Q & A with Dr B: Serial Vag Puncher & Anti Instant Noodle Campaigner

Due to the popularity of the last Q&A with Dr Bex post, my inbox has been overflowing with a wealth of troubled questions. Without further ado, here is part deux. Because you asked for it x

Dear Dr B,

At the end of the day when I take my knickers off, I can't help but notice the distinct cabbagey odour in my underwear? Do I have some sort of infection?

Miss Smelly Cat

Dear Miss Smelly Cat,

Girlfriend, you need to get your beave checked out. Any smell resembling 'off' fish, household cleaning products or rotten produce needs to investigated. Also it may help if you stop rooting vegetables. Now I know you will be reading this & thinking out loud 'fuck off I do not do that Dr B', but Smelly Cat, I am a pretend Doctor. I know things about things you know nothing about. It's fact. What scares me even more is that your vegetable hump of choice is a cabbage?? Logistically I don't even know how that's possible but vagina's are mystical magical creatures so nothing surprises me anymore. If your GP gives you the all clear I suggest you relocate to Bangkok stat. You could make a killing with your cabbage fanny show.

Yours faithfully, Dr B

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Dear Dr Bex,

My husband has a serious bout of man flu. I want to run away & hide so I don't have to listen to his constant snorting, sniffing & hacking phlegm cough. Either that or I stab him. Do you have any suggestions on how to help him recover from his man flu faster?

Mrs Stabby Stabberson.

Dear Mrs S.S,

Stab him. The end.

Your faithfully, Dr B

P.S Follow this strict instruction & you can't go wrong.

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Dr B,

My boyfriend likes me to get dressed up like a shark when we have sex. Now I kinda understand the naughty nurse/police lady fetish but this shark bullshit is whacko. The sad thing is I really love him & will do whatever I can to keep him happy. I feel like an idiot & am really not in to this. Do I tell him & risk hurting him or carry on suffering in silence?

Thanks, Miss Jaws.

Dear Miss Jaws,

As the wise bogan metallers Iron Maiden once sang 'Run to the Hills, Run for your Life'. You don't want to be a part of this freak show. There ain't nothing good about flapping around under your lover boy dressed like an angry fish. We have to take a step back & look at the big picture here. The resounding solution is get the fuck out now. Next thing you know he'll be wanting to take a dump on your face. There are no boundary's to that kind of crazy. Besides, there are plenty more fish in the sea. Sorry I had to say it.

P.S Your Shark Boy wrote to me last week. I can tell you this because Dr B doesn't do 'confidentiality'. He said he had a problem. I gave him most excellent & wise council. He didn't take any of it. Leave his ass.

Yours Faithfully, Dr B.

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Dear Dr B,
I got yelled at by an angry fat lady on the Exercycle at the gym yesterday. She called me a dick & kept pointing at my legs. When I got home I locked myself in my room & cried myself to sleep. Whats wrong with my legs?
Miss K

Dear Miss K

That fat lady was me, Dr B. I had to control myself from jumping off that bike & kicking you in the slats. Just to clarify & restore your wilted ego young one, your legs are fine. Although I feel the need to advise you that unless you are going to a My Chemical Romance concert at City Fitness you don't need to wear skinny jeans on the treadmill!! You will have all sorts of nasty vag/yeast complications. Vagina's weren't designed for having the life sucked out of them by snuggy black denim. You need to let that shit breath. That is Vag Care 101 girlfriend. Second of all, don't cry. Crying is for pussies. Pussie Emo's that wear skinny jeans on the treadmill.

Yours faithfully, Dr B

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Dear Dr B,

My 89 year old Granddad has recently moved in to an elderly residential village. My nan died a few years ago & we just don't have time to keep a constant watch on him 24/7. Anyway last week when I went to visit him I found him in the toilet attempting to wipe his ass with his cat Blackie. We had to have the cat put down as he got a terrible case of pink eye due to the exposure to faecel matter. He is now insisting we get him another cat. How do I deal with this situation?

Thanks, Mr & Mrs ShittyKitty

Dear Mr & Mrs,

I'm sorry but I just laughed my ass right off. You Grandad sounds like a right goer. Plus I bloody hate cats.

Let the old guy have his pussy. If he wants to wipe his ass on a cat, let him. In fact buy him a whole bunch of cats.The fact he can shit unaided at 89 is a miracle. He has been around the block more times than you & your husband put together. He know's a thing or two about life. Embrace the mental. Old people rule.

Yours faithfully, Dr B.

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Dear Dr Bex,

I have man boobs. Can you please recommend a good plastic surgeon. I am tired of living my life like this. Please see photo enclosed.

P.S. You are so much better than Jesus.

Mr Tits

Dear Mr Tits,

I have no words. Those are the hugest bitch tits I have ever seen in my life. Like seriously dude, you could make a whole other person out of those bad boys. Anyway you wanted answers so here goes......start taking some lactating hormone drugs, move to africa & nurse you some starving babies. This is your right of passage. You were blessed with uber jubs to help the hungry & less fortunate. Go forth my child. You will be the king of humanitarian relief. Those celebrity serial adopters aint got nothing on you. It would be rude not to share your mams of wealth with the universe.

