Retarded Human Behaviour Files: Pants on the ground

Last night, there was a young guy with his girlfriend standing in front of me at Domino's. He had pants on. But not really ON on. The waist band of his pants was down underneath his butt cheeks. Not around his waist. Therefore he wasn't actually wearing his pants as pants, more like full length leg warmers.

Now I've always believed you're glass is full or empty. None of this glass half full bullshit. And just really confusing.

It's kind of like you are either a  full blown puss muncher or you like dick. Bisexuality should be a crime. It's not fair that your should be allowed both.

Another example is you're either a dedicated follower of the lord or a proud & out heathen. You can't go to church every second Sunday & have an OFF Sunday in between. In which you spend the day rubbing ointment on your herpes from the orgy you had the night before & smoking copious amounts of opium laced crack & beating up retarded children. No way man. Jesus forgives (so I've been told) but he doesn't appreciate blatant piss taking.

Same rule should apply to pants. You either where them in the way they were intended or don't where pants at all.

Now I'm all for boy bottom but I really wish these dudes would stop wearing their pants like this. Do you know what this tell me about them?

They really like their own ass. Anyone who purposely lets their jacksie hang out of their pants in that manner obviously has no self confidence or body esteem issues.

They shit their pants a lot. In order to abstain from actually shitting in their pants & creating soiled washing for their mum, they wear them in such a manner that no cloth covers anus.

They have worms & scratch their bum more than deemed normal. Wearing them this way creates easy access for hand/bum action.

They really really want piles. I don't know what piles even are but old people always say 'don't sit on that you will get piles'. One can only assume that without having the ass part of your pants actually covering your ass like they are supposed to, means you are upping your percentage chance of catching the mysterious piles. Good.

Someone lied to them once & told them it was trendy. New flash motherfucker. NOT COOL!! You look like an asshole. And if by some miraculous god like miracle, you have a girlfriend, she is an asshole too. For not making you wear your pants properly.

They like to flash their back fanny at people. I don't make a habit if going around flashing my vagina to strangers. If I did ever feel compelled to do that, I would atleast have the good manners to ask first. Same rule applys homo. Don't stand in front of me & back your hairy cha cha in my face. I know it's covered, usually with some heinous sloganised print boxer shorts that say PIMP. You ain't no pimp fool. You is a homo.The biggest actual non gay homo in the universe. If you're going to rock your pants like a loser, you should purchase these personally designed boxers I have made for you.

You have Phocomelia (short arms & deformed fingers) & you physically can't pull them up that far enough to cover you booty.

If this is the case then I understand & empathise, but there are devices you can buy that can help you with this shit. Also you need to torch your mum for taking drugs while she was pregnant with you. It's totally her fault you keep smacking yourself in the chin with your spoon while you eat your cornflakes.

You have no arms at all. If this is the case then I'm sorry, I bet the story of how it came to be that you have no arms anymore is tragic yet slightly exciting. However, you can pay someone to pull your pants up for you. Just a thought. P.S I'm sorry you will never experience the awesomeness of a well timed high five. This makes me weep.

You ass is allergic to the material of your pants. I can't quite figure how it could be possible that only your butt is allergic & not the rest of your lower body but hey my fingers are allergic to extreme cold air & itch like shit & become covered in white bumps. I can't rule this possibility out.

Your pants don't fit properly. Because you are too stupid & bought the wrong size. Take them back, get the right size.

You lost a shitload of weight & they are your 'transition' pants. In this case let your shit hang out freely. You have earnt the right to do this for a short period of time.

Your penis is so huge & because of your excess knobbage, logistics won't allow your backside to be covered by your pants. Firstly, I must see proof of giant penis. Secondly, get some specially made giant penis pants. I know people who sew.

You are borrowing your friends pants & he is morbidly obese. Why are you wearing your friends pants? I would never wear any of my friends pants? Pants are like toothbrushes. You don't share that shit.

I wanted to say something to this  pants on the ground guy last night but he looked like the type that would have probably knifed me. Becky Fight Rule 101: Pick your battles & always look for possible weaponry hiding in baggy man pants. Instead I kept it on the inside & spent the journey home ranting to Blake about how fucking stupid it looks. I turned to Blake when we pulled up outside our front door & said 'why does this annoy me so?". To which he replies "you are a grumpy old twat".

I will now leave you with a short video showing the lyrical skills of failed American Idol auditionee, Mr Larry Platt. Larry, my china from anothers hairy & highly likely African American vagina, never have I heard words so true.

*All rights to Fox & American Idol 2010*

Before I carry on with the rest of my day off I'd just like to share a little Becky story with ya'll.

Before Blake & I got together & were honest to god 'just mates', he invited me to his sisters wedding. They had their reception in a vineyard in the middle of a stinking hot NZ summer. This meant wine drinking in the monster sun which also means I got completely shitfaced drunk. So rotten that I don't even remember about 2 hours of the wedding reception. But apparently my friend Ange & I played musical wine glasses during the speeches, I danced to James Blunt (VOM!) & smoked a cigar. I was awesome.

Later on after the reception wound down a whole heap of us did a mission in to the city to the night clubs. After town Blake decided to crash at my pad for the night so we got a late bus home together. After getting off the bus we had to walk through a car park to get my house. The car park has a toilet in it which I was told I used because I wasn't going to make it another 100 metres without pissing myself.

The next day I woke up feeling like a bag of assholes with matching hair. Wine hangovers are the worst. I did a quick walk across the car park to the shop to buy some fags & some post drunken night out greasy kai (kai = 'food' in maori). Half way through the car park I spied a pair of ladies jeans hanging over the fence. I smirked to myself & thought some bitch had a good night out. Upon closer inspection, I realised with horror that those were in fact my jeans. To this day I can only guess I took them off in the car park toilet & walked home with no pants on.

I am certain that was the moment my husband fell in love with me because my ass was pretty awesome  back then. A really bad photo The Puss & I when we were younger & way before we fell in love. Also the night I lost my pants.

