My Arch Nemesis

When I was young & my grandparents were still alive, we used to spend nearly every school holiday kickin it at their pad up in Bunnythorpe. Please don't let the name of their tiny town mislead you into thinking it's a cute place where bunnies live. This place was a shit hole. However, my grandparents lived there, & I loved them as much as I loved Barbie & Skittles (that was HEAPS) so I thought B-Thorpe was the bomb digz.

My Granny & Grandad lived in a small street with only about 7-8 houses. The neighbours directly to the left, also family members, had a corgi dog. For the purpose of this post we will call the corgi Barry because I can't remember it's name. Barry had a major attitude problem & whilst he portrayed a happy go lucky corgi dog, he was actually the devil himself covered in fur. I was shit-in-my-pants scared of this midget legged Barry especially when he bit the cats nose off.

What Barry kinda looked like.......



image source



But I thought he looked like this.........

Legend had it that Barry had anger management issues & used to frequently bite people if you got all up in his business or if you just happened to be near him when he had a bitch fit. So when I wanted to go outside & play I used to commando roll along the ground by the fence line so Barry wouldn't detect my presence. It didn't actually matter that he had legs that were about 3 inches high & couldn't actually see over the fence.

Before I even ventured out the back door I used to scan the perimeter of the yard by sticking my head out of the catdog flap that was the frequently used by my grandparents Siamese cat, Teba & Pekingese dog, Misty . If the coast was clear my sister & I would shimmy through the magic little door to Narnia & patrol the yard with a stick, Grandad's shovel, or whatever useful weapons we could get our hands on.
We were soldiers, protecting the land we loved from our arch enemy, Barry the nose biting corgi.

Unbeknown to either of us, Barry would always be asleep inside his house & he didn't care about us unless we were in his hood. I hated that dog with a passion. He never actually bit me, probably because he never got the opportunity. If Barry was out roaming the neighbourhood, I was inside watching his every move from the lounge window. If I was asked to go next door to Barry's house & get something, I would disappear like David Copperfield.

One summer I had to go over to Barry's house for a flower girl dress fitting. I wasn't having any of it but my mum insisted that I went. I decided that she was to be my bodyguard & if the dog decided to go ape shit, she would be first in line for a corgi bite. I spent the whole time at Barry's house trying not to have eye contact with him while he lay on the floor by one of the lounge chairs. I sat rigid & still like a piece of wood hoping that if I didn't move, breath or make a sound he wouldn't even notice I was there. It was the longest 5 minutes of my life. What made matters worse was the cat with no nose was loitering around as a constant reminder of what Barry's fury was capable of.

Later that day, within the safety of my grandparents house, I was watching Barry take a leisurely stroll around their back garden. He must have noticed the curtains moving & while he was mid doggy dump our eyes met. I gave him the bird & yelled 'fuck you Barry' out the window. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins & I felt so proud I'd gotten one over that stupid dog until I realised I had been busted cursing out the window by my Grandma & subsequently summoned to the kitchen for a telling off.

That one particular holiday when Barry bit the cats nose off, we returned home to find Dad had a surprise for us. A fucking corgi dog. This corgi was a pup & black/white & so cute you'd want to vomit. We called her Ebony. And she grew to be a friendly, if not a bit stupid, non biting corgi dog.

A few years later wonderful news came via the parents that Grandma & Grandad had sold their house & moved to another city. I rejoiced quietly that I would never have to see Barry again. He was the thorn in the side of my holiday happiness no more.

That dog will be dead now & even though I don't wish mean things on any animal or human, I hope some angry spirit cat bit his fucking nose off just to teach him a lesson.

Everyone had an animal they were shit scared of as a child.
Tell me about your arch nemesis.......I want to know you.
Not like a stalker though.

Becky truth for today: I like sharks. It's weird I know, but they fascinate me. One day when we go back to South Africa I am going to do a cage dive in Cape Town. I want to see a Great White. Failing that I will be happy to just watch from the side of a big boat.

I'm A Winner Wednesday - Week 1 winner is.........

Bec please flick me an email at bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your postal details so I can get you prize out to you.

Thanks everyone for entering!! You guys rock the party! But not like that annoying song where everyday I'm shufflin. Stay tuned for this weeks Wednesday post for another chance to win some cool pirate booty. In these times of economic struggle where people can't even afford to buy a block of cheese, free stuff is AWESOME.

For those that have no idea what the hell I am talking about, you missed the boat this week. It sailed, & you weren't on it. Every week I give something away. Read HERE for T&C's.

And if you don't know how to become a follower of my blog because the internet is a mystery to you, flick me an email at the address up there ^ & I'll give you some wise counsel.

Mad loves

Saturday Morning Shit List: May 28th

1: Little berry pips in smoothies. It's like having an entire colony of little ants dressed in armour rolling around my mouth. Blake says shut up & swallow. Typical man.

2: People who poo in my toilet. One of Blake's friends who will remain nameless, always takes a mud in our toilet. I get that people need to defecate, it's a natural bodily function, but my issue is that I feel like he saves it until he gets to our house especially to annoy me. I caught him sneaking off to the bog the other day & I growled at him & told him to go an use the communal toilet over by the office. When he asked why I said "because your shit annoys me".

3: My hair brush. What the fuck is the point of having a hair brush that you need to prune?
I literally have to get the scissors out & give it a haircut. Yeah I know, I need to get a new one.

4: The guy from the North Island of NZ got an air compressor accidentally rammed up his bung hole. Actually it pierced his left cheek but I will go with my interpretation. Much more interesting. It nearly killed him & he's now become world famous for being bum fucked & nearly blown up in front of his workmates. I am glad he survived though. If you don't know what I'm talking about then please click HERE, especially if you want to hear the proper grown up story. Very similar to mine of course.