Yours faithfully, Dr B.

P.S Should I be concerned that you seem to be wearing a Little Black Dress in your photo?

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Dear Dr B,
My neighbour seems to have a cussing problem. I am convinced he has Tourette's. Whenever he is out doing odd jobs around his back yard he seems to be constantly yelling out expletives. While I am no straight laced woman & have been known to curse on occasion myself, I don't feel it right that my children be exposed to this sort of madness. I am thinking of approaching the man but am scared he will whack me with his shovel & bury me in his backyard. Help?
Yours, Mrs Lickarsey.

Dear Mrs Lickarsey,

This neighbour you speak of is a prime example of someone 'letting the angry out'. It's called therapy & I have experienced first hand this kind of rage. Basically you can't fuck with it. If he holds it in he will explode & getting whacked with a shovel will be the least of your worries. Whatever you do, DO NOT ask him to tone it down. If you ignore my requests, you will open the black hole of rage. He will burn your house down. Guaranteed. You will have to move. I have attached some emotive visual imagery to hopefully scare you into moving.

Yours faithfully, Dr B.

Disclaimer: I am obviously not a doctor. Please don't do or try any of these things I have suggested.  

What's the most embarrassing thing you have ever done? I pretty much get all my shit out there in my posts. Now it's your turn x

I'm A Winner Wednesday prize this week is:

 Your very own copy of my nose twin, Bear Grylls autobiography.

In order to enter you MUST be a follower of my blog.

Comment on today's post.

Read HERE for Terms & Conditions.

THIS COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED

Mad loves!

The Anal Leakage Noodle Club

The first time I ever tried instant noodles, I thought I had suddenly discovered all of life's answers, at the age of 9. My sister & I thought they were the fricking shit bomb & demanded that they be part of whatever mum dished up for dinner every night. Actually if there wasn't any noodles involved, we screamed our fucking heads off. I was so high on a cloud of noodle infatuation that if my mum had of told me to run down the main street my knickers on my head I would have done it. Noodles were like crack to me. And I couldn't get enough.

image stolen from here

We were a meat & 3 veg family. My Dad would chuck the mother of all shit fits if mum tried to get a little jazzy with her cooking & make something different. He liked routine. And due to his somewhat racist nature, Pasta, Rice, Pizza or anything that originated from another foreign nation was out of the question. He didn't get no noodles. Which pleased my sister & I stupid because it meant we got more.

When I was a kid, I used to have a ranking system when it came to dinner. I used to rank everything on my plate from shit house to awesome. I way over thought things. First to go was usually cabbage. I hated that shit. Still do. It's like eating swamp weed that has a distinct odour of fart. I used to cry for Charlie Bucket on Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. His family had to eat cabbage soup because they were so poor. This upset me so. Then they got given Willy Wonka's factory at the end of the movie. Chocolate & candy for life yo! Fucking awesome! My youthful faith in the karmic realm was restored. HUZZAH!!

image stolen from here

Tip for anti-cabbage eaters: After plenty of years of practice I've found holding my nose when I eat it the least painful way of cabbage consumage. Or throw it on the floor under the table & say it slipped off your plate. This tip also helps if you have a small house dog that will eat anything. Even cabbage.

Next I'd eat the rest of the veg. Then the hunk of animal flesh. Once I'd demolished all of that I was left with my small portion of noodles. I would treasure each thread of deep fried, MSG covered noodle like it was made from the hairs of an angel . The nightly noodle eating was a sacred time for my sister & I. This was only time I was silent for longer than 2 minutes. Unless Mum hadn't dished out even portions. Then there would be much shouting & thumping. And possible death. I loved noodles that hard.

When I moved out of home, I always had noodles in the cupboard. Quick, easy & didn't involve any sort of  high maintenance cookery that may potentially burn my flat down when shit faced. At uni I also lived on noodles. And cigarettes. My cigarette addiction meant I couldn't afford to eat actual food so I just ate noodles. Sadly for noodles, fags moved up to number 1 on the list of important things in Becky's life. They had become a nothing to me except a basic survival requirement.

Now as a grown up married women I can't eat noodles anymore even if I wanted to. Mainly because within half an hour of consuming said noodles, I get the screaming shits. AKA noodle shits. Gone is the stone hard gut of my youth to be replaced but the sensitive easily angered stomach of an old lady. But you know what, even I could eat them I wouldn't. Noodles are bad. They have no nutritional value at all, are filled with so many additives & preservatives that your children will foam at the mouth while bouncing off the ceiling and they are deep fried. BAD BAD BAD noodles!!

I bet you didn't know that there is such a thing as the World Instant Noodle Association or WINA. I shit you not.

First of all, who the fuck comes up with this shitflappery? Well friends, I can answer this question. He is a little old man, that looks like Mr Miagi from Karate Kid if he didn't have hair, & his name is Momofuku Ando from Japan. He invented instant noodles.

He felt so strongly about his instant noodle plight that he made up a club (please see above). His posse visit ghetto's around the earth, building houses & giving out instant noodles to malnourished & underprivileged children. They also have an Instant Noodle Association annual summit where all the instant noodle big wigs from around the world (no jokes, there are heaps) get together & discuss such issues as the unrest in he middle east, AIDS, obese children & world hunger. The irony splits my shit sideways.