Does this mis-use of fashion man crime shit anyone else off as much as it does me? Or am I really just a grumpy old twat?

Peace!



What would Becky do? Part 2. Because I just couldn't stop myself.

If you giggle even a small little bit upon reading the shitrot you are about to read, then you really do love me. And I love you way harder.

What do I do if a strangers kid calls me a fat ass?
My eldest niece used to enjoy telling people that the reason my ass was so big was because I ate all the chocolate biscuits. It was a great joke. While she was quite right, the raging psycho fat lady buried deep inside my bottom wanted to flat out smash her. But I never would because I love her like I loved those chocolate biscuits.

However, if a strangers kid starts mouthing off re: my excess me-ness, I would lay that shit down, quick smart. People says kids can't help calling people out on their obvious physical afflictions, I say that's bullshit. Teach your kids some manners.

One time, during the worst year of my life, I worked in a bulk food store for all of 2 weeks. Whilst re-filling the Quinoa bin (what the hell is Quinoa?), a small child that had been watching me turned to his mother & said, out loud, 'mum, why is that lady fat?'.

She laughed (yes she did) & said 'insert boys name here as I can't remember it right now, everyone is made different my love'.

Fuck that. I turned to the child & in the quietest creepiest voice possible said 'your mum is wrong. It's because I eat too many little boys'. I stuck my bum out & rubbed it like it was full of magic secrets, looked the little guy right in the face & mouthed 'this is where they go'. He got upset, they left & I quit that shit job. But seriously go on & use that line. If parents can't teach their children good manners, scare manners in to them with lies & monster stories.

What if I need to poo at work?
It surprises me how many people will not shit at their place of work. Males seem to have no probs with this at all (especially the dudes I work with), but the ladies, oh the ladies, they get all weird about poo in the workplace.

You can't time bowel movements, unless you have magic powers. Mine has no schedule. Most of the time it saves it's grand appearance for home time. Me personally, I am old school when it comes to dumping. If you need to poo, you poo. Regardless of where you may be. (apart from in a swimming pool).

Many of my girlfriends however, will not poo at work. They refuse to. These friends also have never farted in their lives. When they share this with me, I feign horror & laugh at them. Then proceed to lecture them about how bad not poo-ing when you need to poo is on the body.

I'm here to tell you that mudding at work is ok. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Here are some important tips if you're a shy worker shitter.

• Do not stand up & announce to the masses that you are departing the room because you are off to lay down some dirty browns in the toilet bowl. Sneak out. Make yourself as unnoticeable as possible.
• Poo quickly. You can trick people into thinking that there is no way in hell you just shat right now due to the super quickness of your toilet visit. Practice at home. Time yourself. 
• You will never be fast if you use a whole roll of toilet paper every time you crap. Remember, scrimping on the bog paper means speed. But be reasonable. Don't mess on yourself.
• If someone walks in to use the neighbouring toilet stall while you have a bum nugget bungy jumping from your botty, grab the end of the toilet paper & pull as loudly as possible in order to create a high decibel sound disguise. At the very same time, squeeze like your life depended on it & get that clacker out. Whatever you do, do not freeze like a possum in a spotlight. If you do this, the bathroom will become so ridiculously quiet, & your escaped jobby will choose that moment to splash loudly in to the porclain bowl. It happens EVERY time.
• Always blame someone else for the smell. This is particularly easy to do if you share one toilet with 40+ people. If someone walks in while you are walking out of the work lav here is what to say. " I wouldn't go in there if I were you, insert name here just dropped their guts not 5 minutes ago. I am  so tough I can weather any shit storm". This will of course bring forth an expression & head shake of disgust on their face towards the faux turd criminal plus they will think you are the toughest bitch out. Don't feel bad. You will unknowingly be blamed for a toilet smell more than once in your working life.
• After you've finished your business, clean the toilet. Use toilet cleaner. It will slightly help with disguising the smell.
• Lastly spray the fuck out of the toilet with any pleasant smelling odour spraying device you can get your hands on. Some say that spraying makes it smell worse, but lets be honest, nothing can smell worse than the rancid stench of what just came out of your bottom. At least you will get a point for making the effort. If there's no toilet spray in your work toilet, deodorant will do the trick. Window cleaner or bug spray will also suffice.
• Go back to your desk & pretend like nothing just happened.

Someone has the biggest boog I have ever seen hanging out the end of their nose. Do I tell them?
If you haven't already yakked all over their face in revolt, I think it's good manners to let them know. A few years ago one of my mates had a big one hanging out his nose. He had no idea.

We worked together in a music store & I noticed his 'flapper' from the other side of the store, when he was in the middle of serving a good looking lass. He was flirting with her & I was rolling on the floor of the office absolutely hosing myself. After she left I told him about his public nose crime & he nearly cried. I felt bad but what was I going to do, call him out in front of the girl & embarrass him even more? No, I waited till we had some alone time.

If it's someone you know, tell them. If it's someone you don't know, tell them. If it's someone you don't like very much, don't tell them. Whatever you do, make sure you tell the person quietly & never yell it at the person across a packed school bus. No, I never did that. Ok I did.

Someone made a period in their pants. Do I tell them?
YES!! Oh god yes tell them. There is only one time when telling them is not acceptable. And that's if you, the person noticing the vag murder stain, has a penis. No dicks can tell a lady she has leaked. It's not allowed. Unless it's your wife or girlfriend & she isn't a knife wielding psycho at that time of the month when her hormones go up the wazoo.

I told a woman once that she had some visible leakage. I was 17 & she'd come in to my work to do some shopping. I lent her my jersey to tie around her waist so she could walk back to her car without anyone noticing.

This can either go one of two ways. Badly or Awesome.
If it goes badly, you won't know because before you've had time to close you mouth, your soul will be leaving your body via the gaping stab wound in your chest. If it goes awesome, they will hug the shit out of you & there may be tears. Or a prize.

