Reemed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To which he replied 'Baby just do it'.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I

Thanksgiving or not, what are you thankful for today?

Peace & fizzy bung holes,

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

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



Hatin' On: Bare Naked Beaves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Peace, love & hairy bangers

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

FYI - Where Bogies Go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace!

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

Excessive Consumption

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

No?

Well I have. But of course.

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

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

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

RIGHT ON!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace!

Sorry for not reading the rules.

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

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

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

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

MIKE SOMEONE MADE ME DRY HUMP & RUB MY ASS MUSCLES

ALL OVER THIS. I WAS AWESOME.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace!

Mike someone kicked my ass.

Today I had my first real hardout session with my personal trainer. And he handed my ass to me. With a smile on his face.

Somewhere between the 5 trillion asshole ripping squats & stepping up & down on an everest high box with weights in my hands, I looked at him through my stingy blindy sweat tears & asked him if he'd ever been bashed by a girl. And he says, 'people tell me they hate me at first, then after a month they love me'. With a smile on his face. I swear I wanted to smash him, then pash him. Cos he just wouldn't stop smiling at me.

THEN he made me leg press 65kg for about 20 minutes, slowly. Bastard. I have never felt anything like it in my life. It burned like fire in my thighs. I felt drunk from the waist down & in the generous 1 minute breaks he made me squat again. Shit man, way to grind a girl.

When I came home, I face planted on the bed in agony. If someone rang me up to tell me the fire breathing dragon was heading straight for my house to incincerate me, I wouldn't even try & run. Take me now fire breathing dragon. I'm no good to anyone.

After about half an hour of dying I decided I was hungry so I did a catepillar crawl to the fridge & somehow managed to heat up some rice & beef curry shiznizzle I'd cooked up the previous eve. I did all this from laying on the floor. The I ate it, & laid some more but this time on the couch.

Eventually the time came that I had to physically stand up (I needed a dam piss) & bugger me sideways with a tack covered totem pole, my back was all shagged up the wazoo. For reals. Something down in the left side of my back just above my left anus cheek screamed in agony. And I nearly did a vomit on the carpet.

It seems that I may have over done it slightly. Perhaps during the 5 trillion squats maybe? And you can bet my broken to bits ass that if I do a no show at the gym tomorrow, Mike someone will be ringing me up asking where his ho at? And I will say yo Mike someone, you broke me brother love. ANd he'll go B-Money get your beasty self back to my gym cos I is gonna work you sunshine. And I will go ok Mike. But I will be doing everything from the floor ok.

Compromise yeah?

So I'm parked up on the couch like an old granny bear with a pillow nestling my battered back/ass region. And then I got mad because I watched Selena Gomez sing on the EMA's & she sucks yo. I can sing way better than her!! But then a random Irish guy streaked & I saw his scrotum. That made me slightly happier. ANd then Biebs belted one out & he can actually sing but I still would rather be eaten out by a large barracuda fish than listen/watch him sing. He's too perfect. It's not right & it makes me feel all dirty.

And then I saw the old Pure Energy naked mountain puncher. I hate this guy with a passion & am visually assualted by his advert atleast 20 times a night. Firstly who the fuck punches mountains so hard that the top pops open like one of those fancy kitchen trash bins with the spring lid?? With no clothes on!!! He thinks people want him. And he thinks I would chose him over my own husband. Dude, go fuck yourself. And start running cos my fire breathing dragon is coming to burn you.

If you would like to know what I'm trippin about, go here & watch this ad. I dare you to tell me that he is not an A Grade dicksmoker. Everytime I see this ad I need to be physically restrained. Which is a waste of time if I'm already broken. Ay Mike someone!!!

Before I go I would like to you to please view 2 funny videos that I have myself viewed today.
The first one I don't think needs any explanation, clearly this is something you would watch & think of me. I laughed until I cried Saturday afternoons wine right outta my face. I like to call this 'Farty Poo Poo Hippo'. If you don't laugh, you have no soul.

The second video was sent to me by a lovely german lass called Helena. She emailed me a few weeks back & said she saw this vid & thought of me. I cried laughing again. Helena from Germany, I love you. And I watched it again this afternoon while dying on the bed post gym raping. It made me forget the pain for 3 minutes.

