Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me. Or just barge right in. While I'm taking a shit. I don't mind.

Wednesday 28th 2011, 8:17am, I was sitting on the toilet busting one out. I had a sore stomach. This may have something to do with the shit tonne of chocolate goodness & other junk I rammed down my gullet during 4 days prior. My colon was punishing me for being a greedy asshole. Fair play.

Anyway as I was carefully wiping the remnants from my backend I heard our front door open. Assuming it was Blake heading off to work I thought nothing more of it until the bathroom door opened right on up & I was greeted by the face of a random old stranger. A lost motel guest.

It was at this very moment that I stretched my pyjama top right down over my knees in order to hide my naked bottom half currently on display to this curious & clearly disorientated old geezer. I got a fright. Kinda like being caught masturbating but not really like it at all because I don't do that.

I yelled at him to get out (not the exact words I used). He slams the bathroom door shut & retreats out the door yelling "but the door was unlocked?!".

What the fuck man!! Just because my front door is unlocked does in no way mean hello, please come in to my house & watch me wipe my arse.

This happens a lot. Not the strangers coming into my bathroom part, but the people opening our apartment door part. They get confused. Many of them can't speak or read a word of English & there is a stairwell right beside our apartment that leads guests upstairs to other motel units. One can only assume that when having the stairwell access pointed out to them by the helpful motel receptionist, they get confused.

But now I'm confused, because this particular guest had already been staying with us for the night prior, in a room UPSTAIRS. Nowhere near our apartment. Obviously he knows where his room is? Or not it seems.

I was piss mad & I felt a little invaded. Blake won't even come into the bathroom when I'm mudding. It's a scary time. And I appreciate his fear. It's a mass running fuck attack on the senses. I wouldn't purposely share that part of myself with anyone.

Nothing says welcome to Nelson like being blasted by the stink of a locals freshly laid turd burger. Or the being blinded by the chubby white thigh skin of an angry 30 something year old woman. I hope he has a nice holiday & the terrifying experience is forever ingrained in his memory.

Lucky for him I am now a graceful wiper. And he wasn't met by me doing the downward dog yoga position on top of the toilet attempting to get my short carny arms to reach around past my copious ass cheeks in order to hit the required spot as in previous uber fat years. Bum wiping with an extra 50kg of fat arse is a god dam work out yo. Thankfully this is no longer an issue for me.

I am loving the holidays. I am back at work today for 2 days then I get another 5 days off. I'm leaving Blake at home to look after the motel & I'm heading down to my sisters Bach (holiday home) for New Years eve. I am going to get drunk, lay in the sun & RELAX. First new years off in a few years.

Looking ahead to the new year, these are the things I wish for the me & the universe.

I would like to learn to grow my own veges. Or keep a plant of any kind alive for more than a week.

I would like to keep motivated enough to go to the gym 3-4 times week. Currently I suck balls at that. Mike someone is on holiday. I already have scheduled PT sessions with him in the new year & I know for a fact he is going to work this bitch.

I would like to dedicate more time & make more of an effort to spend time with my family & friends. I also suck at this. I always let the busy take over. Nothing in life is more important than family & friends.

I would like to keep making you whores laugh with my random stories of Becky life fails/toilet adventures & general whatthefuckery. I like to think I have tainted you all somewhat with my filth.

I will endeavour to support my husband 100% with his new study venture as he begins his degree in Naturapathy aka Hippy Medicine Practice. However I will draw the line if he ceases to wash his crotchal region in order to keep his man seed 'pure'or any attempts to smack the bad out of me with supple pine tree branches. I'm not sure that Naturopaths even practice this but I'm just saying.

I will also try to keep my front door locked at all times as to deter old men from witnessing my sacred art of ass wiping. That's private time stuff y'all!!

 True dat Oscar!!

Happy New Years bitches! I hope you greet 2012 with an open heart & mind. And vagina if you happen to get lucky. Be safe wherever you are xx

Have you ever been busted in on while doing something private on the toilet?

Peace, love & please use protection

P.S I will draw the giveaway for the knuckleduster coffee mugs when I get back on the 3rd. If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about I suggest you read this whole post here.
P.P.S I have it on good authority that accidental old perv man was very embarassed. So I forgive him. I love where I live so we'll move on from this.

Best Bits of Becky 2011.

I love all of you. I really do. Maybe not as much as I would love my naked husband covered head to toe in sour cream & chive Pringles, but pretty dam close.

Wherever you are, whoever you are with, know that I'm sending all you whores mad love from your favourite bad ass kiwi blogger.

Peace & love

P.S I would pick the fleas from your anus, but only if'it's clean & their no bum pube cobwebs. I don't want to have to dig for it.

Joy to the world. The rain has come. And so it seems have I.

This time of year, no one really hears much from me.When I'm not up to my asshole with 'bullshit to do' at work, I am drowning in it at home. I get tired & cranky & by the time I get a few days off over Christmas, I'm exhausted. Cry me a river Becky. Jeeze.

Speaking of rivers, we had a fuck tonne of rain last week. Something in the ball park of 750mm over the region in 48 hours. Now my seaside city is the sunshine capital of NZ. Officially. And we never ever get rain like that. Go figure.

As you can imagine much wrath of shit ensued. Hills & boulders the size of cars were coming down all over the show, rivers broke their banks, roads were closed, people lost power/phone & just got straight up cut off from civilisation, people ended up with their backyards inside their lounge rooms & around 300 homes have been red stickered 'inhabitable' by the GeoTech folk.

We don't have the infrastructure to cope with a torrential downpour like that. And the devastation it's caused is insane. However the blessing in all of the carnage is that no one got hurt. You can replace a house, but you can't replace a human life. Amen.

Nothing says 'fuck my life' more than a giant mountain shit 

busting through your back door.

I had decided that if the flooding extended down to the marina where I live, I was finally going to live out my lifelong badass pirate dream & steal me one of the million dollar boats sitting right in front of my house. But sadly it never came to that. Still, it never hurts to have a game plan.

Hubs has returned from his African adventure. And he bought me some rad gifts. This loot included a pair of smurf pyjamas that are about 7 sizes too small. He obviously has a distorted estimation of just how gigantic my back end is because he was WAY off. I will fit them one day though. If I can get in a time machine & go back to when I was 3. Or alternatively I can give them to my unborn daughter on her 8th birthday. They are that small.