I'm in a taxi/on a bus, I have a stomach bug & I'm about to shit my pants. What do I do?
This is bad. Like the worst thing that could possibly happen to you next to sitting in front of a screaming baby on an airplane while being shot repeatedly with a nail gun. And there is nothing you can do about it.

But you can prevent this ultimate shame from occuring. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOUSE! Even if you are dying & need emergency medical help, call an ambulance. You can shit your ass off uncontrollably inside an ambulance. Those guys are trained to deal with those sort of accidents. While it will still be the most embarrassing thing you will ever do in your life, it's better to do it in front of people who have seen worse. Not inside a public transport vehicle filled with judgey strangers with feelings & weak stomachs.

Someone I do not like at all has asked me out on a date & I don't want to hurt their feelings by saying no. What would you do?
Say no you asshole. If you say yes & agree to go on a date with this person, you are the worse kind of swamp bog scum on the planet. You are such bad scum that wild pigs wouldn't even shit on your face. And wild pigs are pretty dam gross.

How do I know this? Because I got face raped by a dead one that was hanging up in my sisters unlit car port early one morning after being out on the booze. Nothing can prepare you for that sort of terror. Nothing.

My husband used to work with a guy called Peaches. Peaches was a tall gangly nerd boy with a really nice personality. Peaches was in love with Amanda. Amanda also worked with Blake. Amanda was pretty, semi popular & had no acne. She liked to text at work & said LOL out loud. (hate you Amanda). Anyway Peaches asked Amanda out on a date & she said yes but when the day of the great date came, she stood Peaches up. Peaches was so gutted he didn't come to work for about a week & when he did come back he wouldn't talk to anyone. It turned out Amanda was doofing Steve from the store room & was never planning on going out with Peaches anyway. She just didn't know how to say no. That motherfucking bitch whore.

I hate Amanda. Blake pointed her out to me one day & then restrained me from high tailing it across the store to kick her blond LOLing ass. I hugged Peaches. He stood with his arms by his sides showing no emotion at all as he got hugged by me, Blake's strange wife.

Peaches will find love one day. He is named after a fruit for shit sake, how could he not?



Peace!



Down here in Grumpy Asshole Street, I vomed in the shower & punched my alarm in the scrotum.

I am not still being raped by the head cold. That packed it's shit up & moved on. But sadly not on to my smug husband like I'd hoped. I literally licked his face while he slept & hid used tissues inside his pillow case. I don't know how I possibly could have failed not infecting his ninja's. Time will tell. He says it's because he doesn't eat the meat. It's given him special powers.

I've been quiet the last few days. Not on purpose just so you know. I wish I had an awesome story of why I've been MIA from blogland my bitches but truth is, I've been a working my ass off. Like really work worked ALL weekend. Not I'm at work, pretending to work whilst wiling away the hours playing bejewelled on Facebook & writing about poos on my blog type 'work'. I worked. I worked so hard that if there was a medal for the hardest worker in all of the land this weekend, I would totally been stepping up to claim that shit right now.

Then last night, after I'd worked ALL day, we had a staff farewell party. My workmates are losing their jobs next weekend. It's so sad because I love these people. They are my friends & my job would have been impossible if it wasn't for them. And I'm also a little bit sad because I've been promoted o I am the only one that gets to stay on. And I feel guilty as fuck about it. (my issue, build a bridge yadda yadda)

No one knows how to drop a party like taxi drivers. There was A LOT of alcohol. So much alcohol that if we had party's for the next 10 weekends there would still be some left over. I had to get up at 5am this morning for work, so I kept my drinking to a minimum. Which basically meant I could still walk when I called a cab home at 9pm. I don't remember much about coming home or getting into bed at all but Blake said I was singing Under Pressure by Bowie/Queen. Loudly. And I took all my clothes off. Woo. So glad I waited til I got home to do that.

And when my alarm went off at 5am this morning I threw it across the room with such force that the whole front part has fallen off & my deep sleeping husband got such a fright from the bang that he may or may not have slightly defecated in his man panties. I can't confirm or deny that accusation. I also vaguely remember yakking in the shower.

I've got a busy week ahead. Working my ass off actually. Birthday celebrations on Friday/Saturday, then Sunday evening I'm off to Wellington for a week for work. I get to stay & spend time with my best beatch who I haven't seen since the start of the year. She is my soul sister & I miss her so much some days my chest hurts. I am so excited to see her that I literally have to be restrained to prevent me from screaming at strangers in the face when they walk by me.

Kylie & I squeal a lot when we're together. We also laugh like hyenas & get growled at for laughing/squealing too loud. She is ringing me tonight after dinner so we can talk about what shoes I should bring & how much money I'm going to spend at City Chic.

Mrs & Mrs Fanny Mangles x

When I'm busy like this, the funny part of my brain shuts down temporarily. All I have is a blurry mass of figures, & mental lists of really really important of things I have to remember to do in the next few days. I get home from work & am suddenly dyslexic. I struggle hard to string together a sensible series of words, so Blake & I have developed our own version of sign language. This means no.......

HELLO CUTE BABY! YOU ARE SO SMART.

I'm so on top of everything right now. For now.

However, mixed in with all this crazy non funny brain mess is a incredibly deep deep sadness. I'm in mourning for all those beautiful souls that were shot in Norway. Why in the fuck would someone do that? I cried watching the news tonight. Sometimes I really think I have too much hope for this world we live in.

Has anyone else cried like me? We're all friends here. Share your grief with me. But If you cried more because Winehouse overdosed then we can't be friends right now.

Mad loves & virtual non sexual cyber hugs to all my blog friends.
I want to hug the shit out of everyone I love right now.

P.S Funny, vulgar, ranty Becky will be back on Wednesday. Underneath all the excess, she's actually just a really sensitive guy.

What Would Becky Do? Your 'how to' guide for some of life's awkward situations.

I am so full of advice that sometimes I fear I will explode with knowledge all over my house. In order to combat & cope with this information bloat, I like to ram it down people's necks.