5: Cooking porridge in the radiation machine (microwave). I have issues with this seemingly easy task. It explodes. Every time.

6: Bandana's. They are not cool. If anyone tells you otherwise they are lying to your face.

Bandana's are even less cool (yep that is possible) if you wear them like a sweat band.

The only time this would be deemed as even remotely ok is if you were trying to cover up a lobotomy scar or if you are supporting the childrens cancer foundation.

7: The NZ's Rugby Sevens Team. They aren't shit. They are 'the shit' for winning the World Seven's 2011 series. Good job sexy sexy men. See picture below...........HELLO!





8: Starving myself on weigh in day. In my fucked up fat person brain I have convinced myself that if I don't eat or drink much on the day I have my weigh in, it will work in my favour. The worst thing about this little ritual I have established is that my Weight Watchers meeting isn't until 5:30 PM. So I spend all day basically snorting crumbs. I never stay for the meetings after I've weighed in because I would probably start chewing on the arm of the person I am seated beside. It's for their safety that I do not loiter.

9: How all the chef's on the food network channel sound like they're having orgasms when they taste their own food. No modesty there. I never understood the arrogance personally but hey, who am I to judge. I laugh at my own blogs posts. FYI - This guy isn't actually a chef but I needed some visual enhancement of this shit list addition. I have no idea whats wrong with his face but we'll just roll with it anyway.

10: Wedgies on the Exercycle. When the gym is busy, & there's 3 dudes on spin bikes sitting behind you, it is not pleasant when your undies decide to ride so far up in to the canyon of your crack that it will take surgery to get it removed. This happened to me yesterday. I wasn't in a position to de-wedge myself so I just had to cycle on through the pain. My ass chews on my undies like it's in a competition.

11: Hair that strangles you in your sleep. My hair does this to me a lot. I think it's pissed off about the state of the hairbrush.

12: Twitter spammers. I have just started using Twitter. It's my new addiction. What baffles me is if I use the word 'fuck' (you know I do) in a sentence, then quicker than you can say I-like-dancing-to Beiber-with-my -tits-out-& rainbows-painted-on-my-ass-cheeks, I'm getting all these messages from people telling me to click a link & see hot sexy fucking. Um no I'm good thanks. Then I use the word 'weight loss' & it's like a tornado of weight loss spam hits my inbox. "get your ass sucked off here", "to sell your excess vagina flab on the black market click here" etc. It's so god dam annoying but I don't know how to make it stop *sob.

If you want to add me on Twitter.... @BexstarD, find me. But just so you know, I'm totally not interested in watching any hot sexy fucking so don't bother asking.

Bx

Becky truth for today: When I was a younger I used to show my affections for people by throwing things at their head. Like a gumboot, or a piece of tree bark, or a handful of gravel. If I ever do it to you, take it as a compliment. It means I want to be your friend.

Robocop, Jason & the clown that ruined me

When I was 7, my aunt, uncle, cousin Keiran & his mate (well call him 'some dude' because I can't remember his name) came down from Palmerston North to stay with us. While the adults went out on the Saturday night, my cousin Keiran & some dude were in charge of looking after my sister & I.
They decided to get Robocop out on video.

I hid behind one of our lounge chairs absolutely cracking giant shits in my pants while they watched this video. It terrorised me. When police officer Murphy who becomes Robocop gets shot to shit, a little bit of my childhood innocence died inside me. I was destroyed that human beings could be so mean. Then a little bit more died when the uber robot went apeshit in the conference room & mass slaughtered everyone. And one of the final scenes when the bad guy face plants into the barrel of acid then explodes when he gets hit by a car. Oh my fuck I have never forgotten that. I lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling trying to comprehend what I had just witnessed.

20+ years onwards & I still refuse to watch Robocop. Up until that moment in my life I thought the world was all about fairies & rainbows but that night, Robocop raped my brain.

No more fairies & rainbows :(

A few years later my parents bought a section, built a house & moved us out country. Our neighbours had two daughters our age. We used to get up to all sorts of naughty shit while our parents were at work in town.

It was at this time I was exposed to the world of Jason Voorhees & Friday the 13th. I know this is like 'E' grade horror compared to what you can watch now, but back then this shit was real to me. I used to build a base camp under my blankets every night waiting in vain for Jason in his ice hockey mask to come & cut me up. Having sleep overs outside in a tent was NOT an option. Not unless I could sleep with an axe.

And if I had to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, the whole house would be woken up by my little hairy legs powering like a muthafucker up the hall back to the safety off my blanket headquarters. Even the toughest soldiers need to wee.

Obviously Jason never came to get me.

Nor did the scary drain dwelling clown from IT with his mouth full of shark teeth.

Or The Blair Witch ( I seriously didn't know that was a made up story when I watched it).
I refused to go anywhere with trees or dense bush for about 2 years after watching that movie. Nor did I appreciate my boyfriend at the time leaving piles of sticks outside my bedroom door.

Some people get off on watching horror flicks. I'm not one of those people. I would rather shave my head with a blunt razor blade & swallow a container of full drawing pins. Spending the majority of a movie hiding behind a pillow with my fingers jammed in my ear holes is not a fun time.

What's your favourite scary movie?

I promise I won't miraculously appear n your house in a white mask & a machete ready to dance.


Bx


Becky truth for today: My sister got a trampoline spring hooked in behind her eyeball. What the fuck right? Those springs aren't small!! I was jealous because she got to wear a pirate patch for 2 weeks. I know this doesn't relate to me at all but to this day I am still impressed at the fucked upness of that injury. It's worthy of being shared.