He also bought me a Karma Sutra book. As a joke. Although when most people claim it's 'just a joke', usually they aren't joking at all. This is a life lesson I have learnt ten fold. Lets just say that this is part of the reason why I am so frigging tried today. Sweet Jesus, nothing like 2 weeks apart to rev up the bang life. Right on son!!

Also my husband has decided to dabble in massage. Erotic massage. He even bought a book on it. That's dedication yo & I am all for that show! Since his return I have been receiving nightly stroke me nicely massages. Lucky doesn't even begin to describe how I feel right now. Lucky & stupid muthafucking tired.

This book right here. Booyah.

I also got a beautiful African hand beaded necklace which I will never wear. Because those African ladies have small necks. My neck resembles an oompa loompa's in comparison. And if the .000001mm thick string the thousands of beads are threaded on to happens to break, it's god dam rainbow beads scattered from asshole to breakfast time.

When we were on our honeymoon last year I bought this beautiful wall hanging thing made out of millions of tiny beads. It was a piece of art work that I hung proudly on my hallway wall. Anyway the bitch broke a couple of days later & one year on I am still finding beads everywhere. And we've moved house twice since then.

I got monstrous bottle of Amarula Cream, & a box of cream caramels (a south African treat I would sell my whole family for), a couple of g-strings (also a 'joke' present apparently), a new Billabong Hoody, Weeds Season 1 on Bluray & a soft toy giraffe. The man did good. Real good.

So what once was a quiet, tidy & organised apartment has now returned to it's former pre South Africa visit state of undies/socks laying on the lounge chair, pube hairs scattered like magic fairy dust throughout the bathroom (& facial hair shaving), constant dishes in the sink & the little beaver like piles of shit (not actual shit) throughout the house. But I love him. And I'm so happy he's home. I love coming home to my manimal. A manimal who will willingly massage my ass cheeks for a whole hour. Whoop!

5 more sleeps til not real Santa comes. I'm looking forward to a sleep in, eating more food than is normal for one person to consume in a 24 hour period, AND spending time with the people I love who haven't buggered off down the sounds/South Africa or Wales.

With Christmas day quickly looming, what are all you whores up to?

For those of you that aren't aware the giveaway for this month is this kick ass knuckleduster coffee mug. Nothing says 'I hate your face' more than drinking your morning cuppa love out of this bad boy.

 I have 2 to giveaway. You know what you got to do. If you don't read here. 

Peace, love & achy hump muscles,

Hatin' On: Christmas shopping

I know you're thinkin how could I possibly top my last epic singing video post. Fact is I can't. I was thinking about showing you my naked breakdancing skills. But I won't do that. However, you should know that I am busy planning my 'Best Bits of Bexstar:2011' video. And there will be another song. I'm not a one hit show pony.

Ok so I hate people. I hate angry crazy shopping people. And at the ass end of the year when the retail stores start putting up their copious glitteraty bullshit Xmas decorations & begin cranking on high rotate stab-my-ears-til-they-bleed-sadness Christmas music, I stay the fuck home cos I don't want no part of that shit show.

Suddenly gone are the days of excuse me, please & thank yous, instead replaced with crazy eyed desperate ho's & their hypo asshole crotchlets ramming their trolleys in to the back of innocent victims knees, smack down slappathons for car parks & normally nice ordinary people turning into feral salivating I'ma gon ravage you if you get up in my bizness pitbull shoppers.

BULLSHIT. No thank you.

I don't handle chaos well. I start sweating from all orifices, angry rage bile starts to rise up my gullet & my right leg starts lashing out with a short sharp fuck kick to the vulva of whoever gets within a metre of my circle of trust. I don't even make it do that on purpose, it just does it all by itself.

Blake refuses to take to me Xmas shopping. Because he says that one day he is going to get his ass beat because of me kicking strangers & yelling obscenities out the car window. I will even kick children. Specifically ones that are unnecessarily misbehaving. I am that crazy. I am this crazy. I want to eat peoples fucking faces off & I don't even need utensils.


So I've discovered something amazing. It's actually something I do all the time yet strangely at Xmas time I forget that I can do this. This thing is called ONLINE MUTHAFUCKING SHOPPING. Every single Xmas present I have bought online. Easy. Done. Fini. No one is left bleeding or with an exposed shattered femur from me judo kicking the shit out of their leg.

I worked in retail for a few years. I blame it completely for turning me in to a rabid people hater. I managed a music store in the local mall & while my staff did most of the work, I shut myself away in the storeroom & ate chocolates. You wouldn't find no Christmas carols being rocked out in my store. Hell to the no bitches. I had to hear that shit every other store I went in to, I wanted to give peoples ears a break. And they thanked me for that. Maybe not openly but I could tell they loved me for it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about Christmas & what it means to me. Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jebus. Yet I'm not religious. So Christmas to me is about spending time with family & friends, consuming a fuck tonne of food/alcohol, not having to work (Holla!), beaching myself the nearest available pool, getting gifted some loot & being thankful for everything in my life that's good.

There are many that go without, because they don't have a choice. And it wrecks me. I wish I could fly all the little African orphans to my pad for a few days to love & nourish them. But I can't do that.

Instead I have bought an array of small gifts to give to the Salvation Army for all those little kids that won't have any sort of Christmas at all. I did the same thing last year. And I've just phoned the local city mission to see if I can help out for the annual Mayors Christmas dinner. Every year the cities smelly bin diving AIDS hobos, abandoned pee pee Nana's & non straight jacketed mental health patients get together & have a mean feed with the Mayor. Plus our Mayor is hot yo. And Italian. I want in. Failing that it's got to be entertaining right? It won't solve all the worlds problems, but it's something I can give.

Moving along, for those that have the unfortunate task of buying for me this year or just straight up want to hook me up with some booty because I'm too god dam awesome, I thought I would give them a heads up by informing them of some of the things I would like. It's vital that they get this shit right.

Just think of how rad my video blogs will be if I'm wearing this. 