Even if you don't think you need any of this advice, I have subconsciously tricked you into reading it anyway.
And If you don't use at least one bit of  my advice before your time on earth is through, I will chop my own hand off & eat it. I'm that serious right now.

What do I do if a baby shits it's pants at my house?
If it's yours put it outside. If it's not yours put it outside but tell the kids parents what you are doing first. I have a cardboard box on my porch for such occasions. If it's lucky & it's grocery day, I might even throw it a packet of biscuits.

Fact is, small humans have no control over their bowel movements. It comes when it comes. If you are childless like me, & not familiar with the ways of kid crapping, make life easier for yourself by being prepared. If you are nicer than me, kit the shit box out with some sheep's wool & a portable DVD player.


image source

What do I do if I'm at someone's house & I need to shit?
This is a do I, don't I toss up. If there's only one toilet in the house & it's close to the kitchen/lounge room where everyone is currently gathered, hold that turtle head in. Clench your cheeks together like your life depended on it. The force alone will suck it back up into your body. You can not poo in someone's toilet if there's more than a 79% chance they will smell it. It's bad manners & they will never invite you back to their house again.

If your dinner invitees are flush & have more than one bathroom, locate the toilet furthest away from the action & lay that jackson down. Don't sit & read a magazine, or ponder world poverty issues, get in, get out, leave no traces behind. You are a ghost shitter. They can't ever know you did that in their house.

It's ok to poo at someone else's house if they are related to you. Doesn't matter if they have 1 toilet or 5, it's unwritten law that it's a free for all shitfest at casa de famillia. I always shit at my mums. I can't help it. I swear my sphincter just relaxes at her house because it knows if it needs to bust one out, it won't be judged.

What do I do if I have guests at my house & I need to shit?
In my little apartment (keep in mind I live at a motel) our bathroom is in a small room off our lounge. I have a no shit policy when we have guests. If you need to code brown while you have guests GO to the neighbours house, use a toilet outside of your residence (I use the spare guest toilet by the office) or use the baby stink cardboard box outside.

This is handy in winter because the poop freezes so you don't even need to touch it the next day when you discard it. Again, don't take forever, they will know what you've been doing & ultimately judge you for it. Automatic loss of cool points. In their heads you will forever be known as the guy that shits at dinner. Don't be that guy!

What do I do if I'm having dinner at someone's house & I find a pubic hair in lamb roast?
Hair won't kill you. Although if there's crabs attached to said pube, & that gets inside you, you will get internal crabs. They will eat you from the inside out until there's nothing left except a pile of bones. If you find scrot/vagiola hair in your food, pull it out & lay it on the table like a prized snapper. Make it known to all that you know they purposely tried to internally infest you with their std covered pubic hair.

Someone who lives in my house has a bush control problem. When he gets out of the shower he drys the shit out of his man cockery so hardout that his poor pubes have a shitshow in hell of staying attached. I spend most of my time at home with a vacuum cleaner attached to my hand. I am the pube hunter. I really wanted more for myself in this life, but hey, you do what you're good at. It seems this is my calling.

NB: You will never find any pubes in your food if you eat at my house. Possibly one or two stuck to the bottom of your socks? He scatters them around our house like magic fairy dust. Sometimes I miss one.

What if I'm in an important meeting & I sneeze fart?
Implement your acting skills. Imagine that if you laugh or acknowledge that that stink baff just came from your anus a thousand red ants will crawl out out the floor beneath you & eat you until your nothing but a bloody carcass laying on carpet. Scare the fear into yourself. Pretend it never happened. Carry on with your day.

If you flinch or show any sort of embarrassment, you will forever be known as the guy who shats his pants in the work meeting. Even though you didn't actually shit yourself. Work colleagues over exaggerate everything. Because they can.

What if I'm in an important meeting & my nose blows a mass of snot bubbles when I laugh?
This happened to me once at primary school. I was pretending to play the trumpet out my nose & play the mana mana, ba de be doobie song off the muppets to my boy crush Kent. The fury of my head cold broke loose out my nostrils & did an attempted mass exodus in the form of big green clanger snot bubbles. You know the ones that bungy jumps from your nose & the ultimate horror of what's happening causes you to suck it back up into your skull so fiercely that it rebounds into your brain. If this happens, there is only one thing you can do, laugh some more.

When you commit a personal shame crime, laugh it the fuck off. People will think you are awesome, a little bit grotty, but ultimately more awesome than grot. Because you laugh at yourself.

Secondly go blow your nose. There's obviously some stuff hiding up there that needs attending too.

I fell down 6 stairs off a stage at a gig once & skidded about 10 metres across a dance floor on my back. In a room of about 400 hundred people. I laughed so hard, I partially soiled my panties. I laughed for a good solid 2 hours & was still laughing when I got home. It was by the far, the funniest accidental embarrassing thing I have ever done. I wish all of you could have seen it.

What if my gay friend trys to kiss me?
You know I love the gays hard, but if you don't reciprocate their secret feelings of lust for you, set their face on fire with an aerosol deodorant & a cigarette lighter. People need to understand boundary's. Crossing them has serious consequences. In fact this applies to anyone you aren't attracted to that attempts to jump you. Burn them.

What if I need to vomit & I'm on the bus?
I saw my mum do this once when we were on holiday in the Goldcoast. She does that sometimes. She is so funny & she doesn't even know it. My sister & I nodded knowingly at each other & mouthed quietly 'it's the menopause'. For reasons that are beyond me she had a plastic bag inside her handbag. She buried her face inside her handbag & gagged her ring off. The girl sitting beside her wanted to melt into the floor & die but the bus was packed so she was kinda stuck beside the NZ lady vomiting into her handbag.

Carry a plastic bag inside your hand bag. Dudes, lop one in your back pocket. Plastic bags may suffocate marine wildlife but they are gold in a vom crisis. If you don't have a plastic bag here are some other convenient common places you can chunder in to in an emergency.

