Lindsey Black is making her clubhouse debut on the Release Day of her first novel!
Big Unicorn welcome and Happy Release Day!
There are a lot of lists out there along the lines of ‘hottest occupations’. We’ve all contributed at some point; a man in uniform, the military, police and firemen. Perhaps it was the intellectual—the teacher, the professor, the scientist, perhaps the occasional astronaut. Or sometimes it’s the trade, we like a plumber, an electrician or the odd builder. And then of course there is the sportsmen, because who doesn’t like a good footy or hockey player, right? There’s something about a man who works. I can’t say I’ve strayed far from the traditional in that sense with Fishy Riot; a policeman and a classical musician is an odd combination but both would be considered ‘attractive’ in the traditional sense. Though honestly, in Australia no one is really lining up to date a classical musician unless they’re in an AC/DC cover band.
Regardless, I thought it would be fun to briefly explore the attractive men of the Northern Territory, where I live, and what would be considered ‘stereotypically’ attractive. And by that I mean a completely separate species of man that is wholly un-attractive. I confess I enlisted the assistance of several companions in the creation of our list, but I hope it gives you a good chuckle. Here’s our wanted ad, for that special someone…
Wanted: True-Blue Territory (Bogan) Bloke
Requirements:
1. Must be unemployed, with nothing better to do than spend every waking hour administering to my needs. None of this 70 hour work week business. Not owning your own home is a bonus, you can move in immediately. Preferably on the dole, so you can help pay the rent. Basics card preferred, so you can’t go on any benders without my assistance.
2. No fancy bottles of wine for dinner, this lovely gent knows to turn up with a goon bag and knows how to hang it on the line. BYO plastic cups to avoid meningococcal, thanks. Doesn’t try to drink his partner’s goon and instead brings a carton of XXXX for himself.
3. Preferred footwear is thongs. Design matters; red white and blue colouring is obviously best but green and gold is tolerable. Singlets are clearly the shirt of choice, bonus points for both nipples out. Shorts, the shorter the better, stubbies clearly…no underwear, let it hang. We don’t like to restrict ourselves in this kind of heat.
4. Some scientific knowledge preferable, to run garage hydroponics, background in economics useful, or at least able to count notes. If unable, must own vehicle (unregistered is fine, no expectation that you actually have a license due to understandable charges) so you can pick up from dealer down the road. Short trip, fuel money provided since no Uber in NT.
5. No need for walks on the beach, have the app to put it on the TV, just need to walk to the couch together for Netflix and chill. No oysters, I’m allergic to seafood, just bring shark and taties from the corner store when you go for darbs.
6. Don’t expect to spend all your time with me; must have close knit circle of friends who are welcome at the house anytime, but must sleep outside. The bitza-dog you provide from the pound will be adequate protection from itinerants who somehow meander innocently into the kitchen through the dead-bolted door in their search for hydration and find only beer in the fridge.
7. Must enjoy piggin’ with the boys to provide for family. Bulk spotties on the Ute; must be a Ute so we can chuck the barbie in the back to cook ‘em up on the spot.
8. Tinny ownership preferred. You can always ‘borrow’ the neighbours though, he’s totes cashed up.
9. Yuppie Barista types need not apply, but if you can shake Nescafe into a mug and stir it with anything but your finger, you’re already in front of the tea baggers. If you know what Chai is, don’t bother applying, ‘cos you'll be drinking that shit on your own.
Requirements:
1. Must be unemployed, with nothing better to do than spend every waking hour administering to my needs. None of this 70 hour work week business. Not owning your own home is a bonus, you can move in immediately. Preferably on the dole, so you can help pay the rent. Basics card preferred, so you can’t go on any benders without my assistance.
2. No fancy bottles of wine for dinner, this lovely gent knows to turn up with a goon bag and knows how to hang it on the line. BYO plastic cups to avoid meningococcal, thanks. Doesn’t try to drink his partner’s goon and instead brings a carton of XXXX for himself.