Hours of fun!!! I plan on wild striding, while neighing, past strangers open windows.

I like owls. And I like cooking. So I want this.

 I'd really love me a gun pendant necklace. Bang bang. 

However this banger is tres expensive. Le sigh.

A guitar shaped spatula. Rock on.

Diesel Loverdose perfume.
Cos it's important that a ho smells nice.

 

 I want Weeds. The whole series. On DVD.

Because this show makes me hose.

A spensive sexy dress from my fave ho clothes store, City Chic.

And I would really really really like this VW Combi Tent.
Because it's so dam cool. But sadly Blake said no. Boo

A selection of fake moustaches. For disguise purposes when
I get all high on aloneness & sing on the Internet..
Although my homemade pen moustache was the bomb.

A bottle of Cachaca. So I can make me some Cariprinahs on Christmas Day
& completely maggoted. Which in turn may help my husband can get some sex.

Lastly, for Christmas this year I would like a pash. From my Internet boyfriends, funny fucker Shane at Wag the Dad and/or the silver tongued gangsta rapper Social Assassin himself, Mr Crew. With a no tongue though. **Blake doesn't mind. Aslong as there's no dick touching. So I'm like hey hookers, right on then.

** Blake probably does mind but seeing as he is currently away as I am writing this post, I will speak on his behalf. However, both of these dudes  are married & their wives would probably cut a bitch if I tried to get all up on their fullas.Under normal circumstances I would probably have a crack anyway, but seeing as I like their wives, I'll keep my whore hands off. Boo. A bitch can only dream.

What I really want for Christmas this year is for another year of waking up breathing every day, the ability to keep laughing at myself, to not get arrested for anything & many healthy bowel movements.

Blake's home on Saturday (2 weeks went really fast?) & we are going to erect (hehe) our little 40cm led light Xmas tree. I have no time for christmas trees but it would be rude of me to not atleast try & get in to it.

I keep my Christmas joy on the inside. I don't feel the need to vandalise my house with **gay.

**Please note NOT the homosexual kinda gay. Cos I love me some gays.

Are you a Christmas hater or does the mere sight of tinsel & smell of a real pine xmas trees give you a fizzy bunghole? What does Christmas mean to you?

PEACE!.

P.S I have never kicked a child on purpose. You should know that.

Dear Johi. You made my bung fizz.

Dear Johi.

How are you? I am good.

Today my mum left for Wales for a couple of months & I cried. It was raining all day & I was a bit sad because I have no car while Blake is away so I have to walk everywhere. And I don't like getting my chucks wet. Soggy feet doesn't feel nice.

But then I watched your video (go here & watch her awesomeness yourself) & I cried again. Except this time happy bitch tears, because you love me & I love you. And it's summer here so no snow at Christmas time for this hooker. FYI.

I got sunburnt in the weekend. On my boob. On the tops of my knees. And my hands. And my forehead. At least I didn't sunburn my vagina. Just saying.

I went to my step brothers wedding. We arrived late to the ceremony (just after the bride had walked up the aisle) because the fairlane Cadillac we were gangsta trippin in shat itself. While we sat & waited for The Bev (my sisters father in law) to bring us a new battery, the sun raped me.

At the reception my sister & I got ratarsed on champagne. And then something glorious happened. We had a simultaneous urge to poo. So we farted & bum clenched while trying to walk in our monster lady heels to some toilets far away from the marquee where the reception was. Because we have excellent manners, we also text our mum  to tell her we were going to take a poo together.

This probably reminded her of one time when we were 4 & 5 & decided to share the toilet & pee at the same time. Mum busted us both sitting on the toilet swapping chewing gum. It got stuck in our hair. We got growled at.

Anyway we both Hiroshimaed in separate cubicles. There was much crying laughing as the sounds of turds hitting water echoed within that bathroom. I laughed so hard some pee came out which is lucky I was already sitting on the toilet. My sister is fun. I love hanging out with her.

Ok so Johi I made you a video. And I didn't want to upload it because well I am quite shy. But I'm sucking the fuck & putting it up anyway. Don't judge me.

Before you watch it I must advise that you please don't have your sound right up. And please lock your children back in the cupboard with a packet of biscuits, a blanket & a bucket. There is swearing in this.

Also if you need my kiwi accent translated, email me. I can supply a translated script.

Also I don't have AIDS. The light in my lounge is not good.

This is also quite long because I am a fame hungry whore.

Oh & my Winner Wednesday prize for the month of December is this.

A GIANT KNUCKLEDUSTER COFFEE MUG. Every bad ass should have one.

I don't even drink coffee, but I have one of these. Because I'm bad ass. The end.

If you want to win this for yourself follow my blog, & comment your ass off. Because it's xmas, I am giving away two. Huzzah!

Peace, love & badly penned facial hair,

Your Becky

P.S To those that have hurt feelings because I didn't give you a shout out in my video, don't be sad, I was ad libbing & cut a major mind blank. In order to make up for my retarded brain I will give you written snaps instead.

I love Jody the bus driving man hooker, Dan P (Holla!), Rachelle, Chubbs, Misty, Zionstar, Mrs Bitch, Margeritta, Pappatigga (bitch you still need to hook me up with your address), all of you people that visit me at the internet house of B give me special fanny tingles. Just not the goodtime ones because those a reserved for my shit nugget.

My great love story & why my hooker is leaving me unsupervised for 2 whole weeks.

Right so some major shit has happened in the last few days. Apart from me having 4 solid poos in one day (y'all would think I'd have nothing left after last Thursdays explosions. Seems not), Blake's Nana in South Africa died. Both situations equally sad & confusing.

On Sunday we also had my family Xmas. Yeah I know a whole month early but next week my Ma & step Pa are buggering off to Wales/Scotland for 2 months & my sister & her family are heading away to their holiday home so we be on our own for Xmas this year. And this Saturday my step-bro is getting hitched so him & his nearly wife are here from Perth for their wedding. So we had Xmas on Sunday. Early.

I feel like I just wrote a round about circle poem. Doth such poem exist? Well it fucking does now.