• storage compartment of you car door
• your hand
• empty tissue box
• empty coke can (this is tricky & requires absolute precision)
• a shoe
• a packet of chips
• the laundry basket (that shits getting washed anyway)
• on any animal. (not a dog though. They will eat it & make you sick again)
• the inside of a DVD cover
• a sock (preferably one with no holes)

What if I lock myself in a public toilet?
Spend an acceptable amount of time trying to kick the door down & hollering for help. If this doesn't work look above & see if your toilet cubicle is closed in or has walls you can climb. Never underestimate the strength of your own body in an emergency. I can climb toilet walls like spiderman if I have to. Most toilet cisterns can handle anything up to 250lbs of weight. If you are over that weight you will have to free fall from the top of the wall & potentially smash your pelvis. Broken bones can heel, unless you have osteoporosis.

If you are firmly locked in to your toilet stall & can't scale the walls, wrap yourself in toilet paper. You need to keep yourself as warm as possible. Getting hypothermia in a public bathroom will kill you. For situations such as this I always carry a snack pack in my lady bag as well. Mum always told me I shouldn't eat in the toilet, but this rule doesn't apply if you a bunkered down in one for the night.

What if I need to vomit & I'm in a taxi?
No one should ever try to use a plastic bag while drunk. It's a hazard. There is only one thing you can do if you feel like spewing while riding in a cab. Open the door & throw yourself out. I'm not gonna lie, it's going to hurt like fuck. Quite possibly the worst pain you have ever felt in your life if you haven't yet had the pleasure of having your vag torn to bits by a human baby. But it won't hurt as much as the $300 fine the cabbie will sting you with, or the ovary destroying punch to the box you will get from me if I find you. Remember, I am also a self employed taxi vigilante.

What if I'm at someone's house & I run out of toilet paper?
I always take my cellphone to the toilet when I'm out. Not only is toilet lightening great for facebook self portrait pics, but it will be your life line if you run out of toilet paper. I don't like poking around through people's cupboards so if I run short on the bog paper which happens to me a lot due to my high level of consumage, I send out an SOS text message to anyone in the house that can help me. I even have it templated into my phone.

How do I get rid of a My Little Pony tattoo without have it lazered off?
It seems unfair that people should hold this against you for a bad choice made in your days of less awesome. People make mistakes.You have 3 options.

Option 1: Take to the fucker with a pen & cover it with some of your own original art.

Option 2: Bandage it up & tell people it's an old wound that never heals & too grotesque for prying human eyes. When they ask what happened tell them you got bitten by a rabies monkey while fighting off a group of angry baboons that were trying to eat a small child in Southern Africa. Don't tell this lie to a doctor. Don't adapt the lie for the purpose of making the story more awesome. And NEVER take the bandage off.

Option 3: Chop your arm off.

I hope you enjoyed this weeks WWBD feature. I am going to try & make this a regular thing. But most probably not. I forget things a lot more than I used to. This may have something to do with the fact I am turning 32 next weekend. I feel like I completely lost my 20's? I don't remember any of it & may be slightly grieving right now.

If you want to send me some awesome birthday presents or a written testimony of your love for me, you can email me at bexstard@yahoo.co.nz Your love letters make me weep.

P.S Winner Wednesday giveaway finishes on the 31st of this month. So keep on commenting & you could possibly win yourself some dope as shit. Remember if you comment on any of this months posts, you must also be a follower of my blog to win or it doesn't count. Scroll to the end of this blog for prize details.

Peace!

How to disguise the bitch flu when on the inside you've clearly lost your will to live

I am fully qualified to dish out this information because I have been actively practising this since Friday last week.

My husband & I call our immune systems our ninjas. This sounds like a big bunch of gay I know, but hear me out. I like to pretend that my body is surrounded by thousands of little ninjas that are consistantly battling with the evil of potential illness. I keep my ninjas strong by eating healthy most of the time, exercising & generally taking good care of myself.

However, once in a while I have a moment of weakness & I fuck with my ninjas superpowers by plying them with alcohol. Or a sneaky fag. Hey I'm human, don't judge me.

This blatant ninja abuse basically kills them or at least makes them so piss mad that they go on strike. Which in turn opens me up to all the rampant whore bugs raging around me.

It's true, I am a drama queen. Right now I can't breathe out of my nose at all. The snot goblin has claimed ownership of my nose, so when you ring me for your cab I'm all heavy breathing & shit & sound like a phone sex hotline. This is the only way I can breathe right now. If I close my mouth, my lungs won't fill with oxygen & I will die.

My throat feels like I gave the tin man a blow job & he ejaculated millions of small razor sharp tin man sperm into the back of my throat. It hurts me & I'm pretty certain if you could see into the back of my throat, it would be bleeding.

Instead of staying home all day, watching MTV & eating arse cream (when Blake says ice cream, his South African accent makes him say ARSE CREAM. This never gets not funny), I have been manning the fuck up & going to work. It's been tough, I won't lie to you, but I am a soldier of awesome. No bastard head cold will keep me down.

Here are some handy tips to disguise the sick.

1: Make up. This rules the dudes out straight away although I am not judging if you like to wear the lady paint. Strategically applied make up will hide the greatest of sickness. Or beatings. This does get tricky if you have a fever as I did this morning. Perseverance is key. Pay special attention to the skin surrounding the nostrils. Keep that shit moisturised as to prevent leaving a scabby red mess. No amount of slap is going to cover that bacterial infection up. Go balls out on the mascara & eye liner. If you are going to sound like a phone sex worker, you may as well look like one.

2: Use eye drops. The eyes are window to the muthafucking kick of death you are currently receiving. Buy some eye drops & use them. Unless you want to look like you smoked a 30cm long hooter in your lunch break. This has been my one failure in the last 3 days (not smoking a giant doobie). I sat in my chair at my desk on Monday all proud & shit that I was tough enough to come to work, until one of my cabbies came in & said, 'christ you look like shit'. BURN! That was totally my eyes fault.

