A tale of Twitter woe.

WARNING 1: Stop reading/looking right now if you don’t like cute dog pics.

WARNING 2: This post contains inappropriate material (as in a dog smoking and the use of the offensive sexist term ‘ho-bag’).

I'm an upside down kind of a girl!

I’m an upside-down kind of a girl!

Blossom McWoof’s life on Twitter was briefer than Tony Abbott’s red speedos. No, I’m not segwaying into politics, I’ll leave that to Ed at the Tunnel Presents… He lampoons with great wit and panache.

Less than 36 hours after setting up her profile, Blossom’s account was closed with the hurtful words “that user is suspended”. OUCH or I should say, WOOF! Twitter needs to work on their interpersonal skills and bedside manner. They didn’t reply to my email in which I lamented this brutal closure and politely requested they reconnect, but perhaps @BlossomMcWoof wasn’t big enough to warrant a reply (with only 3 followers and one of them was her mother). But it was early days – it takes a while to build a decent following…well a week, at least.

7 month old Blossom hadn’t trolled anyone in her short Twitter-life, not even a DOG, but she’d flirted outrageously with Queensland bf, Pablo Escobark.

My Frenchy Look.

I am Pablo and this is my Frenchy Look.

While Debonair Pablo’s Frenchness was intensely alluring, that minx Blossom was also attracted to his drug-lord persona. She’s that kind of a girl – excited by life in the fast (and dangerous) lane…

Pablo - Mexican drug lord.

Appearances are deceptive: I am Pablo, Mexican Drug Lord.

Trouble is Blossom’s Sydney boyfriend, Freddy, doesn’t know about Pabs. So perhaps it was for the best Twitter stepped in.

Flirting with my Sydney  bf (don't tell Pabs).

Freddy on left. Please don’t tell Pabs! Plea to Pabs, please don’t tell Freddy!

Are we bored yet? Hope not, there’s more…

Blossom’s mother is Poppet and there is a striking family resemblance:

Poking my tongue out at random strangers is fun!

Poking out our tongues at random strangers while driving is fun!

Plus we share a penchant for taking selfies:

Love is cuddles.

Is this my best angle?

Unfortunately Blossom has a tendency to be slutty (which we’re hoping she’ll grow out of). Although de-sexed a month ago, she jumps on her brother and tries to hump cuddle him. It’s not as bad as it sounds – they’re not blood related (no incest here). Nate (Nathaniel – why oh why do Pet Rescue give their dogs human names?) isn’t very impressed.

Give me a break!

Give me a break!

Pets seem to acquire more inventive nicknames than people. Matriarch Coco has the funniest repertoire I’ve ever heard. 🙂  And speaking of nicknames, Poppet has taken to calling Blossom ‘My little ho-bag’ (teen-speak for femme fatale). At least ho-bagness doesn’t seem to run in the family…so far, it’s confined to Blossom.

For my next post, I’m writing about flirting (human, not dog). Alana wrote brilliantly on this topic recently. Apparently the definition of flirting is “acting amorously without serious intent”. Watch this space.

Addendum: As I type, Blossom has just wrecked a 5th pair of shoes (my favourite flats). Grrrrr! If she wasn’t so cute and adorable I’d sent her off to the glue factory (as Napoleon did with poor Boxer in ‘Animal Farm’).


Lovely bead-studded bow.

Lovely bead-studded bow.


Droopy beadless bow, dripping with saliva.

Limp and droopy beadless bow, dripping with saliva.

Do you have a cute or destructive force in your house? Or both?

Joining Trish and My Little Drummer Boys today for Wordless Wednesday and linking with Grace and FYBF.


Old-school teacher learns new tricks…

More at home in a classroom with chalk and paper, I am a relative newcomer to social media. It was with a naïve and rather gormless view that I approached blogging and Twitter. My mind was an empty vessel – so much to learn…  Kerri Sackville’s Twitter course was invaluable – full of sensible advice and practical tips. Why then do I still find it a bit scary?
I am no shrinking-violet – one can’t survive the slings and arrows of a high school for twenty years without gaining a tough exterior. One can’t be too precious standing in front of a classroom of bored, eye-rolling Year 9s, who would rather be doing anything else than deconstructing a piece of text. One can’t be self-obsessed when a room of Year 12s pin you with their anxious gazes, relying on you to guide them through the biggest exam pressure they have ever faced and on which much can hinge.
So I’ve learnt dealing with very bored, very cool teenagers to be a bit blasé about myself and my image, not to take me too seriously…if I have a pimple on my face when I leave home in the morning, I expect soon to have a student asking, “Oh miss, you’ve got a big pimple on your chin!” Thank you for that, Amber. (Aren’t adolescents supposed to be the ones with troublesome skin?) And when I’ve been a bit radical with my hair, sure as anything before long I will hear, “That’s different Miss but I prefer your normal hair.” Thank you for sharing that, Jayden. Or if I am away and a young, gorgeous relief teacher takes my class, “Miss we really liked the new teacher we had yesterday. She/he did fun stuff!” I could tell you had fun class, the desks and chairs were rearranged and there were paper balls all over the floor. The young can be so casually brutal!
Along the way I’ve acquired a certain tough confidence, with several children under my belt and two husbands (not at the same time), a nice family and true friends. I feel quite privileged, even blessed in life’s lottery. The modest success with publishing books for adolescents when I was young thrilled me, though as all writers know, one can never be complacent about publishing. (Penguin recently rejected my manuscript for ‘So Not Funny’).
Tough and confident enough to follow everyone’s advice and release my manuscript as an eBook, open a Twitter account and begin blogging. Yet it’s tricky being propelled into a world where norms are new and rules are different. It’s like comparing a blackboard with a new interactive white board – a daunting new tool – great but challenging to master. Cyberland is a hazardous playing field: New friends abound yet you can offend them with the hasty tapping of 140 characters. The irony you thought was witty is taken literally, leaving the recipient thinking you’re rude. You can be unfollowed and left wondering “Was it something I said?” And try as you might to shrug it off, you can’t help analysing your comments with all the paranoia of an insecure narcissist. 
Social media expert Jodi Gibson was so reassuring and inspiring that I am going to continue my little cyber trajectory because, apart from flashes of self-doubt, I’ve learnt it’s about fun. I enjoy the diverse blogs I read (too numerous to list!) I am constantly surprised and touched by the wit and cleverness that dwells in Cyberland, by the kindness and wealth of experience and knowledge that lie within a keyboard’s reach.

GarfieldAs Garfield once said, “That’s enough of me talking about me, now you talk about me… err you.” What’s your experience with social media, was it smooth, or are you still navigating your journey through Cyberland? Are you having fun in the process?