WINA's number one business goal is to provide information by way of improving the quality and the safety of instant noodles. Just in case your noodles go feral & try to eat your face off. And their logo above apparently symbolises the coming together of the oceans & noodles? I don't know about ya'll but I ain't never been swimming in an ocean of noodles?

One aspect WINA prides itself on is being able to help out in a crisis. They were responsible for delving out thousands of packets of instant noodles to the folk in Japan who lost everything in the earthquake back in  March. Nothing soothes the ache of losing all your possessions & the death of thousands like a packet of anal leakage noodles. Especially when there's no power. You fucktards. Thanks WINA. You rule.


Peace!

I'm A Winner Wednesday Week 5 is................

Nan S from somewhere on the planet that I'm unsure of at present, congrats, you are this weeks winner. Please flick me an email to bexstard@yahoo.co.nz & we'll get your prize out to you asap.

Shit guys. Like shitty shit shit shit, 76 followers!! This pleases me more than having my boobs fondled. And I really like that. I met a blog fan last night at the rugby. Her name shall now & forever be Richard Rachael. I hung out at the rugby with her & my sister in-law Murray Megan. Richard says to me (please keep in mind I have never really met her before & ignore the fact that her & Murray had consumed 2 bottles of wine before the game) "I don't even know you but I love your blog, I read it ALL THE TIME". I was elated to the point of explosion. I wanted to hug the shit out of that little bitch. She then told me that her friend who I also don't know follows me as well & she loves me HARD. I was all like 'get the fuck out' & she was all like 'east side to the west side muthafucker' & I was like 'yeah I have no idea what's going on now'.

Anyway I hung out with these 2 girls for majority of the game. There was a lot of swearing, like seriously, I have a whole new respect & love for my sister in law. She has a mouth on her like a fisherman's wife. I never knew. I was sober. Tired Becky & alcohol don't blend well so I chose to abstain from partaking of liquor.



Me, Megs & Rachael
They will more than likely stone me for putting this on here x

 WELCOME to all the new readers. You guys give me major wood. Like the biggest wood EVER!! If you have any questions, or just want to chew the fat, flick me an email bexstard@yahoo.co.nz.

Yesterday I met Paul Henry. What. The. Fuck. I KNOW!! He was dressed like Austin Powers in a royal blue suit & I told him he looked rather dapper. He said, 'how many dudes you know roll like this Bex?'. And I said ' you know what Paul, not many, if any'. And he said 'How many dudes you know got the skills to go & rock a show like this?'. And I said, 'uh uh uh uh I don't know anybody'. As he was walking out the door he said "Bex I love your blog more than my own children". Actually he never said that. Nor did we quote the lyrics from Scribes 'Not Many, If Any'. But if he did read it I bet you he so would.

FYI - For my blog gangstas all around the world, Paul Henry is a dry humoured funny as hell New Zealand TV broadcaster. Or should I say, he was. TVNZ fired him for calling the Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit (pronounced de-she), Sheila DICK SHIT on live national TV. His lack of political correctness & I don't give a dam attitude is what made most of NZ love him. He may not be on TV anymore but I still think he's a rad bastard. If anyone is interested you can read all about him HERE.

The rugby game was a bit of a non event for me. No scrote shots but it didn't stop me, much to my husbands dismay, from yelling out 'show me your scrot Smitty!!' when John came on the field. He so heard me, I know it. Along with everyone else within a 1km radius. I was awesome.

Afterwards, most of the crew I was with buggered off into the city to party. Blake, his BFF Wops, Claire & myself decided to head home. But not before doing a lil' bot of stalking. It's the one & only time this South African team will play in our city, would be rude not to.

I don't have patience. None. SO the stalking idea wore off for me after about 5 minutes when I all feeling disappeared in my feet, hands & nose due to extreme antarctic-like cold. I started to chuck a tantrum but the 3 South Africans I was with were having none of my shit. They wanted to touch some rugby players.

We went around to the back of the changing sheds where the bus was waiting for the team. I saw Richie McCaw & Justin Marshall but couldn't get close enough for a photo due to the unruly mob in my fucking way. Plus I'm just too cool. I don't like getting up in famous peoples business. Unless it was John Smit but he'd already left by the time we made it over there.

Blake got a couple good shots of Sonny Bill Williams. As he got closer to me I yelled out 'Yo Sonny, I'm married to a South African but I still love you bro'. He looked right at me, gave me the head nod, & said 'Cheers babe'. Blake wasn't even mad.

Good god this man is sexy

 



Then Blake's best bud & fellow SA boy, Wops, got a photo with The Beast. I have no idea who The Beast is but everyone else knew so I got excited too. Wops was stoked. You can kinda tell by the massive shit eating grin he has plastered on his mug.

The Beast & Wops

I took a million more photo's of the game, again sadly no scrot shots but ladies I did try hard. I got one of SBW picking his nose & heaps of bums in the air scrum shots. I will be blogging about them this week I promise.