Right I'm off to bed. I'm going to slither down on to the floor & crawl there. And I hope that tomorrow brings me a newer betterer back muscle. Cos tomorrow I'm going to go punch me some mountains.

Peace!

P.S Adam Lambert, you slaugtered Queen on the EMA's. I want to suffocate you with your leather homo coat then melt your layers of makeup off with my cigarette lighter. Douchebag.
P.P.S PLease forgive any spelling errors. Spell check was being a moody hooker. I am pretty sure I did good though.

Prizes make me jizz. Quietly. On the inside. Ssssssssssh.

SO this week I got my first blog award for being a versatile blogger (this means I talk about more than just fecal related matters). Not just once, but 3 times, from 3 different people!!  Normally I don't get excited about awards, not unless I get an actual present out of it. Call me selfish & ungrateful but that's just how I roll. I like me some prizes.

However, while I am grateful to receive such an accolade from equally kickass blogging bitches (I would so dry hump you guys right now!!), I try to maintain a low key coolness level at all times. Even though on the inside I am screaming with happiness like a hyena in a meat factory.

No really guys, I am stoked thanks. I am surrounded by greatness. Seriously funny people who I am proud to call my friends. Even though we haven't met in real life, I plan on physically touching (meeting) each & every single one of my blog buddies at some stage during the remainder of my life. I may even shit in their toilet if they're lucky.

And you know y'all are welcome in my hood anytime. My husband is shy, but I am not. I will even take you on the infamous tour of all the public places I have pissed on/at during my life in Nelson, particularly in my teens & early twenties. There are many & if I get some more of these awards I am going to insist the council have sign posted walking tour in my honour. God dam right!!

One of the duties of a Versatile Blog Award winner is to pay the shit forward. But not before telling you some things about myself that you may not know.

1. I get electric shocks off everything. It's complete bullshit because I bloody hate them. Seems I'm highly charged & besides kicking the fuck out of everything I touch (including people. Yes I once lightly slapped a child before I went to hug her) before I actually touch it, there ain't nothing I can do about it.

2. Somedays I want to punch my husband in the face because I love him SO MUCH. That's love right there. It's also true that Blake kinda sorta slightly resembles Kevin Jonas of the Jonas brothers on some occasions. This both disturbs & excites me.

3. I love the smell of firecrackers, Xmas crackers (even they are so obviously shithouse), buses, Frangipanis, matches, whiteboard pens, petrol, coffee & KFC.

4. My top 10 favourite things are (in no particular order) kiwi onion dip & chips, Blake & my family, summer, cigarettes, KFC, my BFF Kylie, Foo Fighters, Rugby, buying clothes, the feeling I have when I get home from the gym (I think it's called pride?).

5. I would like to be a mum one day soon. Once I'm down to double digits weight wise, me & hubs are getting our baby making bang on. Tomorrow I will change my mind. But we will do it if the universe lets us. Out of curiosity mainly. I want to see how crazy the kid will be.

6. I like to read. I am ashamed to admit that I have read all the Twilight books. And I loved them. However the Twilight movies crushed my dreams. But I will make the effort to go & see them all.

7. I've lost 16kg since Christmas last year.

8: I hate getting dressed up but will do it if I am either bribed with money, or forced to at gun point. I will be rockin jandals (thongs, flip flops) hoody & mini skirt even when I'm a dirty old crumble.

9. Next year I'm off to Argentina for 3 weeks. And I can't wait.

10. I am a qualified Massage Therapist (the non dick touching kind).

Right so I'm handing on theVersatile Blogger award to some peeps that have me shitting with laughter easily on a weekly basis. And if you guys (the bloggers that I'm about to bequeath with excellence) have already received this award from someone else, tough shit motherfuckers. You are getting another from the NZ self claimed queen of poo/scrotum/toilet awesome.

My girl Johi at Confessions of a Cornfed Girl. I want to be lesbiano's with her but she lives too far away for any actual fanny banging action. Plus we are both married & neither us dig the beave. Oh well, we can be virtual lesbianos.