3: Don't be afraid to spread your sickness around like the clap. Now I'm pretty sure I didn't just walk into an angry invisible ball of flu bugs. Some fucker gave this to me. And because I am kind & don't like to mess with the circle of life, I am going to share mine as hard as I can. Plus if I give it to someone else, theoretically I am getting rid of mine right? Blake's been scoffing that his ninjas are way more hardcore than mine & he definitely will not get sick. I am on a mission to fuck his ninjas over. And there is no low I won't sink to.

4: Where possible, sneeze in private. Sneezing & sneeze farting in front of people is a major red flag to flu doom. Especially if your sneeze is so loud it blows out glass windows. My sneezes are tight & girly. The tightness is the intense automatic ass clenching I do every time I sneeze. This in turn seems to strangle my intestines which sends the stink baff gas bubbles out my colon. Basically my sneezes smell. I can't help this. My body does what it does. Atleast I'm not sharting.

5: Don't plug your nostrils up with tissues & leave them there. Not ok to do in public. This scares people. So I have discovered.

6: If your nose feels like it's dribbling all over your top lip, it probably is. After 3 days of constant snot stream it's easy to get complacent. And there are also times when you think your nose is dripping but it's not. That's called the phantom snot. It always pays to check anyway, just in case. Because no one likes talking to a snot face. Especially when it's tainted green. It's distracting & for those puss bags with weak stomachs, potentially vom inducing.

7: Be nice to people. Unless you're always a loud proud asshole, in that case just be yourself.
Being sick makes mad. More mad than usual. Should I take my grumpy out on people? No I should not.

When I feel poorly, the only person I expect to cry me a muthafucking river is my husband. And my mum. They are legally obligated to care about my well being. I don't write the rules, I just enforce them.

So when a customer rings me up at work, or a kindly driver approaches me for some friendly advice & all I want to do is scream my head off like a woman possessed & spew hot lava in their faces, I have to pretend I am a stroke me nicely stepford wife. It kills me on the inside.

7: When you get home at the end of the day, lay down & die as loudly as possible. None of the rules above apply. As soon as I walk through my front door I do a Bruce Almighty & the powers that be (my own hands) rip my work uniform right off me. To be replaced by my pyjama's, hoody & sick puss face.

Once in the comfort of my home it's all on. I whinge, moan, snot on everything & pretend I am dying in the most dramatic way possible. I make Blake tickle my back & make me hot lemon & honey drinks & I sleep on & off for the remainder of the day. I sneeze fart loudly, snore like a there's a weed whacker stuck at the back of my throat, I build a dam of tissues up each nostril & I let my shit all hang out. I also choose this time to text every one I know & tell how sick I am. My wilted ego needs some stroking. I want them to feel bad for me.

8: Embrace the sickness. You have done this to yourself. You owe it to your dead ninjas to see this bitch out & feel the pain. You could jam Vit C down your pie hole like a E popping crack whore, but it's too late now, the oranges & chicken soup won't save you. The damage is already done.

Be brave & try to keep shit ticking over. It takes mammoth effort & commitment but you can trick your ninjas into thinking that everything's normal & before you know it they are back up & ready to fight, for your right, to party. This is what I keep telling myself. Don't Stop Believing.

Sorry guys but I can't turn the self pity off like a tap. Humor me for a bit.

Peace!

Saturday Morning Shit List: June 16th actually posted on Monday because I was too busy dying.

1: An Air NZ plane gets hit by lightning mid flight. This happened a couple of days ago. If I was on that plane I would have been completely hysterical & more than likely attempted to chop my way out. With my cold hard ninja hands.

I not a huge fan of flying but I will suck it up & do it anyway if it's the only mode of transport available to get me to my destination. However you won't find me leading a conga line of joy down the aisles.

Thankfully the plane was landed safely some place I'm not 100% sure of. And the scared shitless passengers were then hoarded on to another plane to continue on their journey. As a gesture of goodwill, good old Air NZ gave the passengers one free drink each. Nothing says 'awesome, I'm so glad you didn't die today' like a free drink. I would be demanding danger money. Shitheads.

2. Haters. AKA people who have chronic asshole disease.
I've been the target of some hate & assholism this week involving my blog & my bosses & someone that clearly doesn't like me for whatever reason that may be. This someone is a person that I've trusted in the past, has been a friend, co-worker & even invited to my wedding. Not sure what their beef is but regardless of all the unwanted drama, it's come to nothing. Because I haven't actually done anything wrong. A lawyer has even verified that point on my behalf.

I nearly let it get to me but thought better of it. I'm guilt free & won't sink to the malicious game playing level to which she has sunk. Cos you know what, I am way better than that.

I get that not everyone is going to like or agree with the things I write about. Solution.....Do yourself & me a favour, DON'T READ IT! It's that easy.

3. People with facebook profile pics of them pashing their lover/boyfriend/husband/girlfriend/he-bitch
I get it ok, someone fucking likes you. Congratulations. Are you really that much of a douche that you need to parade you & your beloveds spittle exchange as your profile picture? I don't want to see that shit! Do you know what I do if someone does this.....I delete their ass. Because they just earned themselves 100 retard points on Becky's scale of cool. And god help you if I see tongue.

5. Half shaved heads. Back in the 80's & early 90's I remember very clearly a style of hair cut called 'The Undercut'. The undercut was a statement haircut that told the world 'I'm so badass & clearly don't give a fuck about anything'. It consisted of someone (usually their mum) shaving all their hair away from around the base of the crown & leaving all the long hair hanging down from the top. I thought it was absolute shit house & subsequently teased & de-friend anyone who attempted to rock it that henious hair crime. Most of the boys (& a couple experimental girls) in my hood had it done. Dicks.

Fast forward nearly 20 years later & hello...............

image source

Obviously our girl here is attractive, but I don't get the hair man? It looks like someone started shaving & got bored half way. OR she is undecided about what length hair she wants so decides to have half & half. I don't like it. I find it gender confusing. Nor do I like the wolf vest she's wearing. In fact I've just completely ripped this person to shreds. She needs to maybe rethink her whole image.