Anyway I got some pretty rad loot. As usual. My mum is an epic gift buyer. We had a BBQ. I love my NZ Christmas. I spent one Xmas in Scotland in -13 degree snowing bullshit weather & I nearly died. However I had the BEST time & I drunk a fuck tonne of alcohol. Which is possibly what stopped me from dying of the bitch fuck cold.

Last year when Blake & I went on our honeymoon to South Africa, I got the chance to meet his dear sweet Nana. We stayed with her in Durban for a few days in her little flat. During that time her & I talked a lot about life stuff, & I loved hearing her stories about growing up on the family farm, teaching Geography & her deep unconditional love for her family. We bonded & I feel grateful that I got that special time with her.

You can't beat an African sunset.

 I took this photo of a chipper on his treadly when we were daring the

pot holed to buggery back roads between Johannesburg & Dundee. Simple life.

I got upset when we had to say goodbye to her. I don't have any living Grandparents anymore & I get attached to old people quickly. I was deeply sad for my husband because I know what its like to say goodbye to your Grandparents not knowing if you will ever see them again. She stood on her porch & waved us farewell until we had disappeared out of sight.

My mother in law Bridget, or Bibs as I fondly call her, is one of the most gorgeous people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not many people can say that about their mother in-laws without it being a bare assed lie. But I love the shit out of this woman. Her & I are tres close. We have been ever since Blake & I became friends all those years ago. She travels to SA once a year to see her family & spend time with her mum. And she only arrived back in to NZ on Monday last week after spending a month in Durban with her mum.

Blake & I had dinner with her on Saturday night & listened to her speak with tears in her eyes of her heavy heart at leaving her mum behind again. The next morning she gets a phone call from her beloved homeland with the sad news that Granny had passed away. 85 years on the earth & what an amazing life she had.

As you would expect, my Bibs is devastated. Her father passed away 3 years ago around the same time. Now she has to go home & bury her mother.

I can't comprehend what it feels like to lose a parent. I have lost a step parent, & I still grieve for him now. Sadly the circle of life doesn't allow for one person to live forever. I wish we could, but our time on earth is borrowed. Blake's Granny had a good innings. It still doesn't make it any less sad.

So on Friday, my hubs, his siblings & Bibs are flying out to South Africa for 2 weeks to bury their Gran. They have to pack up all her belongings, attend her funeral & scatter her ashes. It's not a holiday. But the one ray of sunshine in all this is that they will get to be together. The whole family. The first time in a very long time.

I am staying home on my own for 2 weeks. And I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself.

You know how people say they married their best friend? People who stay stuff like that are normally the kind of people I mentally punch in the face. Shit like that is so smarm it makes me yak in my mouth. Ironically, I find myself saying this very same thing. All. The. Time. Mainly because I did in fact, marry my best friend.

Like curious dogs when they first meet, Blake & I spent 3 years sniffing each others anuses. We travelled together, spent all our free time together, & never once did I ever look at him as anything more than a just a friend. For reals.

He was my best mate.

He was the one who would make sure I'd get home at the end of the night on the razz when I couldn't walk because I was too ratarsed & lost my shoes.

He was the one who would pick me up at 6am in the morning because I fell down some stairs & broke my foot. Sober. Then he lent me his PSP, bought me a Sims game (the only game I know how to play) & chocolates while I was holed up with a busted foot for a few weeks.

He was the one that would send me $100 when I was a broke ass uni student living in Auckland because I couldn't afford to buy any food.

He was the one that would laugh loudly & snort beer out his nose when I text him & told him I'd blocked a toilet at Heathrow Airport on my way back from Scotland.

He was the one who would quietly weep every time he had to drop me back at the airport after I'd been home for holidays.

He loved me & I never knew.

Until one night when I was home from Uni for summer holidays, we got drunk & he threw a glass fruit bowl at my head (accidentally he says) then told me he was in love with me. First I laughed & spewed forth a plethora of nasty swear words. I was nervous that he was actually straight up cray cray & was going to cut a bitch up with the broken fruit bowl glass. Then we talked. For hours. I kept saying over & over that I never thought of him in a romantic way & I didn't know if I could be with him 'like that' because I just didn't see myself jumping his bones. It'd be like having relations with my brother.

Then he did something that to this day is stuck in the front of my memory. He brushed my hair out of my eyes & told me that I was his 'one'. This muthafucka was getting all Don Juan on my ass but dam it felt so weird good.

Once I let myself, I fell the fuck in love with him. Hard.

Fast foward 4 years down the track & we've nearly been married for 2 years. We've suffered some tragedys together (specifically a nasty miscarriage which was a HUGE test of our love for each other). And when I'm apart from him, I don't feel like me. Which brings me to the purpose of this post today.

Firstly, I am a very lucky bitch.

Secondly, I'm going to miss him like a scrotless cat at a pussy party. I know it's only 2 weeks, cry me a fucking river.

But I lose my shit when he isn't around to stroke me nicely. I'm a firey whore. He's about as laid back as you can get without constantly lying down & he has this way of soothing my angry inner beast.

So baby if you are reading this, & upon your return discover that I've been arrested for arson & shanking a few bitches, it's totally your fault. I shouldn't be left unattended. Be safe & come back to me in one piece please. I will lend you my elite judo chopping skills just in case some drugged up gangsta trys to mug you or cap you for your ipod & shoes.

And please stay away from the rabies monkeys. My immune system is still recovering from the ass raping firey lava bum/projectile honk bug I got last week. Enjoy the time with your family & please hug the snot out of them all for me.

It's going to be a long 2 weeks.

Me & my puss bags up Table Mountain, Cape Town.

Have any of you got a great love story? How did you meet the love of your life?

So as today is the first of December in my part of the world, it means it's time to announce the winner of Novembers Winner Wednesday prize. 

Pappatigga, my very funny gangsta brotha, please flick me an email to bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your address & I'll get poos & wees out to you.

Thanks to everyone who commented. Seriously the comments sometimes have me pissing my undergarments. Yous fullas a hilarious yo! And welcome to the new readers. I'm a good time. You will not be disappointed.


Peace & sloppy clumsy love,

P.S Rest in peace Granny x

Reemed.

I have been quiet this week. In Blogland atleast. If you had been living in my house you would know first hand that I have in fact not been quiet at all. Due to the fact that some infected bastard kindly passed a nasty stomach bug on to me, in turn causing me to shit & vomit 3kg of my body contents down the toilet.

