Once we leave the Garden Book Review * Joretha Isby

Alexandria and Derek Svelti are a young, loving, and devoted couple. To the world, they are everyday people. They live as you and I live. They enjoy going out to dinner with friends, participating in community activities, and saving up for that dream retirement trip around the world. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone with something bad to say about the Sveltis. But Alexandria and Derek are not what they appear.
They are well aware, that as long as you show the world what they want to see, they shall not judge you.


Bookshelf review: The Armageddon Rag by George R.R. Martin

I had the misfortune of picking this book up as well for the same reason – I loved “A song of Ice and Fire” and I was sadly disappointed to see how rubbish the book was… Too much 60’s for my liking and not enough Tolkien.


Valentine’s Day gifts for a bookworm

With Valentine’s day just around the corner, we have been asked what would be the best gifts to lavish a bookworm with?

Get her a message in a bottle that says that you are her special one. Maybe include a cheesy love poem 🙂

“Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face – I know it’s an impossibility, but I cannot help myself.”
Nicholas Sparks, Message in a Bottle


imagesFor a book worm who loves “The Game of Thrones” or “A song of Ice and Fire” series, why not get her a Dothraki necklace/bracelet/ring that says that you are special to her and she is special to you:
“Yer Jalan Atthirari Anni (“Moon of My Life” in Dothraki)”
“Shekh Ma Shieraki Anni (“My Sun and Stars” in Dothraki)”


133241What’s better than an independent woman in a Scottish Castle with a new husband as a hunky hunk and two clans to reconcile in the 1200’s? If your woman likes books, she will devour this funny and delightful romance story and then show you her appreciation 😉

PS: Does contain sex scenes. Not as many as 50 shades of grey, but then again, no other book does!

PS2: If your name is Gabriel, it’s a must-have purchase!


If she has too many books and nowhere to place them anymore and you have a good carpenter hand, why not build her a custom-made bookshelf saying how much you adore her book-fetish!

You could do it with only 12-20 slabs of wood and a hammer or if you have a good credit card, there are some for sale online.



books-and-chocolate-make-life-bearable-book-quoteLast, but not least, shower her in chocolate. 80% cocoa, milk chocolate, chocolate-covered-almonds, haute-couture-chocolate. The darker the better.
If you would not like to splurge in chocolate bon-bons, why not get her a book on how to make chocolate?



10. The Slippery Slope



The hundred GREATEST headlines!

Ever wanted to know what made an article sell? What made a specific person click on a specific advert?
These headlines will turn some heads and you will know why if you read on.

Solving a problem


2014 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 11,000 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.


Guest Blog: Meeting Catherine – My Journey from Shakespeare’s 'Henry V' to 'Catherine de Valois'


Rising to meet the challenges of understanding ourselves as Autistics in a non-autistic world.

Excellent article about Autism


Top Ten Things You Need to Know About Banned and Challenged Books

I have always been interested in banned books – starting from the CIA set of secret files about UFOs to the more obscure books censored by the government for content unsuitable for the population (due to the radical ideas contained). Here’s a great article:


3 AM – Vegeta and Bulma

18certBy: Lisalu

She lay on her side, undreaming and fitful, her lips slightly parted.
A gust of wind from the open window chilled the half-dried streaks of tears on her cheeks. She shivered awake. She had not left the window open, she was sure…She was…she was not alone.She shifted, turning in the arms of the man who lay spooned behind her, the burning warmth of his fever hot body pressed against hers. Incredibly, he had not awakened when she moved. He usually slept as light as a cat, a sudden change in the rhythm of her breathing being enough to rouse him.
He…He had blasted off into the afternoon sky today, minutes after Mirai Trunks departure, without a word or a backward glance. And that, she had thought numbly, was that. She had assumed that would be the last she would ever see of him .
She lay trembling against him, staring into his still face, shadow-lit by nothing but starlight, too many conflicting emotions beginning to rage inside her, one finally achieving ascendancy. She poked him hard.
His eyes shot open, body tensing like a spring, gasping involuntarily in surprise. The black, slanted brows drew together, dark eyes narrowing.
“Coward,” she hissed. “You didn’t even have the balls to face me, did you? Just came crawling back into my bed like a thief in the middle of the night!” The arm he had draped around her tightened angrily, and she gasped as the pressure forced the air out of her lungs.
“Loud mouthed bitch,” he growled. She stared at him stonily, and abruptly the arm loosened. One finger reached up to brush her cheek, still damp with tears. He didn’t speak for the longest time. “You should not grieve,” he said finally, his breath warm against her face. “Kakarott died a warrior’s death.”
“He was my brother, Vegita. In everything but blood. I’m crying because I’ll miss him, because Gohan has lost his father, because Chi-Chi…”
She stopped, choking, tried to turn away so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of mocking her, of telling her how weak she was for giving into a fresh onslaught of weeping, but he held her firmly against him, and she…She
let it all go, shuddering apart with the fear and tension and hurt of the last eighteen months, clinging to him as though she would drown if she ever let go. And on the heels of the tears came the anger she had suppressed, forced down for the sake of saving face in front of Yamcha, pushed away because of the necessity of fighting the danger at hand. She pounded her fist against his chest suddenly, struggling in an embrace that was as strangely gentle as it was unbreakable.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She nearly screamed in his face. “You…you don’t want anything to do with me or my disgusting half-breed, remember? A whore with a brat pushing out her belly is a worthless whore, wasn’t that what you said? Well, fuck you, Vegita! I don’t need you!
I never asked you for a fucking thing. And I’ll be goddammed if I let anyone, anyone treat me without respect! I need—-”
“I know what you need,” he said harshly, and stopped the bitter, tearful flow of her tirade with his mouth, pressing her body down beneath his, catching her flailing fists in one hand and holding them firmly against her pillow.
“No…” She turned her head aside angrily. “No! It’s not that easy! I’m through with you! I’m not—-” She felt his full weight press down on her, knocking the breath from her again. Or was that his mouth, burning its way down the soft line of her throat? It was becoming increasingly difficult to think. His hands were everywhere, his mouth caught one breast and lightly nipped the nipple, and she moaned. Damn him, damn him! She had taught him too well, and he had been a very, very good student. His hand had parted her thighs, his body hard and almost burning to the touch, sliding between her legs, pushing them farther apart.
His breath, rough and ragged in her ear. “You are mine, woman! Your brat is mine! Your body, your heart…” She felt him shudder against her.
“…All of you. You will never rid of me! You will never be free of me!”
He thrust into her, deep and strong, and all that she had been needing for so long. A low groan escaped him as he moved inside fully. He was…he was…Oh kami! She locked her mouth against his and rose up to meet him with all her might, her gasps building to a silent shriek as he took it all away,  the pain and sorrow and bitterness and hurt of the wake of this war that had taken away the best man she’d ever known. He drove it all away in his pounding rhythmic heat, and she matched him in the sweat-soaked fury of stroke after stroke, burning up with the coiled, battering fire of him inside her….And collapsing into tears again as they finished together, wracked with the knowledge, deep and absolute, that if he left her again, rose shaking from her arms and simply vanished without a word, that this time, it would kill her…
“Vegita…” She said, a ghost of a whisper. “I won’t be weak.”
He made no move to pull away or withdraw from her body or her arms.
His face was cold and immobile as he stared into her eyes, one hand tangled in her hair…but his voice shook. “Nor will I…I am strong enough now…strong enough to keep you and the brat from harm.” And she saw something flit across the stony mask of his features, something she’d caught a glimpse of once before, on the night she had told him she was carrying Trunks, the night he had left her. It had puzzled her then, but now she finally saw it for what it was. It was fear. No, it was abject terror. Terror that he cared…and that she would be taken away, violently, bloodily, permanently—As had everything he had ever given a damn about in his life. He was so afraid he pushed me away with both hands, trying to prove to himself and anyone who would listen that he could care less…Had he somehow mastered that fear? “You are mine, woman! You will never be rid of me!” His mouth covered hers again, stopping the questions poised on her lips. She felt herself begin to smile against his kiss, and drew back a little. “Yes, you are stronger,” she said softly. She wound her arms around him, pulling him a little closer.