I have a great prize lined up for I'm A Winner Wednesday this week so if you aren't already following my blog, as in your little face is not a little square picture off to the right hand side of this page under 'My Gangsta Trippin Home Girls & Boys' then DO IT. You MUST be an actual follower of this blog in order to win. It's  the rules yo.

For now I will leave you with this picture of some funny monkeys touching bottom.

Peace!

2 Hours Sleep & an Asian House Party. Don't expect big things from me.

Somewhere between getting home from my gig at 1:30 this morning, staring at the ceiling for an hour & a half willing the head music & ear ringing to stop so I could sleep, saying every expletive known to man when my alarm went off 2 hours later to get up for work.....one can only wonder how I got this rock n roll shit all so wrong.

Hello. This is me right now. The down syndromy looking one. Don't be distracted by the pretty eye make up & giant forehead. On the inside I am dying.

I don't drink when I make the music. This is my look of pure sleep deprivation.

The gig last night was so so. My leg didn't get humped by a drunken stranger, nor did I have any bottles thrown at me head. All night, my impending doom of a 5am wake up was stuck in the fore front of my mind. I couldn't enjoy myself. Not even when the Irish guy told me I was beautiful & had glorious mammaries. Not even a smile I gave him. Normally I love Irish.

Just as I'm thinking it's wind down time, about 60 very short smiley people of Asian ethnicity walked in to the bar. And they wanted to party yo. Fuck. SO we sing, & we dance, & we take a shit load of photos, & we wave our hands in the air like we just don't care. For the love of all things holy please let this frigging end now so I can go home & go to bed. Before the humming of the guitar had died down to a meagre ear bleeding shriek (fuck you Grant & your loud guitar x), I had shapeshifted the hell out of that joint.

My alarm went off at 5. I got out of bed & stood at the door for the briefest of moments, watching my sexy currently unemployed husband peacefully sleep. I wanted to kill him. 

I spent a good 20 minutes power napping up against the wall in the shower. I made an important decision in the shower about how when I am on my death bed, I want to dance out the dying swan scene from Swan Lake. I don't care how emaciated I am, I want my end to be epic. With fireworks & shit. Please let this be noted for future reference.

It is during these tiresome times of Becky when the realms of reality & my head crazy imagination seem to blur in to one really fucked up bad time. For example, right now I'm sitting at my desk. I am freezing cold & am actually considering wrapping myself in toilet paper in order to retain some warmth. My head is having balance problems on my neck. Like I literally have to push it down so it doesn't fall down. And I can't feel my nose but I'm almost certain their is nasal moisture gathering on my top lip. I can't feel it, therefore it doesn't exist. I am such a freakin' mess.

I am expected to deliver top quality customer service for the next 6 hours, with a voice like Joey's manager Estelle off Friends, all the while fantasising about hurtling ninja throwing stars at the head of anyone that dares to walk through the office doors. Stars or excrement. Either one would be just as awesome.

If one of the taxi drivers walked in with his entrails hanging out his jacksie because some city street hobo jumped his shit, I would just shrug, give him some sellotape & tell him to fix it himself. I am not Macgyver. Fuck off. And unless they're coming in to bring me cake & blanket I'm not interested today.

I want to get inside a cardboard box & sleep forever with some kittens, clouds, & a bucket of kfc chicken. I'm on scrotum watch at the rugby tonight. I must be on form.

So anyway, I apologise sincerely that you have had to be subjected to this willy dribble of a post this morning. I know it's traditionally shit list time but I can't bring it full force this morning. This is all I have. I love you guys.


1: Working. I hate it more than anything else in the universe today. Except for paedophiles & rapists.


2: All the young penis'd ones around that have Bieber hair. Yesterday I asked the young guy at The Warehouse why he wore his hair swept horizontally across his forehead like a douche. This dudes hair was longer than Biebs & hanging over his eyes. He couldn't see at all.

It is an absolute fucking mystery to me why these guys wear their hair like this. He says to me, & I quote, 'It just grows this way'. I told him he needs to vag punch his mother & demand new hair. He laughed & gave me 50% off the xbox remote control charger I was buying for Blake. We bonded over his gay hair. He didn't even charge me for the seal suffocating device (plastic bag).

Hair does not just GROW THIS WAY. I am older than you boy. I know a thing or two about gravity.
It's called spending an hour with mum's hairdryer & a fuckload of product.

3: The Octopus Lamb. This amazed & saddened me all at the same time. Such a ball of emotions. Once question though, how the hell does he know what legs to use? He would never get tired. Shit if I had 8 legs I would run all day long.

Lampchops your mama did some crack!

4: Dirty Motel Mattresses. I once watched this show where they tested the hygiene of mattresses at motels around the country to see how clean they are using a UV light & some fancy UV spray shit. Some of the results were revolting. First thing I do now when I stay at a motel is **sniff the mattress on the bed. If it smells like tuna or alfalfa sprouts, I sleep on the floor. After I do that I sift the couches. I turn them upside down to see if any money falls out. My dad taught me that.