I god dam mastered the art of duo orifice explosion. It all began on Thursday morning.........

About 10 minutes before my alarm was due to go off, my body woke me up. I had a wanky gut ache & the alarm bells started to holla at a bitch that if she didn't hot foot it to the lav quick smart she was gonna shit the bed. I made it just in time. And it gave me a fright because although my bowels have at times been unpredictable, I don't get bugs.

I decided that it was only a minor case of the shits so I may as well go to work. Cue onslaught of violent diarrhoea. In between showering, putting my outside face on, getting dressed ecetera. Finally making it out of the door on time, with a typical kiwi attitude (she'll be right mate) in tow.

I get to work & explode once more. This was going to be a long ass day. Except this time I was starting to feel a bit vommy too. Fuck it.

I ring my boss & give him the heads up. Basically telling him that I would prefer to shame myself within the walls of my own home as the idea of exploding out my back end while power yakking out my face at work didn't really seem like a fun time. He agreed & said I could go on home.

I had to get a taxi home because Blake was working & couldn't come get me.

I carefully placed my sick body inside a taxi & made it clear to the driver that I get home quick smart. I was afraid yo. I didn't know how long I had until I blew again.

About 200 metres from my house, my mouth started to water & I felt my breath quicken, beads of sweat appeared on my forehead & that old familiar, I is gona yak feeling, was a rising on up my esophageal pipe. Fuck. A. Bitch. I was about to spew (& more than likely shit my pants) in a taxi.

I turned to the driver with my hand over my mouth & said to him, 'I'm about to throw some money in your face & run like the wind. You don't want me in your car'. By this stage we'd made it to the forecourt of the motel where I live & I did just that. I threw money at him & bolted. Ass cheeks clenched like my life depended on it, hand over mouth, running like a muthafucka across the courtyard while curious guests watched on.

As I got closer to our apartment I could hear the shower running. Fuck. Blake was in the shower.

Before I go on, I need you to know something. For as long as we've know each other, Blake & I have never dropped a grogan while the other has been in the bathroom doing something else. Blake won't have any of it. If I need to shit while he's in the shower. I wait. If I need to pee, not a problem. But he draws the line at poo. I have always respected this request. Even though there have been times when I desperately needed to disrespect it.

I roar inside at a hundred miles an hour, remove my cardi & shoes (I have no idea why I did that?), rip open the bathroom door & screamed at Blake 'GET OUT OF THE SHOWER NOW, I AM GOING TO SHIT MYSELF!!!!!'.

To which he replied 'Baby just do it'.

And then me, in an absolute blind panic, 'I'M GOING TO SPEW AS WELL!!!!'.

With that he was out of the shower, wet & soapy, adjourning to the safety of the lounge. Me, I was de-troued, slamming my ass down onto the toilet & emptying the contents out of the small plastic rubbish bin ready to catch what was about to come up my gullet. And boy did I go off. It was bloody horrible!!

Blake bravely poked his head in the door after everything subsided to see if I was ok. He said I looked so sad sitting there on the toilet with my pants on the ground & mascara smeared all around my eyes. He also said it sounded like a demon was trying to invade my body with all the noise that was coming from the bathroom. I was fucking sad yo. I hadn't had a stomach bug in 15 years..

I take great pride in making snide remarks at basically all my friends who have kids that always seems to be sick with the latest stomach bug doing the rounds. Blake & I never get bugs. Well that was up until now.

The shit/yak fest continued on for another 6 hours. By 3pm I was angry, exhausted & 3kg lighter (Hurrah!). Then I slept for about 15 hours. I was so friggin hot. You could have fried a dozen eggs on my gluteus maximus. Blake kept checking on me to make sure I was still conscious.

I woke up when my alarm went off yesterday morning & decided seeing as I hadn't shat or vomited in a while I would be fine to go to work. I mean I sit at an office desk all day long. How hard could that be?

Very fucking hard, I clearly sucked at life yesterday. I spent majority of the day with my head on my desk. I felt like a washed out old rag. No energy, & I had a crankin headache. I think with all the vomming I must have busted a couple of blood vessels in my head cos god dam I couldn't shake it. My stomach gurgled loudly & angrily ALL day. I wanted to feed it but I was too afraid of what might happen if I did.

Fast forward to Saturday morning & I feel remarkably better. But still a little bit off. I am sitting up on the couch watching the food Network channel in my PJ's & I'm a bit mad at myself because I just bought a Shark Steam Cleaner off shopping channel. Fuck me, seriously. Their infomercial won me over. And if this bitch actually does what it claims to then I will be happy & less guilty for spending a weeks wages.

Blake hasn't got the bug yet but he is going to shit himself when he finds out I just bought this. Boo. However, when he does go apeshit & does the 'disappointed in my rebellious wife' face, I have saved the link for the website so he can read the product reviews. People are lovin' this machine. Plus we won't need any cleaning chemicals in our house anymore which appeals to our inner hippies son! And at least I didn't buy an actual Shark.

So while you were all having your Thanksgiving celebrations, or my fellow Ho's from this side of the world were just nailing an average Thursday, I was giving thanks to soft toilet paper & a husband that still loves me when clearly my body had chucked this shitshow in. Oh & I am thankful for my Shark Steam Pocket that will soon be arriving at my house.

I

Thanksgiving or not, what are you thankful for today?

Peace & fizzy bung holes,

P.S Mike someone, my lovely personal trainer, rang me on Thursday night to ask me where I was & why I hadn't been to the gym. Much to his disgust I proceeded to tell him exactly why I'd been a no show & he happily accepted the excuse. I love not having to lie to him!!

P.P.S As of 8:35am Saturday morning I am still 3kgs lighter. Awesome!!



Hatin' On: Bare Naked Beaves

I've never quite got the allure of a fully shaven bagina. This may be down to the fact that I am not a lesbian, a man or have a penchant for getting all up in a lady's beave when I'm drunk & confused, aka bi-sexual. Nothing against the lady lovers. I have gay friends & I love the shit out of them regardless of their sexual preference. One love people!!