I love you Jeremy

One programme that I have accidentally ended up watching this week is Jeremy Kyle.
Not on purpose. I just happen to have my ass glued to the couch & the TV on when it comes on every day.

I am one hundred percent positive that I am not the only one that wonders where the hell he finds the people that go on this show? Does his PR peeps stick an ad in the papers saying 'All dirty slutbag muppets with absolutely no morals (male/female) who want to make complete cocks of themselves on TV & be laughed at by people all over the world, please sign up here".

I have no idea what today's topic was because I got too frightened by this lady...........

Kellie has 15 children, likes to glue tarantula legs to her eyelashes & has a masters degree in blow jobs.

I also really had no idea what Kellie's beef was but it had something to do with a dude that I believe once stuck his pee pee in her fanny bags. Kellie was piss mad. PISS MAD.

It was then that Kellie realized that she was actually sitting on the stage getting piss mad by herself. And that she had also left the house in her dirty grey Ugg boots that smelt like the anal leakage of a tom cat.

Kellie was so embarassed by the stench of her own Ugg boots that she chucked a wobbly & had to be forcibly removed by the Jeremy Kyle show security guys.

Once Kellie had calmed down Jeremy sat down with her for a heart to heart. He lay down the law JK styles.

Kellie's time in the spotlight was over before it began. She currently makes a living selling Tarantula leg glue-on eyelashes on Ebay & working as a spokesperson for the FAF, Foot Aids Foundation. She now only gives blow jobs on the weekend because it's ruining her teeth doing it full time.

......as interpreted by me one rainy Wednesday afternoon with the help of the camera on my ipod

Kellie was awful. Like really awful. Along with the sheer horror of her face, she had an orange tan & even though english is her one & only language, she didn't speak it very well. She made me feel hot. Even though I actually am. She just reinforced that fact.

I've decided to write a letter to Jeremy Kyle & tell him he needs to change the theme song for his show to something more fitting.I tried to find song called "The Ugly, fucked & stupid" but there's no such song. Listen & enjoy. Well watch it really because I can't figure out how to download a audio files yet.

If you haven't had the chance or just plain forgot, click HERE & read yesterdays post.

You could win a prize. You just have to become a follower of my blog & comment on yesterdays post.

Peace out!

Bx

Becky truth for today: Sometmes when I write my blogs I get scared because somewhere deep down inside me is a mentally insane person telling me to write this stuff. Plus my family really wants me to have a baby. How can I be responsible for a small human when I write blogs about foot aids & fanny bags?

Friday night fetish

When I was a little person I loved musicals. Like straight out creamed over them. Well as much as you can cream when you don't have boobs yet. I wanted to be little ginger Annie & live in the big mansion with Daddy Warbuck & Sandy the dog. I knew all the songs from The Sound of Music & on boring Sunday afternoons I used to round up the hood rats from my hood & put on amateur performances of that particular musical for the parents. All under my direction of course. I also used to pretend I was Mary Magdalene from Jesus Christ Superstar & my Italian neighbour at the time, Spiros, who's feet used to smell like pasta sauce, used to play John Farnham's part. You get the idea......

Annie in the orphanage

That lady & the Von Trap children

Fast forward to my future self. I would rather have a grenade full of tacks shoved up my jacksie than sit through a musical. I blame my journey to adulthood. It changed me.

I hate ALL musicals. Except for Glee. I know. What the fuck.

Every Friday night, it is unwritten law in my household that I get all control of the TV between the hours of 7:30 - 8:30pm. There is no compromise. If anyone dares to challenge me, the mother of all shitstorms reigns down in Becky town.

I watched the first episode of Glee purely out of curiosity. The crew on the E channel were all up in Glees ass & I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. First impressions, being the devoted musical hater that I am, were less than average. I sat & yelled for the whole episode about what utter shit rot it was while Blake watched on in amusement. Yet the following Friday night, there I was, sitting on the couch with baited breath waiting for the next episode. I just couldn't stop myself. It was like discovering a new type of crack.

The thing I like about Glee is that it covers all the bases. Bullying, teenage pregnancy, homosexuality, OCD, unrequited teenage love, sex & mainly how much it sucks ball bags being a teenager. None of that applies to me anymore seeing as I have now have fully lady lumps & a nicely serviced fan-dang-a.
However, in this majorly fucked up world we live in, Glee provides positive messages for young people & for that I am willing to be a non musical hater for at least 1 hour every week. Plus it just straight up makes me happy?

I am now going to bore you with a descriptive list of some of my favourite & not so favourite characters from the show.

I don't like Kurt. He has an unnaturally high voice for a brother. When he has a solo, I put the TV on mute because if I don't, I will probably stab myself in the ear with a screwdriver. Plus he cried like a bitch when the warbler bird died. It's fucking bird dude. Chillax.

The only thing about Rachael that's hip is the fact she has 2 gay dads. She dresses like a granny & is another character in the show that makes me mute my TV. The girl has a mean set of pipes on her but ick, constant emotional over sung ballads make me honk. Plus she is rat shit at keeping her men. FAIL.

Noah Puckerman the bad ass delinquent Jew boy. He oozes naughty cool & is a little man whore. If I was 17 & back at high school, he would be the guy I would want to get all up on. And he loves fat bottom girls.

Sue Sylvester, the severely unhinged coach of the cheer leading team. She is my hero. Her acid tongue taunts & harsh one liners are pure gold. She stole my heart right from the very beginning when she said "I'm going to ask you to smell your armpits. That's the smell of failure & it's stinking up my office" & her chronic overuse of the name 'Butt chin'.

