I spent $45 at the fruit & veg store on Wednesday. I bought 5 tomato's for $9. This shits me severely & caused me to have a slightly resentful rant at my in house vegetarian. I don't give a giant donkey shit that he feels so great he could ninja kick a door in right now, his new chosen lifestyle is making us broke. Learn to love the meat again baby. Please. Or we will have to start wiping our asses on our clothes because we won't be able to afford the mammoth amounts of bog roll our rectal duet chows through on a weekly bases.
Oh & the grapes you misey feckers, they had seeds in them. After the sign simply stated NO SEEDS. This is called false advertising you dicks. (this rant is being channeled at the owners of 'Eat Me', our local produce store). When you find that expensive & healthy looking pile of human excrement dusted in grape pips waiting outside the front of your store tomorrow morning, that's from me. Consider the message delivered. Becky doesn't like being tricked.
Lordy fucking help us, a bunch of twatty poms have jumped on the retard wagon. I sat & watched Geordie Shore on Tuesday night. It was so bad that I couldn't look away. Behold the knobs & knobettes, marinating in a spa of dirty vagiola infections, fake tan & giant egos.
|Get your translations here|
Luckily Blake wasn't home because if he catches me watching this shitrot I insist he commits extreme domestic abuse on my person. And the most annoying thing, I felt like I was watching a foreign reality show because I literally had no idea what the hell any of them were saying. AND THEY WERE SPEAKING ENGLISH! They need to subtitle that bitch up so I know what everyone's saying. I was like this confused & somewhat evil looking fox......an because he is an English fox he shall be speaking with an cockney English accent......
Is bloody boring. And takes so long. Especially when there is more of you to moisturise than most normal sized people. It's like a triathlon. Sometimes I wish I was a shark. Their skin never gets dry.
I've been having dry lip issues again this week. On Monday I was so desperate for some dry lip relief that I asked a taxi driver if he had some. Not expecting that he would say yes. To my surprise he did indeed have a chapstick in his vehicle. He went & got it & presented it to me like he was holding a huge golden nugget. He stood in front of me waiting with baited breath for me to apply his shitty lip chap to my lips. It looked like it had been floating in a sewer pond for a year. But I was that fucking desperate I ripped the lid of it & smeared its contents all over my mouth. Afterwards, with the hideous old mouldy tube of chapstick sitting in front of my face on the counter, I felt a bit dirty about the whole situation. You don't share people's chapsticks man. I may as well of shared a needle with him & then licked his hands clean. Ew.
Anyway I now have my own little tub of blistex in my handbag. Which very soon will go & hide in the mysterious place where all the 50 million other lip glosses/lip chaps/lip creams I have bought in the last few years have disappeared to.
4. The word 'Compromise'.
Blake wants to go to a Springbok game in September. I want to go to Foo Fighters in December. We can't go to both. Everyone says marriage is about compromise. Well compromise can piss off because I say marriage is about who can take the best hiding. I will keep you informed on this current battle.
5. Spam links on Facebook.
Now I don't normally 'Like' any groups on Facebook but I came across one aptly named 'Not clicking on spam links because I'm not a retarded fuck'. I couldn't agree more. I have NEVER clicked on a spam link. And I've been roaming the cyber streets of Facebook for many a year.
It baffles me to the point of amusement at why people are compelled to click on this shit. Actually no I retract that, it doesn't baffle me. It kind of grosses me out because do you know what it tells me about some of you? You are a bit disturbed. A disturbed person who thinks they are going to see baby coming out of a swollen vag, or a teen caught on camera playing with herself. Or some random on a roller coaster being beheaded. Or lets not forget the 'You will never eat McDonald's again after looking at this' spam. You are a curious monkey. The solution: Don't click on this shit. Easy.
When I was a Myspace kid, I had my account hacked & I logged on one morning to find my profile page had been replaced with a wall of dick. Not just any old dick either. It was bad.
6: The Fannypod Lady
A lady comes in to my work once a month to take away the fanny pod. Now for those of you that don't know, the fanny pod is the special box-like contraption in the bathroom where female can dispose of menstruation products. Me, well I just flush everything. I pride myself on blocking the fuck out of every toilet on this planet. It's just something I strive for.