In fact, the only first hand experience I've had with another lady's cootch (apart from thoroughly enjoying accidentally watching the odd banger movie) is a day in my early 20's aptly titled  'Face full of Fanny'. This particular day my sister, a good friend & I were sitting on the porch of our flat smoking cigarettes. In the excitement of the nicotine party, my friend accidentally knocked the flaming ash end of her fag down her crotchal region. Cue legs flailing in the air & much box punching. (her punching her own box, I wasn't going near it).

It was during this frenzy that I got a face full of her burning kooka. She had decided not to wear underwear that day. Big ups. It's hotter than hedes here in summer & no one likes a sweaty minge. Anyway I laughed until I'd half pissed my pants. Afterwards we all sat in silence, sans eye contact, in mild shock, not quite sure what we'd just witnessed but the mental image ingrained in our minds for eternity. No one has ever spoken about it but to this date one of the funniest & most disturbing things I have ever seen.

Y'all should know that no piss muffins were injured on that day. Only minor burnage which I guess, in the area in question, is not pleasant. Since she now has a child one can only assume her poon is fully functioning & didn't suffer any long term damage.

Moving right along, to reiterate, I don't understand the fascination with bald completely hair free fanny's. Me, I keep mine maintained  because it feels cleaner. But I can't bring myself to be completely bald. I have done it a few times at the request of past loves, then immediately regretted it afterwards. For these reasons.

• It itches like fuck. Now I suffer from eczema in the creases of my groin so I'ma scratching that shit all the time anyway. Add in a freshly shaved banger & sweet Jesus I go to town. It ends up looking all red & angry which in turn does not excite the bare fanny requestee anyway so what is the god dam point.
• Box waxing hurts. I don't know this first hand because I've never had it done. I'm lucky that my muff bush city limits is not overly hairy anyway. Much to my beauty therapist sisters disgust. There ain't no way any ripping of pubi is happening in my world. I refuse to pay for pain unless it's permanent.
• The last time my muff was completely & naturally hair free was when I was 11. To me personally, a man wanting to cock punch a hairless beave is all kinds of messed up. On the few occasions I have been hairless, I couldn't look down there. It confused me. My poontang was 11 again, but the rest of me was still 22? Nothing matched & it frightened me.
• If you have sensitive skin, it can get spotty down there. It ain't pretty & I ain't talking the herps here, I'm talking ingrown hairs/mound acne. These bastards flare up like your vulv has contracted the pox all by itself. Bad bad BAD.
• The feeling of a freshly de-haired wiki rubbing against the crotch of your pants is to date the weirdest sensation I have ever experienced. While not totally unpleasant, it is cold & feels like it's being lovingly caressed by a silk pillow case. Most would think wow this must be nice, not me yo. I thinks it feels like bullshit.
• Chaffe. When the hair starts growing back, & you're grinding up on your cock monster, chaffe can happen. To him. While this isn't a bad thing for the lady, he feels like he's been manscaped by a sanding machine. Ouchy!!! On the other hand, if we're expected to bust small people out our lobes then MAN up muthafucka. A little bit of pubis chaffe ain't got nothing on a 4-way torn perineum.
• It makes everything look bigger down there when there's absence of fuzz. And I sure as shit don't like having big clanger meat shanks hanging out all over the show. This works in the mans favour when he has been de-haired, but certainly not ours.

If I came face to face with someones bare growler I would cry. Big honking afraid tears. It would be akin to having a face off with an angry baby taco.

In the olden days, sporting a muffro was the epitome of femininity. If you had an au naturel hairy goblet, the boys would all be fizzing at the bung to come to your yard. What's changed? Are the generations becoming fussier? Does the idea of an out of control Bear Trappers Hat no longer appeal? Yes it may be visually offensive but dang it still does what it's meant to.

I remember when I was a kid, accidentally (I was looking for stashed Christmas presents ok) finding a 'Joy of Sex' book in my parents bedroom. I didn't know what the fuck it was all about but I was both amazed & impressed at the 70's lady bush nearly jumping out of the book & suffocating my young face. When did it get untrendy?

I asked my husband what he thought about bare naked beaves. He said, he's not too bothered although he does like not having to dig through the bush scrub to get to the good stuff. A trimmed gon is cleaner & more presentable (like it's a god dam business propsal). Apparently. He seems quite satisfied with mine. WIN!

He also asked me why some girls smell fishy. Eau de Tuna if you please. I had to explain.

FYI - That's a god dam vag illness called Vaginitis!! You can't judge us, men folk. The Vagine does what it does. It has a mind of it's own & it's a sensitive crevasse. You wash your undies in new cheap washing powder & BOOM, you gots a nasty case of fish pants. You eat antibiotics like M&M's & BOOM, your beave goes feral on you & you end up with an intense external/internal itch so ferocious you consider chopping it out of your own body.

This young lady is displaying what I like to call 'Candida Face'.

So to you all, cornholers & beave monsters, to be fur free or hippy that shit up?. That is the question. What say you people of the universe?

I hope you enjoyed being revolted by a filthy mind. My pleasure.


Peace, love & hairy bangers

P.S Mum you better still love me. I can't control this. It's bigger than both of us.

FYI - Where Bogies Go.

WARNING: If you can't handle anything bogey related, please don't read this.You will also notice my inconsistency of spelling the word bogey. I'm not even embarrassed. I like to mix it up.

The other night, after my hubs had been standing at the door for 10 minutes having a conversation with one of the receptionists at the motel, he came back & sat beside me on the couch. Ooh exciting. But wait, there's more.....

I then kindly pointed out to him that he had an massive boog clanger attempting to abseil out the side of his left nostril. Quite large & impossible for an innocent bystander to not notice. He naturally rubbed his nose while saying 'shit do you think it was there the whole time I was talking to her?'. To which I replied, 'Yes. Yes I believe it was'. FAIL!! Then I did a my in your face fail dance. With pointy jazz fingers.

Anyway with naughty stray bogey safely restrained & hidden from my sight** on his finger, (he didn't know I was watching this by the way. He doesn't know that I can actually watch Amazing Race & watch what he's doing right beside me at the SAME TIME. I have incredible observation skills) I watched him lean forward & wipe it (I am not fucking lying right now) on the bottom of our couch like it was a piece of well chewed chuddy gum being hidden under the school desk.