I love Mercedes. She's like a black Mariah (even though I actually hate Mariah). She is a sassy take-no-shit diva & when she sings I get a little bit excited on the inside. Her voice gives me goosebumps.

I also love Artie. Anyone that can still dance better than me whilst confined to a wheelchair is the bomb diggady. Plus he has lovely teeth & sings like a man angel.

I told Blake if he ever told anyone that I am a religious follower of this programme I would rip his lips off & use them as a headband. However, I am beginning to discover that I'm not the only grown up that hangs out for a dose of this show every week.

Tell me, are you a Glee Hater or A Glee lover like me? There is no wrong answer to this question. I promise I will never write about Glee again.

What you've just read is this weeks 'I'm a Winner Wednesday' post.

Please read terms & conditions HERE before you enter.

The pirate booty this week is............

1 x Maybelline Eyelash Studio in Blackest Black - I use this all the time. It's a little pot of gel eyeliner that you draw on with a little brush. It will give you the mean as hooker eyes. If of course that is the look you strive for. Seriously though, I am big on sexy eyeliner & this product is fab.

1 x Orly Mini Nail Polish in 'Witch's Blue' - I love Orly nail polish's. And yes I own this colour too.

All you gots ta do is be a follower of my blog & comment on today's post

THIS COMPETITION HAS NOW CLOSED

Love Bx

Little goon eye & the yeast infection

Yesterday I ventured in to foreign territory. A health shop.
B & I went on a mission after our gym workout to find some spirilina powder for our smoothies. His idea not mine. To be honest I don't really fancy slugging back a smoothie containing a substance that smells like the inside of a whale carcass. Anyhow.......

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the Health shop was the special needs girl standing with her mum at the counter. I know the girl & her mum through my job but the girl doesn't have a clue who I am. While her mum talked to the shop assistant about Henna Hair Dye at the counter, & Blake buggered off to find the spirilina, the girl & I had a bit of Mexican stand off staring competition, well with one of her eyes anyway. The other one was off on the other side of the room eyeing up the toy basket.

Regardless of the fact she has a mental disability, I couldn't help but feel like we had what could only be described as a little bit of a telepathic conversation. This is how it all went down.

Girl: "What are you doing here Becky?"
Me: "Looking for the green powder that smells like whale carcass"

Girl: "Do you like clowns?"
Me: "No I don't like them at all"
Girl: "What about gorillas?"
Me: "I don't like them either"

Girl: "Why are you wearing your mumble pants in public?"
Me: "What are mumble pants little girl?"
Girl: "Mumble pants are tights that suffocate your vag like clingfilm & give you yeast infections"
Me: "Woah I never knew that. I didn't have time to get changed after the gym today"

Girl: "Well you smell like a beef lasagne"
Me: "I just told you, we have been at the gym"
Girl: "Is that why your husband is so sexy?"
Me: "No. He was born that way"
Girl: "Would you be offended if I licked him on the face?" *her good eye makes a quick flick in Blake's direction
Me: "Go for it but he will probably actually taste like beef lasagne"

Girl: "oopsupsidetheheadsayoopsupsidetheheadeverybodysayoopala" *she rocks back & forth for a second
Me: "Were you just singing a line from 1990's hit song 'Oops Up' by SNAP!"  *she shuffles another foot closer to me & nods "I'm impressed. You weren't even born then"

Girl: "Why would your man marry a woman that wears mumble pants in public & smells like she has a beef lasagne hidden in her armpits?"
Me: "Because I let him drag me to Health shops so I can be mind fucked by 12 year old special needs girls & then taken home & have powdered whale carcass rammed down my neck"
Girl: "What evs"

She seemed satisfied with that answer & wobbled off to dribble on the toy basket in the corner.
She still watched me with one eye from the floor like a little plain clothed security guard as I played with the expensive organic dried shark diddle eye detoxifying anti wrinkle cream tester, that I smeared all over my face. I'm going back tomorrow to spend my weekly wage on a tube. My skin feels like it's been shat on by angels.

With my self esteem in tatters we headed home where I put deodorant on & changed into more yeast friendly pants.


Bx


Please note: No special needs children were harmed in making of this post. The child in question has an incredibly short term memory that refreshes itself every 20 seconds & she will have no recollection of ever seeing me in her life. I in no way condone making fun of special needs people or anyone with a disability. Nor is it a reflection of my attitude towards them. I love everyone.

Becky Truth for today: I once spent a summer working for a garbage recycling company. I had to stand at a conveyor belt for 9 hours a day sorting through dirty nappies, fanny pads, needles, porno mags & empty milk bottles. This coincidently wasn't the job description that was advertised on the student job website. I threw myself down some steps & broke my foot so I didn't have to go anymore. Actually I lie. I didn't do it on purpose. Fate pushed me.

The Human Barnacle

First off all, please observe this short advertisement for Pink Batts.

The man I have chosen to share my life with is my Pink Batt hug.

I love my husband. More than life itself. I would take a bullet for him (probably) & I would kick the ass of anyone that tried to harm him (definitely). Apart from being a man beaver as discussed in a previous post, he is also a man sized love rash. He loves to love me. And it drives me fucking nuts.

I'm not what you would call an overly affectionate woman. I don't feel the need to be constantly up in someone's business. I do enjoy snuggling, cuddling, smooching & kissing, but in moderation. And on my terms. If I'm over tired, surfing the red wave or just in a bitch ass mood that's a general red flag to stay the fuck away. Not my man. He just loves to get all up in my grill.