I am 99.9% certain that Tazer Warrior Princess is my cyber twin. She is a funny ass hooker & I'm afraid of what would happen if we ever actually met. I'm putting my money on fire being involved.

Rachelle from My Hips Don't Lie has lost a shit tonne of weight. And this girl is a lady yo. The one thing I love about her apart from being dam frigging inspiring to my own weight loss mish is that even though she is a lady & compared to me is way proper, she always comments on my disgusting posts & often drops the odd f-bomb. LOVE her!

Heather Heartless as she likes to be known from The Randomist, cracks my shit up hard. She hasn't posted in a while. I fear she may have been eaten by Ron Perlman who played the hairy ginga lion man in the late 80's TV series, Beauty & the Beast. I hope this award will reach her in the afterlife because I like her a lot.

Lastly, my pommie bro Kev aka Social Assassin. He is my penised equal. He is smart. He can play guitar. He can eat fire. He can write a mean gangsta rap/poem. His wife is equally as choice as he is. He sends me emails sometimes that are so funny, I wee a little bit in my pants. He is a chef & has promised to make me eggs bene with hollandaise one day. For reals, he will be a lifelong friend.

So there you go. 5 blogger you should be following right now. In saying that, any blog on my blog roll I follow because they got a bit of sumthin' sumthin' I like. And many of them I have become good mates with.

It was Guy Fawkes celebration in NZ last night. For those of you that don't know what that is, it's the one night of the year that everyone goes apeshit with firecrackers. I spent the afternoon sitting in the sun with my sister Hayley & friend Amber drinking wine. Then I got tired & wine fucked so went home. I spent post 9pm with my face squashed up to our sliding doors watching the sky light up with legal explosives. It was beautiful *tear. I will save the story for why I'm not allowed to let off fire works for another time.

Hope y'all had a badass weekend!

Peace!

P.S I just watched a vet stick a thing up a tiny unconscious monkeys anus. New Zealand Sunday night TV, can't beat it.

Hatin' on: Piss (The wee kind)

Because I hate so many things & the white hatin' rage will probably end me before my time, I've decided to start a new series** of posts simply titled "Hatin' On". Venting is healthy for me because if I keep it on the inside I might shank some folk. And I just can't stand the thought of not being able to bang my husband due to the fact I'm confined to the inside a women's prison/mental institution. In theory, I do this for him.

** Yeah yeah I know I always say I'm starting a new series of posts on something or rather, do 2, then change to something else. I am woman, therefore I can change my mind as many times as I like. But I'm really going to try hard with this one ok. Because dang I love to hate me some shit.

Also sometimes I have nothing better to talk about than the things that shit me chronic. It's a never ending list. Why not share it.

Piss, Urine, Wee, Pee, Tinkle, Whiz, Leakage, Fanny Juice (the non good kind of juice), Bladder Syrup, Pissflap dribble, Vulva water, is annoying. I don't like it. I wish I didn't have to piss but after trying many times to not piss, it always ends badly. After my leak this morning I got thinking about all the things about piss that piss me off.

Piss stinks. Especially that first one in the morning. And cock monsters, you win the piss stink contest hands down. Your piss reeks way worse than a beave monster piss. You could use your potent man piss to remove paint.

I know all about stinky man wee. Because I share a toilet (as you all know) with 40 men. Some whom like to spray like a tom cat all over the toilet floor. I hate them for this & continually whine about it. I have a dedicated piss mop located in the bathroom which I use to mop up the willy dribble. Before I leave this earth I plan on smacking each piss-on-floor offender in the mug with said piss mop. Just because I can.

Wouldn't it be nice if your piss had a purpose. I reckon it should smell like Issey Miyake L'eau Dissey. Or Diesel Loverdose. That way I wouldn't have to spend ridic amounts of money on perfume. Because I would be able to produce my own. From my fanny. This would save me money & make my husband not growl. WIN!

I would also find it convenient if you could bottle your pee & use it as a multipurpose cleaner. I am the spray & wipe queen. Blake calls my bottle of Eco Clean my 'cappin gun'. I hang it like a pistol from my waist like a rhinestone cowboy & shoot the place up. Smite me motherfuckers, I like me a clean house. It ain't a crime. I'm just a germ Nazi & sleep better at night knowing that my kitchen is fecal dust free. You can't see fecal dust but trust me, it is everywhere.