** I have never actually done this.

5: Chicken Bacon. I just don't understand this concept? Did a chicken & pig pork & make baby chicken pigs? Do the lengths scientists go to to clone shit these days know no bounds? Well I'll tell you something right now, you can stick your chicken bacon. I will eat your bacon, the pig kind but chicken bacon NO WAY. What next a Polar Bear Lamb roast? Venison Racoon steaks?

image source

Peace!

Why I am going to watch a rugby game tomorrow?

Because I want to see scrotum. Scrotum that accidentally exposes itself out of the inner leg of the rugby players shorts. It's one of my life missions. And it will happen eventually. I will see scrot.

I tried to hunt for some visual imagery for the purpose of this small post by typing, with careless abandon into Google image search, 'Exposed Scrotum'. After I regained consciousness, got up off the floor, then cleaned up my vomit, I feel it my duty to advise you NOT to do that. EVER!

I love scrotum. Not in an I-want-to-snuggle-up-with-a-pair-and-use-them-like-a- pillow type love. I'm just curious & a little fascinated at how the men of the universe have all been brandished with a pair of dude lumps that look like they belong on a 2000 year old dead guy. Once you guys hit puberty it seems to all turned to shit.

You would think somewhere out there in the universe some glamorous entrepreneurial ex soap star would have come up with some scrotum anti-wrinkle cream? Screw Proactiv. Lets get inventing. Scrotum Skin SO Shiny 'a face lift for your bags'. That shit would sell yo! Scrotum is the epicentre of man & should be so much more good looking than what it is. **My husbands scare the living shit out of me. I don't get why something so awesome (his dick) can be accompanied by something so hideous (the scrot). It's like his man beef has a butt ugly wing man. I don't want to acknowledge him but I kinda have to. Out of politeness. if nothing else.

**I love all of him really. Hard out. His scrotum rocks.

Here we have a few of the greatest Scrot moments in sporting history.

The Pole Vaulting Scrot.

The Wrestling Scrot (yes he is tea bagging himself in the face. Magnificent)



The Man-nastics Scrot

The High Jump Scrot

Ice Hockey Scrot (barely visible due to extreme cold temperatures)



THE ULTIMATE SPORTING SCROT OF ALL TIME..........

Children please divert your eyes

THE SOCCER SCROT!!!!!! Frank AND Beans!!!



I'm off to the Crusaders/Sharks quarter final game with the South African contingent tomorrow night. I will be sitting there with my camera at the ready. I'm chomping at the bit for a John Smitty sac shot. That would complete me.



I'm thinking about creating a Global Wall of  Scrotum. Thoughts?

Peace!

Q & A session with Dr Becky: the Google diagnosing Queen of Awesome.

Dear Dr Becky,
My husband is a good man. He likes collecting butterfly's & playing LegoWars on PlayStation. He also likes to feed me. Burgers, Pizza, K-fry, if it has a high fat content, he will attempt to ram it in my cake hole. Since we have been married I have put on 357lbs. And we only got married last year in March. Basically I have become one huge bitch. I need a bookmark to find my necklace & constantly smell like 'off' salmon. I can't help but feel as though he finds me attractive this way & I do whatever I can to please him. The other day he asked to roll me in flour so he could find my wet spot? Is this normal behaviour?
Mrs C. Sanders 
Dear Mrs Sanders,
Google says suffocate him. I won't tell anyone. He is a douche & totally deserves it. Get your ass out of your house (call the fire brigade if you have to. They will chop you out. I saw that once on TV) & shed that shit off girl. If you find the local town children staring at you through the windows of your own home like you're a carnival sideshow while you are being fed 3, foot long subs in succession, by a disgusting little greasy fingered husband with a hard on, THINGS NEED TO CHANGE. If you don't do this, you will probably die & dying aint fun. Not that I know this first hand but I'm assuming it's pretty shitty. Life is great, smell the flowers, roll in the meadow, pet some kittens, you want to stay on this earth for as long as you can. Preferably without people trying to use you as a form of shade when you are chillax at the beach.
Yours Faithfully,
Dr Becky.

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Dear Dr B,

My son keeps taking his nappy off & smearing shit all over the place like he's trying to redecorate my house. I've tried taping is nappy on with duct tape but he chews through it like a rat. He has teeth like baby shark. Please help me, I don't know what to do anymore. My house smells like a mud factory.

Mrs Shit House

Dear Mrs Shit House, (LOVE your name btw)

Send him back & ask for a new one. Or build him a little house outside. He can live with the dog (yes I am assuming you have one). That way when you poop scoop the doggie doo doo you can do your kids poop at the same time. 2 birds, 1 stone. Easy peasy. If he wants to act like an animal, let him free in to the wild. He may come back smelling like a mouldy asshole, but he will come back. He is a man. They always come home when they get hungry.

Yours Faithfully

Dr B

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Dear Doctor,

I have a huge growth coming out of the right side of my head. Is this serious & should I be worried about it?

Anonymous

Dear Mr Bung Head,

Don't be alarmed. This is just your Siamese twin manifesting itself after years of  being in the shadows of your giant noggin. Unless it grows teeth & starts biting you, I wouldn't be concerned at all. Get out there & reap the rewards of being a little bit freaky. If anyone asks to touch it, make sure they wash their hands first. These little Siamese guys have terrible immune systems & trust me you DO NOT want this kid getting a head cold. 