I spend the majority of my time at home with a 5'9" 79kg human growth stuck to me.

He's like my very own barnacle. I tell him to bugger off, he just laughs at me & tells me I'm crazy. I walk past him. anywhere in our house, he swipes at me like a monkey from within an exhibit at the zoo. Especially at my booty. I'm cooking in the kitchen & swoops in for a hug fest. I'm sitting on the couch reading/writing/watching tv, he has to be on me. I fight him. And he loves it. He says I make it a challenge for him. I constantly wrestle to get him off me. And while most people may think that this isn't how a husband & wife should be, this is how we are, & we really work.

Here are a few of the one liners he uses to justify his constant love bombing of yours truly.

"I just want to swarm you with my love like bees" - What the fuck?

"This is my secret love position" - while wrapped around me like a baby koala bear as I cook dinner

"I want to roll you up into a little ball & keep you in my pocket" - I'm pretty sure he pilfered one that from the movie Punch Drunk Love.

"I just wanna bite it" - referring to my ass as I walk past him & he grabs at it.

"Your breath smells like you ate a big poo" - No lie. He loves me that much he will tell me when I have shit eater breath

"Let's mate" - he is younger than me. In the prime of his very own sexual revolution. It's fucking exhausting.

"I just want to be all up in your sugar" - Sounds like the name of a really shit song from a really shit boy band.

He is my human barnacle & I love him.

Bx


P.S I'm going to be starting 'I'm a winner Wednesdays'. This will be happening every Wednesday from this week onwards & I will giving away something I like. You must be a follower of my blog first of all to be in the draw & you will never know what the prize is until the day.
 Details to follow in Wednesdays blog post.

Becky truth for today: I once peed in the corner of my best friends garage. We arrived back at hers after a large night on the juice, her house is up half way up a small mountain & I couldn't hold on. It was either doing it in her garage or doing it in my pants. I chose the former. Because no one likes soppy undies.

Saturday Morning Shitlist: May 21st

1: Don't write a new status on your facebook then 'like' it. Let the people decide.

2: Big boobs. They aren't all they're cracked up to be. Have you ever heard the saying 'tits in a tangle'. Well I would just like to say, for the record, having your tits in a tangle is not a fun time.

3: Masterchef on the TV right in front of my face while I'm working out at the gym. It's kinda taking the piss.

4: Marching Bands. Self explanatory.

5: Communal Laundry's. Finding someone else's pubic hair stuck to your pillow case is not cool.

6: DIY Botox Kits. Nature didn't intend you to fuck with your own face. So why in the world would you buy a DIY Botox kit off the internet & then act all horrified when your lips end up looking like a pair of slimy pink dog diddles. You couldn't pay me enough money to let someone stick needles in my mug thank you very much.

Stay inside lady. You look like a troll doll.

7: Big ass birds. Luckily in NZ we don't really have any big birds. Not any that scare me anyway apart from maybe the Velocoraptor. Blake & I used to be fascinated with these giant seagulls & their uber shits & decided to call them Velocoraptors. I'm not sure of it's proper name but it's like a giant gull & comes in normal seagull colours or shades of brown. There are a lot of Velocoraptors down the harbour where we live. The sit on top of the lampposts watching over the land like the bird police. I'm pretty sure if it wanted to it could peck my head open & eat my brains right out of my skull. Don't trust birds. Especially Emu's & Pelicans. That's all I'm going to say.

Speaking of birds if you would like to read another hilarious blog involving a bird, go here Woogsworld
This lady from across the ditch cracks my shit up.

The Veloceraptor Gull. The Mac Daddy of Seagulls.

8: Fire Alarms. The only time fire alarms should go off is when there is actually a fire. Not just because they feel like it.

9: Pyjama pants that split in the crack. $22 for 2 pairs at The Warehouse. Again, you get what you pay for. This is the second pair of PJ pants I have split in the last months. I felt cold air on the beave this morning & upon investigation found this.......

I'd ripped another pair. In my defence it's not because my ass incredible hulks through them, it's because after a few washes the material weakens & plus sometimes I sit like a man with my legs wide open hence stretching of said weakened material.

10: The little bastard that stole the whole tank of fuel from my friends car last night. First of all I didn't even know you can do that? Second of all, the powers that be in the realm of karma will put you in prison one day, maybe not for stealing petrol but for something worse. Mark my word petrol thief boy you WILL be some big tattooed hairy bogans bitch. On that day, when you are face to face with the scrotum of another man, know that everything has gone full circle.

11: The Spin. We used to have endless shits & giggle type fun with 'the spin' when we were kids. You spin round & around with your arms out. However don't do this when you're drunk regardless of the novelty of having a whole dance floor to yourself. Gravity & the Molotov cocktail of alcohol inside your body will fuck it up & you  may end up smashing into a table then getting forcibly removed from the premises by the fun police bouncers. This happened to a gent at the bar we were playing at last night. He had no one to blame except himself. He ruined his own party & my entertainment.

12: The Rapture. Well just in case you are interested people of the universe, especially the knob jockey preacher in America who claims today is meant to be judgement day, it's nearly lunchtime & I'm still sitting on my couch watching the food network. So unless JC is planning a late arrival he better hurry up because I have to go to work in a few hours. Why do people feel the need to do this I will just never understand. And anyone who is foolish enough to believe this dumb old twat & his blatant scare mongering needs a serious bitch slap.
Oh & in case you have no idea what I'm talking about, Jesus is supposedly coming to earth today to take the all the good guys to heaven. Apparently the rest of us are going to die. How lovely.

And answer me this, seeing as I technically live in the future compared to the preacher, does this mean I will miss out on all the excitement?