For all your drug test passing needs. Synthetic Unisex Piss.

Purchase online for only $35. Get out!

Old Lady's smell of piss. They can't help it. When you start getting on in life, the fanny bags start to fail as does everything else. They leak like a busted garden hose. And they try to disguise the smell with geriatric perfume. You should know old lady's (& men) that we can still smell your leakage. Except instead of just smelling of wees you now smell like wees & roses. The weefume concoction is strangely comforting, reminds me of Nana's (LOVE Nana's hard) but also unpleasant. I have mixed emotions about this one. And those fanny pads you wear, yeah they may soak up your leakage, but that shit smells too. Like stale wee.

Urine is a by product of shit (not actual shit) filtered through the kidneys & expelled by the body because we don't need it. But people drink it because it's apparently good for you? This mixed message is confusing to me.

FACTS ABOUT PISS YOU MAY NOT KNOW:

• The Romans used to use wees to whiten their teeth. Fuck that.
• Ancient Indians have some religious text that claim piss massaged in to ones skin is a good time. Fuck that too. 
• In China, the urine of young boys is claimed to be curative for all sorts of health problems. They also douse a new born baby's face with pee to protect their skin.
• The French soaked stockings in urine & tied them around their throats to cure strep throat. What the fuck. 
• If you get stung by a jelly fish you are supposed to wee on the stung area. Like Chandler & Joey did to Monica on Friends. If they do it it must work right?
• Lyoto Machida (UFC fighter) drinks his own wee. Because his dad did. And said it's bitchin' son, drink your piss, it will make you strong like lion. And Machida is awesome. My husband wants to BE him. Except minus the pee drinking part. I'm so confused Machida!!!!!!!!!!!

I wish you could use pee to mace people in the face. I've never had my eyes pissed on but I have had eyes that look like piss holes in the snow. One can only guess that having wee in your eyes stings a bit? It's made up of acids & eye burny shit. Why not utilise this in the Police Force? HELLO!

Sometimes in the morning when I'm in the shower washing my goon, little bits of toilet paper come out. Sometimes big bits. I stand in the shower watching the bits of bog paper whirling down the drain thinking did that just come from where I think it came from?

Being a woman & not being able to pee standing up SUCKS. I am not ashamed to admit I have tired & failed more than once. I also pee a lot, which in turn causes me to use a shit tonne of toilet paper, & I apparently wipe with such fury that it causes little bits of toilet paper to get trapped within my normal sized labia's.

I know this is TMI but I just want to know if I'm the only one this happens to? Sometimes I've even found little bits of toilet paper in the bed. It seems my growler is hoarding the toilet paper. For what reason I don't know. Maybe it's in case we have a tree famine & toilet paper can't be produced for a while. My vagina is so smart that it's subconsciously making me store my own. Go me!!

Sexy pissing. Nope don't get this one at all. I once dated a guy who wanted me to take a leak on him. After he shared that fetish request with me, I dropped his ass faster than a aids infested dirty hooker syringe. Golden shower in your face? I would rather be suffocated by a puckered dog anus.

This cracker child obviously got too drunk on Jungle Juice & mistook the cow piss

for a shower. Silly boy. You is gon get a hiding when you get home son.

Pissing the bed is something that I definitely don't do. I'm lucky to have never had issues with bed wetting even as a child. One guy I dated for a few years used to get hella drunk & wee the bed all the dam time. I sucked. And I praise myself for sticking it out for aslong as I did.

When we sleep, do our bladders sleep too? Well mine must & if it does need to be relieved during the night, my brain makes me dream of Tsunamis. Not lying. I dream about Tsunamis & just as the giant wall of water is about to hit me, I wake up & go wees. Coincidence? Lets ask the Dream Dictionary.

To see a tsunami in your dream means that you are being overwhelmed by some repressed feeling or unconscious material that is rising up to the surface. You are experiencing some unhappiness and emotional instability in a waking situation. 

Bullshit dream dictionary!! My life is friggin awesome. Go fuck yourself right in the face.With some god dam piss mace.