P.S If Dr Phil wants in on this, tell him to bugger off. That baldy fuck doesn't know anything.

Yours faithfully

Dr Becky 

 

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Dear Dr Becky,

I have a wart growing on the end of my index finger on my right hand. I've tried everything to get it off but nothing seems to work. It's causing me problems in my romantic life. I am a single man & finger fungus seems to put the ladies off. Please help, it's ruining my life.

Thanks in advance

Finger Guy

Dear Finger Guy,

Shoot it. Buy a gun & shoot it off. I promise it will work. You will lose your entire right hand in the process, it will hurt more than paper cuts on your scrotum, but my man I gotta tell ya, the ladies love a cripple. Especially a cripple that doesn't have finger fungus. Please make sure you have an up to date gun licence as you may be arrested. And for the love of Christ, Buddha & those funny Harekrishna's, do it outside. Your Mama will be pissed if she comes home from work to discover hand meat splattered all over the kitchen floor.  

Yours faithfully,

Dr Becky

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Dear Doctor Becky

I have can't stop eating chalk. I wait behind after school & sneak in the classroom once the teacher has left & steal boxes of chalk from the storeroom. What's wrong with me & can eating chalk hurt me?

Chalky Chalkster

Dear Chalky Chalkster,

What is wrong with you child? Why would you do that?That's some major crazy right there sunshine. Regardless of that fact, chalk won't hurt you & it will be something you will grow out of. How do I know this you ask, well first of all Google told me & also I was a chalk muncher when I was young too. Although I never stole it. I hid in the storeroom with a boy called Steven & we ate chalk together. We were meant to be 'tidying' the storeroom. A little bit of advice though, if you eat it at school, make sure you wipe your face afterwards. You don't want to find yourself sitting in the principals office being asked if you spent your lunchtime bobbing for apples in a pile of cocaine.  

Yours faithfully,

Dr B 

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Hi Dr Becky,

I think my next door neighbour secretly wants to have sexual intercourse with me? She keeps getting dressed with her curtains slightly ajar & answers the door in her dressing gown & pink bunny slippers. She also smiles at me all the time, although I'm not quite sure, I may be reading her all wrong? I'm really rather taken with this beautiful lady. Her skin looks so soft. I would look really good inside her skin.

Mr lover lover.

Dear Mr Lover Lover?

Ding dong! Crazy is up in the house! I'm sorry Hannibal Lector but I can't help you. First of all 'getting dressed with her curtains slightly ajar' is a little bit different from 'standing outside her house with your face squashed up to her bedroom window' which is what you actually meant. I read between lines psycho. Secondly,while your brain still functions somewhat normally please move far far away from civilisation & take up a hobby. Like cooking. Cook your fucking ass off. And I don't mean literally.

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Dr B,

I'm really embarrassed writing to you but I'm desperate for some advice. I like to masturbate while watching Shark documentaries on the National Geographic channel. I find sharks so arousing & I just can't control myself. My girlfriend wanted me to take her to Sea World when we were visiting the Gold Coast last year but I couldn't do it. I was too scared I would spaz in my pants when I saw the sharks. Please help.

Shark Boy

Dear Shark Boy,

The world we live in is full of weirdos & some of us find ourselves in situations where we become aroused by strange objects or marine life. Like trees, picnic tables, street lamps, sea crustacea.....the list could go on & on. Me personally I'm straight up into dick, but hey, I'm a pretty normal lady. Go out explore the world. Forget about the sharks. They will never love you like a lady can. Long term the shark/man relationship would never work out. You can't breathe underwater & a shark would eat the shit out of you. Forget them. move on to the fannys. Fannys rule.

 

Disclaimer: I am obviously not a doctor. Please don't do any of these things I have suggested. It is all fictitious & made up for the purpose of making my blog followers laugh like bitches. However, if you would like to know how to cure dandruff the old fashioned way or some more doctorly advice, go see Rachael @ Oh, Rachael. She isn't a doctor either but her advice it still awesome. 

I'm A Winner Wednesday prize this week is:

Record style coasters. Way cool yeah?!

I have these in my home on my coffee table.
Become a follower of my bloggy woggy & comment on todays post.
Click here for T & C's.

What's the worst advice you have ever been given?

THIS COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED

Peace!



Dear Evil Twins aka my bladder & bowel.

I thought it was high time the pair of you got a telling off because to be honest, I am SO sick of your piss & wind.

10 years ago, you two used to be able to take anything I threw at you. But it seems of late you have reverted into what can only be described as geriatric old bastards with severe behavioural problems.

Bladder, you are a nagging old lady & I want to know what you think you're playing at. We used to party all night girl, grinding up on unsuspecting crotches & shaking our shit to Shakira. I will never forget the time at my work Christmas party when you got so drunk & pissed in my pants because someone made me laugh too hard. And then took my knickers off & dumped them in the sanitary napkin bin in the public toilets at Queens Gardens. (they were sexy new ones too). It shocked me how you didn't smell like urine AT ALL, kept it hidden from everyone & still managed to maintain a certain level decorum so we could keep on partying. Commando even. You were so hard core back then.