3. Preferred footwear is thongs. Design matters; red white and blue colouring is obviously best but green and gold is tolerable. Singlets are clearly the shirt of choice, bonus points for both nipples out. Shorts, the shorter the better, stubbies clearly…no underwear, let it hang. We don’t like to restrict ourselves in this kind of heat.
4. Some scientific knowledge preferable, to run garage hydroponics, background in economics useful, or at least able to count notes. If unable, must own vehicle (unregistered is fine, no expectation that you actually have a license due to understandable charges) so you can pick up from dealer down the road. Short trip, fuel money provided since no Uber in NT.
5. No need for walks on the beach, have the app to put it on the TV, just need to walk to the couch together for Netflix and chill. No oysters, I’m allergic to seafood, just bring shark and taties from the corner store when you go for darbs.
6. Don’t expect to spend all your time with me; must have close knit circle of friends who are welcome at the house anytime, but must sleep outside. The bitza-dog you provide from the pound will be adequate protection from itinerants who somehow meander innocently into the kitchen through the dead-bolted door in their search for hydration and find only beer in the fridge.
7. Must enjoy piggin’ with the boys to provide for family. Bulk spotties on the Ute; must be a Ute so we can chuck the barbie in the back to cook ‘em up on the spot.
8. Tinny ownership preferred. You can always ‘borrow’ the neighbours though, he’s totes cashed up.
9. Yuppie Barista types need not apply, but if you can shake Nescafe into a mug and stir it with anything but your finger, you’re already in front of the tea baggers. If you know what Chai is, don’t bother applying, ‘cos you'll be drinking that shit on your own.
Of course, it’s unlikely you’ll get many responses to this ad if you don’t live local to the NT, but perhaps you’ve discovered something special you can add to your own dating apps. Should you respond to an advertisement like that above and actually attend a party, do not be in any way surprised if you are expected to participate in a round of Goon of Fortune.
Goon of Fortune is a real game. The hills hoist clothesline was invented in Australia, as was the goon bag, so it should come as no surprise that someone invented a way to use both of these inventions in tandem. Basically, everyone stands around in a circle around the clothesline, and you hang a goon bag from one of the lines. The line is spun and whoever it lands above must tip their head back and take a drink. On and on and on… No wonder the world thinks Australians are alcoholics. We turned hanging out the washing into a drinking game! You’re welcome.
I hope you enjoy Fishy Riot and that it gives you a reason to laugh.
Release date for Fishy Riot: April 24th
Blurb:
Most people think riot squad officer Taylor Jameson is an asshole. Little do they know his apparent indifference stems from having a meddlesome family always butting into his business. And little does Taylor know he’s about to stumble into a situation that’ll make indifference impossible.
When everything goes horribly wrong at a political rally on a harbour ferry, Taylor encounters Sietta Salisbury. The son of a wealthy politician, Sietta is a revered—but presumed dead—musician, and an enigma who is so strange, Taylor is compelled to look into his background. What he discovers draws him into a bizarre mess of prisoners, politics, and attempted murder that makes him realise what he’s been missing.
Falling in love isn’t hard. Trying to convince someone else you’re worth loving despite your crazy family and the people trying to kill you? That’s a whole other can of worms.
About Lindsey Black:
Lindsey Black lives in Darwin, Australia, where the weather report permanently reads ‘humidity at 100%, only going to get worse’ for ten months of the year and ‘monsoon at 4:00 p.m. for exactly fifteen minutes’ for the remaining two. Between teaching and studying full-time, she escapes this oppressive environment to bushwalk for weeks on end wherever the mobile phone reception has zero bars for as long as possible and the weather report reads something along the lines of ‘blizzard likely.’ She enjoys martial arts, music, and mayhem, which explains the untidy state of her home where she attempts to write while splitting her minimal amounts of spare time between her incredulous husband, lazy Chinchilla cat, and crazed Siberian husky. If you expect her to sit and have a chat, it’s best to have a matcha green tea latte with almond milk on hand and your hiking boots within reach. Oh, and be sure to bring a guitar for impromptu jam sessions.
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