What say you about the wees? Is there something in this piss drinking palaver or is it just straight up whack? 

Ok, keeping with today's theme, & seeing as it was a popular giveaway last month, this month I am giving away to one of you beautiful whores, another Pee & Poo plush set. 

Y'all know what to do. Show me some comment love. And I will reward you in return. Read Terms & Conditions here. 

Peace!

 











P.S I hope you found this educational. Don't be too disturbed by my toilet paper hoarding vagina monster. I feel maybe I shouldn't have gone there so publicly but hey, my line of what is ok to share & what is not ok to share is blurry. In fact I don't have one. Why start being proper now.
P.P.S And hey, look on the bright side, at least it's not a toilet paper hoarding bottom monster.
 

The winner is.........& why I will never run a marathon.

Christ this last month has gone fast. And I feel like I have been neglecting you guys. Well just so you know, I haven't been neglecting yous fullas & fullessas at all. Cos I love you. True story.

Life (aka work & rugby) has been hardout raping my attention. Yes the rugby is over but that doesn't mean I'm not still revelling in our epic win. I am allowed to do that for the next 6 months. It's the rules & I challenge anyone to tell me why I can't. You should know I will probably cut you.

And then the weekend just been, I flew to our nations capital of Wellington to hang with my best whore & go shopping. And drink wine. And eat chips. It was fanfuckingtastic!

We got gangsta. (in my pyjamas BOOM)

We drank a shit tonne of vino

And we got crunk. My feet hurt

(I'm half hearted arm flailing at this point. I was ready to go sleeps)

So yeah........ I been busy as yo! But after some time to dwell on things I've realised that I got to keep my shit fresh or you bitches are gona up & leave me.

First things first, the new owner of plush toy Pee & Poo goes to.............comment 67.

I would like to show y'all the random number generator thingy but its being a dickhole & I can't get the photo up on here so everyone just has to trust me now.

Emma, message me on Shitbook or email me bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your postal address & I send you some piss & shit. Awesome. And probably the one & only time I will ever mail some piss & shit without being arrested.

The other night I was watching a piece on the news about a NZ rugby coach that did the Auckland Marathon last weekend to help raise money for one of his players that's going through chemo. I thought shit yeah that's pretty nice thing to do. That was until they interviewed him as he crossed the finish line & he had red blood on his t-shirt similar to this guy. Except way worse.

I turned to my husband & said to him (in all my marathon naivety)

"Someone shot him in the nips with a paintball gun?".

And then one of his mates arrived at the finish line 2 minutes behind him & he too had two big bloody splotches on his white t-shirt.

So I said.....'what in the fuck are those red marks on their shirts?"

Blake tells me that it is in fact from the nipple chafe. Their nipples are bleeding. OH HELL NO!!!! It looked like someone had tried to carve their initials into his bitch tits while he was yogging & clearly slipped with the knife just a lil bit.

I have since found out that this nip bleeding is quite common. I was fucking horrified. And apart from obviously being a 'real suck time' this is another reason why I will never run a marathon.

Another thing I need to tell you is that over the weekend I discovered something to add to my 'GOOD THINGS ASIANS HAVE INVENTED' list. And that would be Coconut Buns. Please try them if you ever  get the chance. Sweet doughy goodness. And way fucking bad for you which is the reason why I won't have them again for a while.

I promise you it will be the best mastication you ever have in your life or top 5 atleast. I would sell things I'm not allowed to sell for some of those Coconut Buns. Like my husbands mean xbox game selection. Or his copius Anime DVD's. Basically all the gay stuff he has way too much of which in turn makes me not like it.

Right I'm off to eat a shitload of crackers in Blakes side of the bed while enjoying my new book. Hopefully the generous & annoying scattering of cracker crumbs that get trapped in his jacksie will remind him to please wear boxers in bed & please stop backing his naked ass crack up on to me like he's parking a bicycle. Marriage is fun.

What you guys been up to? Anyone ever tried Coconut Buns before?



Peace!

P.S A hobo left his skank slippers outside my work & I'm too scared to touch them in case I get hoboitis. Or Hobo AIDS.