5: Husbands that empty the dishwasher & leave the contents sitting on the kitchen bench. For days.
Don't think I need to reiterate on this much. My man, bless him, empties the dishwasher. That's his chore. And while I appreciate his help, he never ever puts the actual dishes away. Instead he leaves them sitting on the bench 'to dry'. It's like he selectively forgets where everything goes.

I've decided to put a sign on the front of the dishwasher drawer. This isn't the best photo representation but just before I took this he put all our plastic containers that had been sitting on the bench for the last week back in the cupboard in which it belongs. Don't even get me started on why he must have 50 different varieties of  herbal tea. It all just taste like hot flower water to me.

6: The Whistley Nose. I have been plagued with a rogue bogie the last few days that seems to be hiding high up in my nasal cavity. At night when I'm in bed asleep & breathing in/out my nose, it causes me to sound like a modern day pied piper. Except small children don't follow me dancing gaily down the road. Instead I have an angry sleep deprived husband who lays beside me trying to contemplate how humane it is to suffocate your wife while she sleeps. He reckons last night I whistled Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. I didn't even know I knew that one?

7: People who can't stop smiling. Seriously being happy is not the issue here. Having a constant smarmy grin plastered on your goofy face 24/7 is so bloody annoying. I remember in my experimental days of old once taking a herbal high called Smileys. Apart from grinding my teeth down to powder, having limitless amounts of energy, & the I want to kill myself depression of the come down, I have never smiled so much in my entire life. Hence the name 'Smiley'. Seriously, that night, my whole family could have been murdered & I wouldn't be able to NOT smile. This is the sort of non stop smiling I can't handle. People who will smile on through the shitballs of misery.

Here is an example of someone who can't stop smiling & annoys the fuck out of me.
Her name is Amber. She is a contestant on New Zealand's Next Top Model. Yes we have one. And it's bad.

I want to punch her just to see if she will stop smiling. I don't believe she will. It's not a mega watt smile but it's consistant. Like all the motherflippin time.

If you would like to see an entire 2:30 minutes worth of Amber smiling her head, please go HERE. This will only play to NZ residents. Not sure why.

Amber needs to express her emotions through facial expression. Or just do nothing at all. Like this guy, also a fellow NZNTM contestant.

I love everybody but that is shit load of big boofy ginga right there.

8: Muthafucking RIDICULOUS shoes.
This is another fashion fuck up that I don't get. When I go out, I like to have a good time. Preferably without killing myself in the process. Remember how I always go on about hazards etc, well bitches some of you wear the hazards. On your feet.

And when I hear stories of people twisting ankles/breaking their face/falling down a flight of stairs......I laugh on the inside. Not an evil laugh. More of a mild tsk tsk shake of the head disappointed I'm smarter than you laugh.

Why am I smarter than you.....because I wear sensible shoes when I'm drunk. I remove the hazard right from the get go. And dudes I have worn heels out & I walk like one of those unfortunate muscular dystrophy kids. I don't want to be disrespectful by clearly walking exactly like them when I don't even have it. That's just mean.

9: Ecuadorian food markets. They eat hamsters.
Along with the food network channel, that we have already ascertained in a previous post is my porn, I also watch a lot of the Travel Channel. Particularly in winter when I need to be dragged kicking & screaming from my house everyday just to go to work. I love seeing all the places in the world you can go & fantasising about how I may one day go there too.

I won't be going to Ecuador. In Ecuador they eat Hamsters. Which you buy still alive & all hamstery from the local food markets. Along with baby chickens, ducks, normal sized chickens, goats, cows etc. I died a little bit on the inside watching this. You buy the animal alive. Which means you have to do the slaughtering.

I then got shown step by step how to prepare the hamster Ecuadorian styles. It's skinned, gutted & deep fried. With it's head still on. I won't be going to Ecuador. Ever. Not even if someone paid for me to go. In my country, we don't eat hamster. Or any other household pet. Savages.

Just so you know I'm not lying, here is a photo of BBQ Hamster. If you have one as a pet or love animals hardout, I suggest you look away now & scroll the fuck down.

10: That South African chick who cried basically the entire way through her wedding to that ugly ass Prince whoever. She look like she wanted to die.
In my country, plastering every single woman's mag on the stands is various photo's of this bitch crying. On my wedding day I cried happy tears for about 1 minute when saying my wedding vows. After that I could not wipe the shit eating grin off my face (non drug induced). It was to date the happiest day of my life.


Princess Charlotte looked like she was going to her own execution. Fair play lady. If I was marrying that sack of baldy ass I would be crying too. I hate to say it but you really didn't think this one through Charlotte.

11: England Rugby Teams second rugby jersey for the world cup.
I flaming piss mad about this one. So mad that I can't write anything. My mum tells me sometimes it's best to say nothing at all when you're that angry. This is one of those times mum.

Just an FYI for you folk that have no idea what I'm on about, England Rugby teams second game jersey for the world cup is black. With a red rose on it & maori patterns. It deserves it's place on my shit list because it is EPICALLY SHITHOUSE.

NB: I still love English people. My love for the black jersey just makes me do some crazy shit ya'll.

12: Electric Shocks
When I was a kid I used to get growled at for kicking things all the time. The fact was, there was a very legit reason for the kicking, I detest electric shocks. I've never understood the science behind them, mainly because I don't care, but for some reason, I get zapped off frigging everything.

Car door, door handles, keys, faucet handles, people, animals, light switches, my laptop, the fridge, bird cages, my microphone the list goes on.......................because of this obvious electrical infliction I have I am constantly test smacking stuff before I grab it. I look like a mental but dam it I will avoid getting zapped at all cost.

One time I kissed my niece hello (I didn't test smack her first) & zapped her a banger on her little lips. She cried & I'm pretty certain that's why she only tolerates me in small doses. Because I hurt her. What an asshole. Anyone else have this problem?