Now you are like a shrivelled up old granny bag. It's like babysitting a handicap person. Two beers & you start to dribble like a retard. It's embarrassing!! I have had to ban you from drinking because we spend more time standing in the line for the loo than actually enjoying ourselves. This shits me off something chronic. Everyone says you should try holding off going to the toilet for as long as you can when you are drinking so you don't break the seal. Well your seal must have rotted & crumbled away because you don't seem to have one?

I remember when we went to the Big Day Out for the first time. We were both so excited. Until you started to guzzle back the brewskis. That was when the trouble started. You had no patience which became obvious when we had to line up for half an hour every time we needed the toilet. You chucked a tantrum & made me venture into manland & use the boys toilet. And by the time bum hit seat you'd already half finished. Walking around a music festival, under a 30 degrees scorching monster sun, with soggy knickers & a moody angry bladder was not my idea of a fun time. Thank god the 2 years following you stayed away from the booze. I was pleased to see you had learnt your lesson.

I suppose I can't be too mad at you because that lady we know, who we also won't name, that pisses herself every time she sneezes & can not hold her wee in at all causing her to leak in various places all around her house is way worse off than me. Her bladder gave up on her a long time ago. I hope like hell that we don't end up like them.

For a 31 year old I must say you have aged very badly. I am terrified to think what is going to happen when I get pregnant & you have the body of a small human constantly pressing down on you. I guess we will cross that bridge when we get to it. Just remember you work for me. You are part of my elite support team & I need you to be on form at all times.

As for your dirty brother Bowel, I don't know what you have been eating lately dude but Jesus Christ your burps STINK. Like nostril burning kinda stink. You are like a ticking psychitzophrenic time bomb. You don't know whether you are coming or going & quite frankly it's exhausting.

I will never forget the time I took some iron tablets when we went away camping down the Abel Tasman. You had me holed up in the long drop toilet for about 5 hours. For nothing. It was like a game. You made my guts hurt like buggery so I would run to the toilet thinking that I am about to explode like that Chile volcano & then nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. You left me a weak, sweaty, pale mess. And that time I ate the bad lasagna & you chucked the biggest shit ever. I thought I was going to die trying to keep you in check, camped out in my blanket tent outside the upstairs bathroom. You were like a mad man, completely out of control.

I feel like you have some kinda beef with me a the moment because you have been behaving way worse than normal. You seemed to have developed allergies to curry/spicy food which makes me incredibly sad & you have been keeping me up all night with your constant noise. I've sought some professional advice on how to deal with you & your problems but no one seems to be able to shed any light. It's been difficult but somehow I seem to be trucking on. My husband doesn't like you either because of your rancid stench & the fact you use way too much toilet paper. 

image source

The pair of you should know that I will be monitoring you closely over the next few weeks. I am hoping to see some sort of improvement in your attitudes & consistency in your behaviour. Don't be hating on me either. I've nurtured you both & given you a good life so far. One can only hope you will endeavour to show me the same respect in return. Defy me & I will make your lives a living hell.


Bx


P.S You two really need to learn to tell the difference between day time & night time! I am sick of dragging my ass out of bed at stupid o'clock in the morning because of you. Also please tell the ovary twins if you see them, to please keep hanging on in there. Their time to shine will come soon enough.

I'm A Winner Wednesday: Week 4 is.................

Congrats to my beautiful friend Bonnie over at fat-be-gone. You are this weeks winner (Random number thingy picked number 11). I will send that shit out to you asap. From the land of the infamous farty boys Terrance & Phillip of Southpark, I have found my cosmic twin Bonnie. She is mental & I love her. She is also on a weight loss mish like myself & is kicking big bunches of ass. She inspires the shit out of me!! Check out her blog. She's not vulgar & cuss happy like me but secretly she is actually a dirty little bitch. I know this because sometimes she says things to me that leave me speechless. And I don't shock easily.

This week in the life of Becky has been average. Good average. I lost 500g at WW which pleased me as I have been busting nuts this week to get back on track. I've found trying to break out of this fatty funk plateau I'm in, harder than trying to light a fag in the hurricane.

I didn't punch the bitch who has been trash talking me in the head either. My self control is similar to that of Jesus. I am also trying to fight off sickness. I don't get sick. This is my mantra. However even the hardiest of souls get their asses handed to them by a head cold sometimes. Things are looking positive so far but I woke up this morning with nose leakage. On the grand scheme of things, this is a lot better than having anal leakage. Just saying.

I spent time with my sister & her uber gorgeous human growth, Kaitlyn on Friday. That's always a good time. I'm off to see Bridemaids at the moobies this arvo with my blister. I've heard good things about it from a viable source (my BFF Kylie) but mainly I just want to DO something on this otherwise rainy, grey, shit house Sunday. Something that doesn't involve me sitting on my couch in my pj's all day hoovering down any food I can get my hands on like a malnourished African child.

Oooh ooh & I made it onto Oh Noa's League of Funny Bitches top 15 list. Thanks to everyone that voted for me. It's an honour to be listed with those other bloggers because they are funny ass m*therf*ckers. Especially the one & only funny bitch with a dick Wag the Dad. His shit never ceases to make me laugh.