Yet another genius idea from the boys at http://www.therock.net.nz/

Peace out & Happy Apocalypse Day!!

Bx


Becky fact for today: If you ever see me performing on stage & I'm singing with my eyes closed, I'm actually having a Sims power nap. I like to utilise my time. And sometimes I just get tired.

A Supermarket Hazard

You know those rare moments (for some not so rare) when you accidentally bang into or kick the corner of something & it hurts like a fucker. It hurts so bad that your eyes well up but you don't cry because once you become a responsible adult human you aren't supposed to show signs of weakness. Unless of course you are at home & no one's looking.

Well I am an angry hurt person. Surprise surprise. When people try to comfort me after I've injured myself I will take a swing at the air around them or roar profanities at them. They haven't actually done anything to me but it helps with my healing process if I have an actual person to abuse.

For some reason unbeknown to myself, all of the supermarkets in the city I live in have a one way system entry gate. I call them The Clackers because of the clackety noise they make when you walk through them. Please see picture below.

This photo is taken from the post entry side of The Clackers
@ Trafalgar ParkCountdown, Nelson

The clackers are like giant metal mouths with long steel teeth. Because of the aforementioned one way system they pertain, once you're in, you're in. I'm not sure why they have these. One can only assume it's so people can't steal shit.

For reasons that remain unexplained the clackers & I do NOT get on. Yesterday was a particularly bad day.

I have been so traumatised by these clackety gates that yesterday afternoon I spent a couple of minutes analysing the situation before I attempted to walk through them. I considered getting down on the floor & crawlng underneath them but I didn't want to embarass Blake & time wasn't on my side. I just had to wing it.
Now let me reiterate. The long steel teeth only move one way so if you work against them they will stab you in the leg. Which is exactly what happened to me yesterday. Blake asked me a question about mandarins whilst walking through the clacker gate & as I turned to reply to his question the stupid fucking thing stabbed me in my thigh.

I howled in agony. Furiously rubbing at the spot on my thigh where it had bit me. And boy did I swear my head off. A fruit department boy came over & asked me if I was ok to which I replied 'fuck off fruit boy your gate is a c**t'. (FYI - I am actually a lady & I'm rather agin to using the C word, but sometimes, especially when overwrought with pain, there just isn't any other swear word right for the occasion).

A girl I recognised from my school days was putting her hands over her little boys ears & trying not to look at me. An old lady filling a bag of mushrooms stood & watched mouth agape. Poor Blake was trying to comfort me as I sat on the ground taking pathetic swings at the air while trying not to cry. It completely ruined my grocery shopping experience.

I have had numerous stabbings in my buns & thighs by these stupid bloody gates. And I never even try to go the wrong way through them. They just don't like me. I have also had a pocket ripped off one of my beautiful cardigans & one handbag strap broken. I also won't forget the many times I've attempted to walk through & my clothes get caught on them & yank me backwards. These gates are a HAZARD.

You would think that due to the fact my thighs & ass have sufficient padding on them it wouldn't hurt as much. Well that is a complete fabrication. Fat has feelings too you know.

I've decided to write a letter to all the supermarket owners of my city & suggest something a little more pain friendly. Something like this perhaps?

See this security gate makes more sense to me. There is nothing about this gate that screams hazard. Except for if you are 60cm tall & get your head slammed between them? It still serves the same purpose of stopping the thieves escaping & is much safer to the general non stealing customer like myself.

I am interested to know if anyone else has had a run in with the supermarket clacker gate.

Or is it just me?


Bx

Becky fact for today: Contraire to my constant talk of violence I have only ever actually punched 2 people in my life. The transvestite who molested me on the bus in Auckland & Kyle, the boy with the lisp who I caught pashing up my drunk & vulnerable younger sister at a party when I was 16. He was MY boyfriend. I boofed him in the face. It was awesome. I then found a bike with 2 flat tyres round the back of the house where the party was & proceeded to ride it home in the rain crying. He arrived at our house an hour later & threw stones at my bedroom window yelling how sorry he was. Oh how I love the drama.

My Manimal: I live with a Beaver

I know what you were thinking when you first saw the title of today's post. Oh god she's talking about her fanny again. Not so. Read on....

If you have a husband/wife/life partner & you had to choose one animal that epitomises your beloved, what would that animal be?

Well people, I am married to a fucking beaver. A man beaver.




The reason I have a beaver for a husband is pure & simple, he likes to leave small piles of *shit all around our house. I admire that he utilises the tiny space we call our home to the best of his abilities but for the love of god instead of having 10 piles of shit, could we maybe whittle it down to single digits of shit?
*Not the poo kind

At present I can count at least 11 small gatherings of his important man things from where I'm sitting in our lounge. It's like having an obstacle course in my own house.

I have told him on more than one occasion that unless he plans on building me a little house using his tail, out of all his piles of shit, then we need to relocate everything. I will even help him do it. I have actually done this a few times but like the committed man beaver he is, he just begins the pile making all over again.

Sometimes I like to sit & watch him go from pile to pile trying to find a specific item amongst all his crap. He rubs his chin, furrows his brow & generally becomes quite concerned at the prospect of maybe losing one of his treasures. I like to move things just to fuck with him. Don't feel sorry for him though as he does this to me also.

After observing the male species for 31 years, I am happy to inform you that I don't think it's just my man that displays beaver-like qualities. It's men in general. I feel sorry for women who live in a house overwrought with testosterone & boy germs. My Aunt has 1 husband & 2 sons. My friend Katie has 1 husband & 2 sons. As does my sister in law Tenielle. I pray for them all sometimes.