I am feeling below par, & I would just like to say after reading all your comments, I am so stoked I have never had a urinary tract infection, or pink eye in both eyes. Because I hear it's way worse than a shitty old head cold. Jeeze I don't what you guys get up to ay.........maybe stopping boning so much & protect your pillows from rampant faecal dust? Someone told me you get the pink eye from people baffing on your pillows?

Thanks for the love though you's fullas.

Peace!

Bitches, I'm dying.

This is what karma does after you get all high & mighty & go round blagging that you never get sick. And how your immune system is all ninja & shit.

You get sick. It happens to me once a year.

This is me a week ago today. Respectable.

Oh how shit can go downhill in one week......... 

I sit for long periods of time breathing heavily in & out my mouth, drooling a little bit because my whole fucking face feels like it's made of a slab of stone, with tissues hanging from each nostril & I say to Blake,'babe, I think it's my time'.

And do you know what he says to me!! Go the fuck to sleep.

Sheeit.

Man flu aint got nothing on me. I am a shithouse sick person. Everything tastes like salt or nothing which makes me angry because god I love to eat. What's the point when you can enjoy it. I may as well eat raw potatos for a few days.

Cheese doesn't taste like cheese.

Chilli taste like lumpy beany nothing. I made a pot of chilli this afternoon. With meat in it. I tasted it before & it was just burny hot nothing.

Grapes still taste ok. But not how a grape should.

I am miserable. And tomorrow I am going to my nephews 3rd birthday party. I love him. Such a gentle soul of a child. But to be honest, I would rather have my head jammed inside a box full of angry killer bees than go to a kids birthday right now. Even though my love for this child is bigger than mountains.

But I will go, because I just got to.....(sung to the Dione Warwick's group singalong song 'That's What Friends Are For')

Keep shining, Keep smiling
Sethy you can always count on me, for sure
That's what Becky's for

For good times & bad times, I'LL BE ON YOUR SIIIIIIIIIDE FOREVER MOOOOOOOORE
That's what Becky's for

By the way don't eat the cheese rolls. I can't be quite sure due to my delirium but there may have been some flu germs go into the cheese sauce when I had my sneezing/farting/nearly shit my pants fit in the kitchen.

Peace!

P.S If I slip into a deep coma during the night, please make sure someone plucks my chin hairs & makes sure I have mascara on at all times.

My never ending bullshitisms for why I can't go to the gym today

Over the last couple of months I have come up with some ridic excuses of why I can't work out. Most weeks I make it to the gym 4-5 times. This week I have sucked. I blame the jager party on Saturday night for completely ripping my motivation from my warm bloody carcass.

My work out gym nazi husband finds my excuses hilarious, but most of the time annoying. He does give me snaps for my creativity though. Fucking ay.

Seriously, I am your go to guy for anti anything billboard signs.

1: "My stomach is eating me from the inside out. I am pretty sure this is what death feels like". (said whilst sprawled face down on our bed with my head buried in my pillows). Half an hour later I can be located in the kitchen eating crackers.

2: "I'm too sad today. I just want to go home & be sad in my pyjamas". This was a relevant & common excuse pre the day I discovered that I had actually been promoted. Now I have nothing. My life is good.

3: "I can't. My bleeder has arrived. I'm scared I may leak in public". This one ALWAYS works. My bleeder is more schizophrenic than Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind.

4: "Well we can either go to the gym or stay home & mate. Your choice". This one always works too. I am married to a younger man. The dick rules his life & he can't do anything about it. Nuff said.

5: "I may fart on the treadmill so much that a little poop will come out". My god there have been so many close calls. I swear I have some sort of anal malfunction. City Fitness, you need to move your toilets DOWNSTAIRS. No one should have to complete an obstacle course in the way of a thousand fricking stairs just to answer the call of nature.

6: "You can't make me go today because I may stab someone for real. I can't be trusted in public. You should probably lock the door now & go hide yourself in the bathroom". This works well if I am rocking back in forth in a fetal position on the bed. Rocking while lying down is not easy, just so you know. But if I am committed enough to my cause, I can do anything.

7: "The veloceraptor seagulls ate my gym shoes". After I witnessed Seagull Fight Club, nothing those crazy fuckers do anymore surprises me.

8: "I lost my swipe card. They won't let me in without it". This one worked until he found my keys on the dining room table that has my swipe card attached to them. Bugger it.

9: "Jesus came to me in my dreams & said I mustn't work out today because I need to have a study day to prepare myself mentally for the rapture". I think has been by far the most pathetic excuse. When I am desperate I can't control the messed up words that spew forth from my gullet.

10: "Bear Grylls said I shouldn't". Love you my nose twin! Bear is the man. I can't disobey him.

11: "I have to work late". I don't really. I actually go to my sisters place & hang.

12:  "I want to stay home & watch re-runs of the royal wedding". This one wasn't good. In fact this one nearly resulted in me dropping dead from exhaustion. He hates the royal family that much that he worked me so hard I developed minor shin splints.

13: "I'm feeling like crap. Do you want to be responsible for my death?". I constantly feel the need to whip out the marital obligation lines. I think we've established my feelings about compromise. I would rather lick the scrotum of an obese sweaty ethnic man than compromise. Compromise to me means FAIL. Of epic proportions. It makes me feel a little bit sick on the inside when I lose. So sick in fact that I am going to re structure the word in to 'Vompromise'.

14: "You can't make me". Accompanied with throwing of things, flailing of hands, droopy stroke-like bottom lip & tears. I can chuck GOOD tantrum. And cry on demand. I challenge any 3 year old to take me on.

15: "I have been brain raped by 40 angry old men for the last 8 hours. It's not going to happen". When he wasn't working at all, most days I came home angry, resentful & tired. I said mean things. Such terrible mean things that he didn't speak to me for an hour (we are real honest to god soul mates so our fights never last more than an hour. It's pathetic). This got me out of going to the gym by default. And made feel like the biggest asshole. I would rather have burnt my ass to pieces & maybe shat myself a little bit on a dam treadmill.

What's you best excuse for getting you out of anything? Or what would you be willing to resort to to get your own way?

Peace!