitive, predictable, unoriginal, mindless, cliche…these are just a few of the words that come to mind.The writing is simply not good. It is monotonous and absolutely lacked a descriptive quality. When there were descriptions they were vague. And don’t get me started on how the author chose to treat sexual relations in the book. Every instance of sex was approached in a prudish manner which was just ridiculous.
NAME’s biological clock was fucking annoying…..

(OMG she dropped the F-bomb!!)

#2: Review on one of the Greatest authors of our time:

Wow, truly, truly awful! This is a book I really wish I had never read. Admittedly, it is clearly written to appeal to the fairer sex, but even taking that into account, it’s just really, really bad. The plot is flimsy, the characters are weak and 2-dimensional, the writing is trite and sophomoric. There are all of these thrown-in sex scenes that are just so out of place and ugly and tacky and gross. And then, the epilogue happened, and … wow! That truly was the coup de grace. What a waste of my time. I can honestly say, I hated this book. It’s the worst book I have read in a very long time. So, reminder for myself – never again read a book by this author. His writing is definitely not for me.

Okay, I admit, after laughing my ass off, I had to look up the word “sophomoric” – it means pretentious or juvenile. Just in case you were wondering!

Then there was the reviewer who added a book to the following shelves:

Shelves: dropped-in-the-toilet, the-hate-it-burns, buddy-or-group-read, fat-kitty-judges-you, dafuq-did-i-just-read, is-it-just-me-goddammit, whiny-bitches, kill-it-with-fire, reviewed-2011, authors-i-want-to-stab, lust-at-first-sight, mary-sue, lit-for-the-chicks, romance-contemp, well-arent-you-mister-popularity, facepalm, blame-the-darksiders

I’ve gotta say, I admire the creativity. Makes my shelves: “Read”, “To Read” & “Currently Reading” look pretty dull by comparison!

Feeling slightly better, I decided maybe I should call off the P.I and scrap my meagre attempt at a voodoo doll. And then, I saw it. I heard an angel choir singing and the light of a thousand candles filled my room:

* My Bad Reviewer once gave James Patterson a 1 star review.

At this point I cracked open the champagne. I mean, how many authors can say they’re better than James Patterson 😉

Happy Wednesday Y’all!



50 Shades of Grey

Explicit Content.. be warned!

Say what you like about E.L James’s writing, this sassy lady hit the big time. So really, she doesn’t care what we think. Give her a 1 star review and she is still laughing all the way to the bank. 70 million copies sold and counting…. that’s 70,000,000. I haven’t seen that many zeroes since they did a tally of Kristen Stewart’s emotional acting range.


And the S-E-X scenes… OMG, can I just say that it is mortifying writing that stuff. I simply can’t, I have tried but all that happens is that I go an awful shade of magenta and pray fervently that Murray doesn’t peer over my shoulder IN THE MIDDLE. I don’t think I would ever come back from that. It would probably lead to suggestions and lewd remarks, that would quite simply be too much to handle.

The one thing that old E.L got right was her leading man. CHRISTIAN GREY. I just want to rip his clothes off… I found him rather attractive in a pervy sort of way. No easy feat taking a man with mommy issues and massive sexual perversions and turning him into every woman’s fantasy. I mean, really. I had flashes of Murray threatening to spank me and I swear I reached for the frying pan. It just doesn’t work in the real world, but with Christian, oh it just does!

Sadly, E.L lost me about halfway through book 2, although I soldiered on and finally finished book 3 about a year later. The reason? Quite simply… Christian became 50 Shades of Gay. All those ‘feelings’ and “Oh Ana, I want to treat you well and be the best husband in the world.” He was just too tame and he lost his Grrrrr factor. Like expecting Superman for supper and getting Clark Kent instead. And then, there was the ending. I am sorry to say the ending was just too much for my brain. And the “K.F-ery” that transpired while Ana was pregnant was just taking it one step too far. It was gross. I think I threw up in my mouth a little.

So all in all, the trilogy ended on a low note for me, although I was a big fan way back at book 1. Now, the hype has died down and everyone started looking forward to the movie. Husbands, mostly, I think. Because for the first time in history, it’s the ladies who are wanting to watch porn.

Everyone’s talking about the recent announcement of the casting of the lead roles in the movie version. Here they are: Ana & Christian, to be played by : Dakota Johnson & Charlie Hunnam.

50-shades-of-grey-movie-cast[1]Oh boy, after the much awaited announcement did these two come under fire! Some fans have even gone so far as to start a PETITION to get these two axed and the parts re-cast. Seriously? In a world where the rhino hangs on the brink of extinction and children are starving? I mean, its ridiculous getting so hot under the collar about something so trivial. Please, people, lets leave the petitions where they belong…with issues that are important and truly make a difference in the world. Like getting Ian Somerhalder to walk around naked. ALL THE TIME.

Now obviously Ian had my vote from the get go, but I’m not burning bra’s just yet. Instead, I cast my mind back. Robert Pattinson, Taylor Lautner, Kristen Stewart. Who knew these 3 before the Twilight Saga? They were unknowns, and it didn’t turn out so badly. I also did some research and Googled Charlie Hunnam, SANS facial hair. He actually cleans up quite nicely  – I can definitely see a little Fifty underneath all that ‘Sons of Anarchy’ mojo. And to be frank I don’t care who plays Ana – she irritated me to death. I kept hoping her inner Goddess and her subconscious would punch each others lights out so that I didn’t have to hear about them anymore.

I say give these up-and-comings a chance –  everyone needs their big break. They’ve been given an opportunity, now lets wait and see what they do with it. The movie is scheduled for release August 2014, so until then…..




Predictive Text


Predictive text makes me want to break stuff. And when activated on a touch screen, there is no limit to what can go wrong.

This evening I told my bestie that she needs to move back home so that we can see each other all the urine. All the urine? WTF?

And every time I go for dinner in Westville, my babysitter hears I’m heading to Nashville. Yeah, cause that Taylor Swift needs all the competition she can get!

Then there was the time I was sending a friend my famous brownie recipe and told her she would need eggs, flour and Mike. Mike? really. What kind of brownies are these… tall, dark and naked???

Another favourite is when I said “I’ll see you in web minutes”.  Apparently I, unlike everyone else out there, operate on Spiderman time.

Sent the hubby a romantic text… “You are my one and oyster.” Um…….

Predictive touch screen text can literally destroy relationships, be warned.

After a few glasses of wine, I was trying to compliment a recently divorced special lady who was feeling a bit down and doubting her ability to snare a new man, let alone one who would be good to her kids. I told her she was looking sexy and would find another……. She never responded. Turns out what I really said was: You’re looking sixty, you’ll find neither.

My friend got really sick once and she messaged me all about how awful she was feeling. I sent her kisses, except instead of xxx, it read zzz… we’re not really talking anymore.

Unfortunately in todays fast paced world, we rarely have time to check, and re-read every short message we send. But maybe I should. Or send them to my editor for proofreading, because I must be the worlds worst.

And I’m not even going to mention the time I told that woman to suck off…..

Happy Thursday everyone, here’s to gearing down for the weekend!