 If I could change a few things about dudes, these would be a few of the more important things on my list.

• All men would have a zip sewn on to their ass crack at birth. It would be law that when any man goes to bed, the zip gets zipped. I'm sick of my bed smelling like an all night fart party.
• Pubes. I detest them. Bush maintenance is vital & there are no exceptions. Also please note that scattering your excess trimmed pubes around the bathroom like magic fairy dust is not ok.
• At the age of 5 it would be a pre-requisite that every boy child must take a class on how to use a toilet brush & how to flush a toilet. Because no one likes to see skids or floaters.
• Crotch scratching & subtle sniffing of the scratching hand would illegal. If you were busted doing it your wife would be allowed to chop your hand off with a ninja sword. Same goes for boogers.
• All men are allowed one size-able piece of man space within the home & all your shit must stay within the boundaries of said man space. If anything is caught, spotted or found outside the boundary line, it will be set on fire.
• Showering once day is mandatory. Especially if one hopes to get ones hand on wife's good bits.

I asked Blake last night, out of interest, what animal I would be if he could choose only one to compare me to. After much careful consideration he said that I would be a lady Lion. He claims this is because I am a wonderful gatherer for our little family of two, if anyone touches my food I will rip their face off & when I'm not roaring my head of at the fucked upness of the world I am yummy to cuddle/bone. Oh & I have nice hair. I'll take that.

Somehow against all odds the beaver & the lion can co-habitate.

What manimal are you or do you have living in your house?

B x


Random Becky fact for today: I live in an apartment at a motel. We don't have to pay rent or any utilities in exchange for one of us always being on the premises (in our apartment) every night after 8pm. We are like the night watchmen except we are allowed to go to bed.

Drama on the dramas

I would just like to know, out of all the people I know on this planet, how many of you have been to a wedding when the bride turns round half way up the aisle & fucks off?

I have been to about 254 weddings & I have not seen this happen once. Not one fricking time!!! Yet in the magical land of TV it happens two or three times to nearly every character on every drama. Shortland St (NZ Soap), Coro St, Home & Away, Neighbours, Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, Desperate House Bitches etcetera.

Most of the story lines are such a load of pissflap. Except I'm exactly like every other 30 something woman, I watch this crap because I choose to. I sit & roar my head off at the TV about how stupid it all is. 99% of the time I can actually predict whats going to happen. And I'm always bang on. My niece thinks I'm magic & that I can see the future.

Last night on Grey's the Asian Doctor Christina married the Ginger Doctor Owen. It was Asians second attempt at walking up the aisle. The first time her fiance at the time (Black Doctor Burke) bailed out at the last minute. As you do.

I have a feeling that my American followers may have seen this episode last year. Yes we are that far behind the 8 ball here in Hobbit Land. We've only just got colour TV & cars with rubber wheels.




Then on Private Practice the Hippy doc Sam & the Ex-slaughter victim Psychologist Violet decided after some crazy sex to get  hitched. Dr Psych decided half way down the ailse that it was all a bit too much & she needed some time out. But after a good talking to by her BFF about life problems she sorted her shit out & married the Hippy Doc anyway. What a fucking drama!!! It's exhausting to watch.

I used to cry at anything even remotely emotional on TV. Mainly weddings. Oh & Biggest Loser. It could be 2 cartoon Baboons getting married & I would howl like a banshee. (I still howl at Biggest Loser). But I have become so de-sensitised to the bullshit story lines of all these dramas that instead of bawling I now spend the majority of these programmes yelling & throwing my shoes at the TV.

Violet, moments before she turned & ran

When I got married I spent the hours leading up to my big moment focusing on keeping the vom down. I was so nervous. It was about five thousand degrees, I was sweating in places that a lady shouldn't sweat & I desperately wanted to get the show on the road. I have no patience.

Not once, not even for one small second did I think whilst walking up the aisle, what the hell am I doing, panic & do the bolt. First of all I had on some fucking ridiculous shoes. So even if I had wanted to run, I literally couldn't.

The fucking ridiculous shoes

Second of all I was so excited to see Blake after being apart from him for 24 hours that I was nearly peeing in my panties. I later found that the moisture 'down there' was in fact not pee but was actually a little perspiration. Don't be so surprised, this shit happens. There's a lot going on down there you know. Men will never understand.

For evidential purposes, here is a photo of me fanning my fanny pre wedding ceremony. Trust me it was so hot that day there was a cue going out the door to use this breeze machine

Now that is some real life business right there.

So tell me people of the universe, what story line on TV right now is getting your tits in a tangle?

Bx

P.S Let it be known to all that one of my new life ambitions is to do a gig in just my bra & knickers like Lady Ga Ga. I've taken note & according to majority of MTV music videos it seems to be THE way to rock out now days. However I swear I won't do this until I've lost the 60kgs.

Holiday, Celebrate

A little bit of song to get your head in the right space before you read my post today. I'm not miserable like Mr Sandler but his version is so much more heartfelt than cone tits Madonna's version.

Today is day 2 of my 2 weeks leave & gotta tell ya, I'm feeling slightly shit house. I have turned into a snot goblin, with itchy eye balls, angry hair & a body that aches like a kick in the hairy clangers.

I had a dream last night about my first love, Nick the Catholic. In my dream he kidnapped me in his orange Triumph & wanted to take me to his parents 40th wedding anniversary. Pretty normal dream right? Well that was until he told me he also wanted to stick a bag of onions up my vagina. WHAT THE! Then began the all too common dream chase scene. Now in real life for a fatty I can move like a Cheetah if I have to but for some reason in dreams my legs decide to be stupid bitches & refuse to move. Don't get scared though because from somewhere on my person I whipped out a big muthafucker Kill Bill ninja sword & chopped that bitch up. Ain't no man going to stick vegetables up my kooka.