Anyway, she always brings me a small packet of candy. It's like she is trying to thank me for the fact she possibly has the worst job in the universe. But I never eat the candy nor do I touch the packet the candy is in, because she has touched it with her fanny pod hands. (she wears latex gloves but I don't know where her sheathed hands have been).
When ever she comes in to work, I like to stand in honour & shout to the masses 'The Fanny Pod Lady is here'. This is met but skeezy chuckles from the men folk. I am considering planning a picket line for the next time she comes in & standing out the front of our offices with a sign saying 'Down with Bleeders!'. Fanny Pod lady, whoever you are, my unwanted uterus lining salutes you.
FYI Americano's. Here in Hemisphere South, Fanny = Vag. Not Bottom.
7: Chronic Tweeters.
Do not be mistaken, by all means twat away. Most of the time I enjoy reading all the witty one liners & informative 'OMG i just saw a dog' tweets. Hell, share your innermost thoughts if you feel a deep urgency to do so because I really give a shit about every moment of your life. But for the love of J.Christ please stop doing it every 2 minutes. This is not a fun time. Especially for the people that have to read the shit.
If I unfollow you on Twitter it's because I'm sick of your constant mundane shit talk. I would expect someone to do the same to me. Except I don't have time to twatter constantly all day long because I actually do stuff at my work. And when I'm not at work I do other stuff. Like eat. And sleep.
Scott Stapp makes me want to kill myself. If I die before any of ya'll & you consider in your head, for one moment, that a Creed song would go down a treat at my funeral, I will haunt your muthafucking ass til the end of time. I will also argue with anyone til the end of time about how shithouse this band is. The only reason Creed made it on to my shit list today is because I heard 'With Arms Wide Open' on the radio not 5 minutes ago. The radio is now lying in pieces outside on the road. See, that's what happens.
Any dude who stands like that when he sings, & he does stand like that when he sings, deserves to be beaten to death. With his own homo arm. He is an epic man fuck.
9: Holey Undies
Unlike the rest of my female friends & family members with their matching panty/bra sets, I don't give a fuck about underwear. All I know is I have to keep the beave monster covered during the day in case it eats someone. Because Blake says so. I buy a 10 pack of cotton undies from the local Warehouse (similar to Walmart) when I have to. They are comfortable, inexpensive & don't give me yeast infections.
The problem with me is that I will keep wearing the shit out of them even when they are way past form. I'm talking like ripped from front bum to back bum. To the point where the whole front part is flapping down onto my thigh like a modern day loin cloth. It is only when they no longer stay on the area in which they are meant to be covering & end up a lumpy wad of material all bunched up in the crotch of my pants do I consider biffing them out. I'm not even embarrassed. I believe in getting my monies worth.
Just to show you how embarrassed I am not, here is some photo evidence. Because I know you fucking want it.
Yep I can't believe I did that either. I am on a downward spiral to publicly shame & humiliate myself as much as I possibly can so why stop now. I am wearing a pair of my munted underwear around my face like a goatee. I will be famous one day. You witnessed it all here first.
Just to clarify, these are clean & only 2 days old. Yet my giant undie munching ass has already torn the elastic from around one of the legs. It's true I have a pirahna jacksie. They will be good for at least another 2 months. If not for actually wearing as undies, they serve as a bloody cracker chin & frontal neck region warmer.
Up until last night it had been on my list of 'foods to try before I die'. Well I nailed that bitch & it was the biggest anti climax. EVER. More disappointing than the time I dated the real hot personal trainer who became known amongst my peers as 30 second guy (yep girls a bitches).
It was like eating small balls of soft flavourless nothingness. Now I'm sure if I had an Italian Nona or Aunty Helen Webb to make it for me it would be awesomeballs, but I don't have a Nona. Or a Nana. And Helen lives in South Africa. Boo.
Righto. I have a giveaway running until the end of the month. Go to the end of this post to see what the prize pack includes. And please read the terms & conditions HERE so you can have a crack at winning.
Have a wicked weekend bitches!