**I can handle pretty much anything, except bogey. I remember once when I was about 11, a girl in my class was sitting beside me on the bus on our way to cooking/woodwork class (I went to a country school. We had to head to the big city for that shit). Anyway she had her finger buried deeply in her face canal & pulled out the biggest honking booger I have ever seen. I took one look at it & projectile yakked all over her lap. And I didn't even feel bad. Bad things happen when you behave like a dirty whore. The end.

Anyway back to the story, I turned to him & said 'what in the fuck did you just do with that bogey!!!?'.

'Um...... (sheepishly)....nothing' *hanging his head in shame because he knows I just busted him defiling our spensive lounge suite with his clanger.

'No way!! Bogie's DO NOT go there!!!'

'Well I didn't have anywhere else to put it'.......*me holding up the box of tissues on the coffee table not 30cm away from the both of us.

I then carried on with my angry tirade telling him that that is something a 3 year old boy would do & while he's at it why doesn't he go take a shit in the corner of the lounge on the carpet. He sat there looking really bummed out. I felt bad but I was so pissed.

Now my husband always has a reason for everything he does that I don't like. I gotta give him credit, he is the master of ad-libing bullshit excuses. He tried to tell me that he panicked because he had nothing to wipe it on & that I apparently I wipe my bogeys on things all the time. Like the car door. I agreed yes I have in the past but I always make sure I wipe it on the outside of the car door so the wind speed velocity can remove it while the car is in motion. AND if that doesn't work, the rain will get it.

He can teabag me til I have bruises on my face & fart on my leg in bed as much as he likes but I draw the line at wiping bogeys on the furniture.

So I went & bought about 5 boxes of tissues. To add to the 3 I already have scattered around the house, & I muthafucking labelled them, just in case he gets confused. Something like this......

Bitch please, you can't beat me at this game.

I also labelled a whole heap of things around the house where he is not allowed to put his snot. But he removed them because he was annoyed. Anyway I put one on the couch (obviously), my pillow, the TV, my guitar, our bathroom towels, my laptop & basically anything that is mine.

I did however label some other things that he can put bogeys on that aren't tissues. Like his xbox, his PC, his ipod, playstation, Anime collection & just to prove how serious I am about all this & drive the message home, my badass sharp as fuck kitchen machete. Go there with your finger bogey Hooker & I will lovingly stick your hand in a blender.

When Blake & I were mates, pre-getting together, he used to drive an old White Mitsubishi. Aptly named 'old whitey'. Truth be told that old whitey got a battering from my bogie's. And I was very open about it. He was that much in love with me that he didn't even care that I constantly wiped my boogers all over his passenger seat & inside of the car door. I didn't have tissues & was fond of a good bore out on occasions. Whats a girl to do? Wipe it on the door. That's exactly what I did.

So when I went back to Uni at the end of every summer he had something to remember me by. I also told him that when I got famous he could sell his Becky car door bogie art on Ebay for a tidy sum. No one can say that I am a shithouse friend. Personal, original & thoughtful. BOOM.

I don't do that anymore. Because our car is exactly that. OUR car. Which means I own half bitches!!

One more thing before I go, next time you are sitting in a public toilet stall, scan the walls. I guarantee you will find someones boog there. I have never got why people wipe it on toilet doors when they have a roll of bog paper at their disposal? I have done some dirty things in toilet, many which I blog about on a regular basis, but I have NEVER planted a greenie on the wall. It makes me gag just thinking about it.

Does your other half/child/someone you live with do something that grosses your shit out?

Happy Friday, Thursday whatevs. It's Friday in my world, I got my new iPhone (which is making me fizz at the bung with love) & I'm catching up with some chicks in the weekend for cocktails. Goodtimes.

Peace!

P.S How do Astronauts poo in space? I've always wanted to know.
P.P.S Baby if you read this, I bloody love you. But please don't wipe snot on the couch again x

Excessive Consumption

Have you ever shat so hard & copiously that you couldn't possibly shit no more without busting an important aortic vessel?

No?

Well I have. But of course.

Some people I know got married on Saturday morning. I was both honoured & humbled to be asked to sing at their wedding ceremony. Friday eve they had their rehearsal which I had to attend so I knew where to stand when I got all Mariah up in here. It was at 5pm which is the time of day that I am so hungry I would skin, BBQ, & eat someones baby. So instead I ate some breath mints I had in my handbag. Desperate times! I convinced myself they would keep the ravenous hunger at bay for 45 minutes until I was free to leave the rehearsal.

In my wedding rehearsal boredom I read the mint storage vesicle & noticed the small print 'Excessive Consumption Causes Laxative Effect'. Ok cool. I'ma gon test this out & make sure they aren't lying to their consumers. Because one thing I hate more than being hungry, is people who lie about their product potentially making me excrete like an angry erupting volcano. So I ate 10 mints in a row. Badass I know.

Fast forward an hour later, after just finishing my dinner, my guts starts doing weird gurgling I'm gona shit myself kinda noises. And I run, like sprint to the lav where I just make it in time before I explode like a burst water mains. It made such a horrendous noise that it shook the walls of our tiny apartment. And I swore a loud & groany MUTHHHHHHHAAAAAAFUCKER as the laxative took effect on my bowels.

RIGHT ON!

Blake says I should get this hoody. It can be my poo sweatshirt.

I nearly died last on Friday night. 3 times. I lost about 5kg & spent more time in the bathroom than any other room in my house. Blake thought it was funny & disgusting & insisted I had a shower before getting into our bed in case I spread some of my angry fecal dust on our clean sheets. Not even brother love!!

He should know by now that I am very particular post poo cleaner & ALWAYS make sure no excess has been left on my undercarriage. Hence why I use baby wipes. So fresh!

I am also a Leo. Cats are famous for having the cleanest assholes in the universe. Except for my nieces cat Pixie. She normally has fecal remnants dangling from her back end every time she trys to up on me. And she gets all confused as to why I commit minor animal abuse by way of kicking when she gets all up in my business sticking her puckered cathole in my face. Hello Pixie?!! Your ass needs a cleaning!! Sort it out yo!!!!