The content of my dream would suggest to some that maybe I have some unresolved issues with that ex boyfriend. Truth is no I don't. Any person who purposely records 'Everybody Hurts' by REM over & over on an 80 minute tape, & actually listens to it, needs get the hell away from me. I woke up & felt my husbands buns to make sure I was definitely only dreaming.

Yesterday as you may know if you read my last post, I had to chase my own poo around the toilet bowl for a stool sample. There is a reason why our bodies get rid of that every day. And it's not something that should have to be touched. I've been somewhat traumatised by that but it helps me to talk about it. Thanks for listening friends.

I've been watching a lot of food network channel. It's like my version of porn. Who needs erections & big gaping holes when I have Bobby Flay Grill King, Big Bum Nigella & Lydia the Italian to entertain me.
I love it!

I've only bought one thing online so far. Praise be to miracles.
This be it. My new Throwzini knife block.
It spoke to my inner psycho & I had to have it.
How cool is this shit?

It normally retails for $189 but I got it for $29.95 off http://www.1day.co.nz/

Today I am going to go to the gym & shake that ass.

I will more than likely have relations with Blake because it's high time I put out. Plus I'm not busy so have no excuse.

I might go & see a movie or start on my new Bryce Courtenay novel that's been collecting dust beside my bed for the last month.

And I will probably do some work. From home. What a fuckhead.

Bx


P.S For my new blog friends. From now on at the end of each post I will share something new about myself. I once got molested on a bus in the middle of the day by a drunk tranny. True story. Before he/she could really get her hand on my goodie mound I had punched her in the face. It was a good day.

Off to see the Bleeders

WARNING: IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH OR CAN'T HANDLE POO TALK

DO NOT READ THIS BLOG. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

I had to get up close & personal this morning with the contents of my bowel in order to obtain a 'stool' sample as requested by my Doctor. All I will say about this (mainly because I promised my cousin Greg I wouldn't talk about my poop anymore) is that I hope like hell I never have to do that again. Fumbling around the toilet bowl with gloves on, with a scooper so small I think it was made for a mouse, trying to catch a little bit of jobbies is definitely not one of my proudest moments.

At some stage this afternoon I have to take said poop sample in to the local Medlab for inspection. It's currently hiding in the pocket of my Dickies back pack because Blake said if he knows where it is in our house he will die.

Imagine having to get out of bed every morning to go to work & inspect people's turds. How depressing!?

My mum is a Bleeder. Vampire (the non sparkly kind). Needle jabber. The proper name is Phlebotomist. She gets to stab people for a living. Some days when I'm slightly angry at the world, I get jealous of her & wish I could stab people with needles too. However blood makes me incredibly squeamish so I would more than likely spend the majority of my working day lying on the floor unconscious or on a chair with my head between my legs breathing in to a paper bag.

I used to be pretty tough when it came to injections & anything involving jabbing needles in to my person. But after a few really bad experiences with blood tests when I moved away, I now fear them. FEAR them. I try to act real tough but on the inside I am kacking my pants & my heart is beating in my chest like a jack hammer.

My mum is the only person in the whole world I will let stick a needle into my arm. Without a fight at least. She has been doing it for 20+ years & is dam good at what she does. She feels veins in people's arms like a blind person reading braille. I'm not joking. My arms are thick & fat. Finding a good vein in my arm is like trying to find a can of coke in the Saharah. Though somehow she does it, every time.

She also knows when I am trying to delay the inevitable so I better get this over & done with before I get a 'mum' lecture. And before Blake divorces me for keeping shit in my bag.

Wish me luck!

Bx

Brownie baby.

Sometimes I like to bake my little shit nugget something tasty. He is a good husband even though I am still holding a bit of a grudge for him giving up on meat. Just to make sure he is still the man I married I like to ram sugary things down his neck.

I decided to try a Weight Watchers recipe this afternoon. Chocolate cheesecake brownie. I made some small changes because quite frankly I don't feel like forsaking 6 points for a piddly ass piece of brownie. So my Brownie don't have no cheesecake topping. In the recipe it says 6 points for one piece. Fuck that. I got this little baby down to 3 points per serve because that's how I roll.

3/4 Cup sifted Self Raising Flour *9 points
1/2 Cup sifted Cocoa *5 points
1 Cup unsweetened Apple Puree *4 points
3/4 Cup Caster Sugar *18 points
80g Chocolate Bits *12 points
1/2 tsp Bicarb Powder
1/2 tsp salt
3 second oil spray *1 point

I shit you not, this is ALL the ingredients.

• Pre heat oven to 180 or 160 if you have fan bake
• Lightly spray a 20cm (base measurement) cake tin with oil spray. And line your tin if you want but not necessary unless your brownie tin is a hundred years old.
• Mix all ingredients together & pour in to greased tin.
• Bake for 20-25 minutes until looks & feels cooked.
• Let it cool then cut it up into 16 (yes 16) pieces

I was skeptical but this is SO good. Extremely moist & tres delicious. Minus the thousands of unnecessary calories & sleepless night of guilt. I dare anyone to say it doesn't taste as good as the usual time consuming & higher calorie version. Blake's already eaten half of it. That's my boy!!

P.S Wait til it's cooled before you cut it. Hence why mine looks like it's been cut with a chainsaw.
If you make this & don't think it's the bomb I will let you punch me in the face just once unless you screwed it up & in that case it's entirely your fault.