I will leave you with this picture of funny monkeys performing cunnillingus. Good times.

Peace!

Saturday Morning Shit List: June 18th

1: Medieval Re-enactments. The only time this twatflap of a travesty is even remotely close to being deemed 'acceptable behaviour' is when Heath Ledger is involved, people stab each other with big pole things whilst trotting on a horse & it's a movie called 'A Knights Tale'. It's called the olden days for a reason. Because it's old. And old smells like the inside of a cabbage factory.

I still don't get it.

 2: Eggs. I still like them but Blake doesn't. That may be because I told him that an egg is a stillborn chicken fetus. Don't listen to me. I know nothing.

3: Butt acne. I don't have this, nor do I know anyone that does. It's like the lochness monster of skin afflictions. No one has it, no one has seen it but it supposedly exists. Fact is, no one really sees your bottom (unless you are a homosexual man). So even if you did have butt pimples no one would ever know. All I know is that if I had pimples on my ass I would have to dislocate my shoulders to get to them because that area of my body is literally impossible to reach as it extends about half a metre from the back end of me. No shit. If I could spin my bottom half 180 degrees I could use my ass shelf as my TV dinner tray. Or a convenient table for my laptop. All I'm saying is that butt acne, if it exists, must suck big hairy chode berries.

4: Mean girls. It has come to my attention this week that a certain person in my life has been shit talking me behind my back yet is a smarmy over friendly little bitch to my face. It twists my pancreas in to seething angry knots. Girls can be such wankers sometimes. I generally try to avoid all things bitchery but being burdened with a vagina & ovaries sometimes makes this impossible. Apart from a few fopars ( I have apologised for these & 'made up' with persons involved), I attempt to live my life & treat the people in it with the respect & courtesy I in turn like to be shown.

5: The NZ Government using $10 million of tax payer money toward the dignitary's coming over for Rugby World Cup. The queen is coming, as are the royal brothers Harry & Wills, the president of Russia & a heap of other important dudes that shit money like it's fashionable. Our economy is in crisis, our government is in debt up to it's neck, Christchurch is suffering, people have lost everything they've spent their whole lives working hard for & their city is completely fuckered, yet somehow our nations leaders can pull a cool 10 mill from their ass (actually our asses, the hard working tax payer) to blow on people that roll in the stuff. AND me, someone who donates ridiculous amounts of tax from my weekly wage can't afford to even go support my beloved team because the prices are extortionate!! Excuse me for thinking that this isn't criminal. This shit makes me weep.

6: Parking metre machines that eat your coins. If I had've had an axe on my person yesterday there would have been bits of parking metre machine flying all over the car park. By weeks end I have zero patience. Especially not for stupid robot machines that eat my money. Disclaimer: It was actually my sisters money. Regardless, I still wanted to chop it.

7: Side walk spit. After having the shit fit at the parking metre machine I then had to dodge some one's giant green throat bogie on the pavement. I have never understood the spitting thing. I have been known on occasion to hoick up a good one but I would NEVER spit it on the pavement where people walk.

8:The Iraqi guy who got busted with 74 pellets of methamphetamine swimming in his gut attempting to leave Auckland international. According o the news report, the custom officer had to wait for 7 hours for the suspect to 'pass' the drugs. That is one long poo. Iraqi guy, you are a dickhole. And you obviously never got my letter Dear Drug Smuggler. Sew your anus up now Mohamed, there will be bum sex.

9: Bellybuttons. I don't like bellybuttons. They are all kinds of fucked up to me. Especially new born baby ones. It's like they have this piece of dried beef jerky sausage hanging from their belly with a peg on the end. I do not know how I will cope when I have a baby. I don't think I will be able to touch it until that shit has fallen off. Blake likes to rub my belly sometimes like it's a magic genie lamp. I think he's hoping a prize might come out. Like an xbox game or something. If he loiters anywhere near the button or attempts to finger my belly hole, I have a major freak out. It's no go territory.

GROT! Nice tight stomach but.

 10: Toe shoes. I'm sorry but am I the only one that is mortified by these shoes?

As well as bellybuttons, I also have a phobia of toes. These shoes bring up all sorts of psychological issues for me. They look like monkey feet! If you came anywhere near me wearing these horrifying excuses for footwear I would possibly attempt to hack your feet off the end of your legs with nearest sharp chopping instrument. Blake's girlfriend Scarlett Johanssen wears them when she goes jogging. Whatever. She is a bitch.

11: Earthquakes. For the love of Christ MAKE IT STOP! For my blog buddy's that have never been to my little bastard country, I'm just letting you know that I don't live in Christchurch. I'm about 5 hours northwest. We watch on from around the country in horror at what continues to plague this city, trying to comprehend in some small way how those people must be feeling. It's such a tragedy. This is one of the saddest things I have ever witnessed. People have died. This shit is so real. And those shakes just keep on coming.....

12: Rusted from the Rain - Billy Talent.

Dude this song blows. Humans can't rust in the rain. Unless you dress up like a medieval knight everyday (I think we have already established how I feel about that) or live outdoors in an old fridge. I hate this song. However I will give you snaps for using the hobo in your music video.

PEACE!