I also do a 2 point bowl clean check. That would be checking the underside of the seat for stray splatters & making sure the bowl is skid free. It's a sign of respect for my husband & his auto-retch shit phobia. I only wish the men I work with would show the same sign of respect for me. This is never going to happen. But a bitch can only live in hope.

In summary, it seems that yes, when over consuming Eclipse breath mints as advised on the tin, you will indeed get yourself a mad dose of the runny bum lava. I don't recommend trying this yourself. I have done it for you (my pleasure) & can now confirm that the aren't bullshitting when they write that stuff.

This sugar free business is mean. We fattys stay clear of sugar laden things because it makes our bums fatter, & instead go for sugar free options. Sugar free options that make us shit our pants when we eat too much of it. Either way it's a bad fucking time.

 
Speaking of fat bums, I had my second personal training session with Mike someone today. I didn't feel like he was trying to kill me. In fact, I enjoyed it. Firstly he had me lay down in the gym mat on my back then hump the shit out of the air above me while he held a giant rubber band around my knees. It was weird & awesome & I wasn't even uncomfortable about how close he was to my sweaty bagina.

After that he got me on the leg press again. Easier than last week, shit yes!! Then he had me lay upside down on my front where I basically had to kick my own ass with my heels. This was weird & I commented on how I felt like I was waiting for a rectal examination because my gigantor ass was sticking right on up there a happy moon. He laughed. Loudly. I laughed too. Which made my bum flaps wobble. Which made us both laugh some more. It seems Mike someone can handle my funny. And my wobbly ass. He finds it entertaining.

We also talked about my goals. As well as the obvious weight loss & getting fit mish he's helping me with, I also told him that my ultimate goal is to kick a door off it's hinges. Once I can kick the fuck out of a door without breaking my femur, I know I've achieved greatness.

Til that day comes, I vow to keep on humping the air, kicking my own ass & laughing at my wobbly bits flopping around the place like they've dropped an E & are hey ho-ing it at a Ministry of Sound rave.

Has anyone ever tested the excessive consumption warning? Or am I just stupid on my own?

Peace!

Sorry for not reading the rules.

So you know that shit I was waffling on about the other day, Versatile Blog Award thingymajig? Well, it seems that I am meant to gush like a dirty whores banger about those that gifted me with the award.

I didn't do that. In all the jizzcitement I forgot. And I feel bad about it. Because the people that awarded me with the award are the muthaflippin bombdigz.

Before I go forth & start this grateful gush fest I would just like to update you on my broken situation. Yes I am still broken but I went to the gym yesterday anyway. And Mike someone, looking all cute & concerned, took me out the back & showed me how to grind all up on a foam roller. We got down on a mat & went to town on these things. First I watched him do it, then he watched me do it. It was filthy!!!

Apparently it was supposed to roll out my muscles that I'd busted. However just between you & me, grinding on the foam roller thing made my muscles feel like they were being hacked to shit with a machete. But because I'm so badass tough I sucked it up, moaned a bit to my inner self then went & got on the bike & rode me some 15kms just to prove to Mike someone that I am indeed a badass muthafucker, broken or not. He also doesn't have to know that the deadly pain I was experiencing made me piss in my pants a a little bit.

MIKE SOMEONE MADE ME DRY HUMP & RUB MY ASS MUSCLES

ALL OVER THIS. I WAS AWESOME.

Then I went home & pre-ordered the new iPhone 4S. Because I can. I'm tired of carrying around a cellphone, an iPod & my work mobile. And Blake's phone is slowly shitting itself. So being the glorified hand-me-down loving hobo he is, I suggested he take my 1 month old new phone & ipod & I get a new iPhone. And shoot me with a barrel of busted assholes, he said yes!! And I didn't even have to show him my growler. WIN!

Moving right along, my first awarder was my beautiful Canadian cosmic twin, Bonnie from Fat-Be-Gone. Not long after I started this blogging bizo, Bonnie & I found each other. This girl, is not only one of the coolest bitches I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know, but she also inspires me every day with her dedication to a better, healthier life. She's lost over 60lbs & still going hard. My weight loss is not something I talk about much. Mainly because I decided right at the start that I didn't want to have a weight loss orientated blog. It's my own private battle & I intend to keep it that way. (FYI - I have lost 17kg so far. Good effort).

Anyway my Bon, she is a machine. And beats me hands down for being dedicated to the cause. When I have moments of near give the fuck upness, it's her that keeps me keeping on. She is fly hot mama, badass, funny as hell & if I was going to knife fight anyone, I would definitely want to have this woman by my side. Blake & I have both agreed that we will definitely be visiting her, her equally kickass husband Dan & son Adam in the next few years.

My second award I received from the man himself, Pappatigga from Pappatiggathoughts. This guy is straight up gangsta. And cracks my shit up hard on a regular basis. One recent post in particular that made me hose was this one right here. Go on, read it. This baller matches me head to head in the blaspheme stakes. And that's one of the many reasons why I love his shit hard. Any man that can pick up his own dogs shit from a neighbours driveway with his hands (against his will of course. He only did it because he was being watched by said neighbours) has got me as a fan for life. This guy is the raddest maddest dopest fella I've met in a long while. Read his shiz, you will so not regret it.

Lastly hottie mama Zionstar, awarded me with my 3rd & final award. This pretty lady is such a sweetheart. She is a rad mama to a little boy child, a wife to a dude & is on her own personal mission to become one sexy assed be-atch after the birth of her son stole her former figure. She wants to have the body of a pin-up girl. Fair play to her!! Personally I already think she's smokin' but hey, we are all on our own journeys to that perfect physical version of ourselves. We all have our own rules & reasons. I wish her luck on her bettering self trip & will be waiting with baited breath for her updates.

Massive shout outs to you 3 peeps for your blog love. And sorry for not giving you the snaps you deserve when I should have. I am shithouse at reading rules. Obviously.

Coming up this week I'ma gona be hatin on something hard. But before I bust that one out I want y'all to tell me about something/someone/some dirty situation that's ripped your tits this week. Share your angry with me. Cos I want to wrap myself up in it like a hotdog.

Peace!