Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me. Or just barge right in. While I'm taking a shit. I don't mind.

Wednesday 28th 2011, 8:17am, I was sitting on the toilet busting one out. I had a sore stomach. This may have something to do with the shit tonne of chocolate goodness & other junk I rammed down my gullet during 4 days prior. My colon was punishing me for being a greedy asshole. Fair play.

Anyway as I was carefully wiping the remnants from my backend I heard our front door open. Assuming it was Blake heading off to work I thought nothing more of it until the bathroom door opened right on up & I was greeted by the face of a random old stranger. A lost motel guest.

It was at this very moment that I stretched my pyjama top right down over my knees in order to hide my naked bottom half currently on display to this curious & clearly disorientated old geezer. I got a fright. Kinda like being caught masturbating but not really like it at all because I don't do that.

I yelled at him to get out (not the exact words I used). He slams the bathroom door shut & retreats out the door yelling "but the door was unlocked?!".

What the fuck man!! Just because my front door is unlocked does in no way mean hello, please come in to my house & watch me wipe my arse.

This happens a lot. Not the strangers coming into my bathroom part, but the people opening our apartment door part. They get confused. Many of them can't speak or read a word of English & there is a stairwell right beside our apartment that leads guests upstairs to other motel units. One can only assume that when having the stairwell access pointed out to them by the helpful motel receptionist, they get confused.

But now I'm confused, because this particular guest had already been staying with us for the night prior, in a room UPSTAIRS. Nowhere near our apartment. Obviously he knows where his room is? Or not it seems.

I was piss mad & I felt a little invaded. Blake won't even come into the bathroom when I'm mudding. It's a scary time. And I appreciate his fear. It's a mass running fuck attack on the senses. I wouldn't purposely share that part of myself with anyone.

Nothing says welcome to Nelson like being blasted by the stink of a locals freshly laid turd burger. Or the being blinded by the chubby white thigh skin of an angry 30 something year old woman. I hope he has a nice holiday & the terrifying experience is forever ingrained in his memory.

Lucky for him I am now a graceful wiper. And he wasn't met by me doing the downward dog yoga position on top of the toilet attempting to get my short carny arms to reach around past my copious ass cheeks in order to hit the required spot as in previous uber fat years. Bum wiping with an extra 50kg of fat arse is a god dam work out yo. Thankfully this is no longer an issue for me.

I am loving the holidays. I am back at work today for 2 days then I get another 5 days off. I'm leaving Blake at home to look after the motel & I'm heading down to my sisters Bach (holiday home) for New Years eve. I am going to get drunk, lay in the sun & RELAX. First new years off in a few years.

Looking ahead to the new year, these are the things I wish for the me & the universe.

I would like to learn to grow my own veges. Or keep a plant of any kind alive for more than a week.

I would like to keep motivated enough to go to the gym 3-4 times week. Currently I suck balls at that. Mike someone is on holiday. I already have scheduled PT sessions with him in the new year & I know for a fact he is going to work this bitch.

I would like to dedicate more time & make more of an effort to spend time with my family & friends. I also suck at this. I always let the busy take over. Nothing in life is more important than family & friends.

I would like to keep making you whores laugh with my random stories of Becky life fails/toilet adventures & general whatthefuckery. I like to think I have tainted you all somewhat with my filth.

I will endeavour to support my husband 100% with his new study venture as he begins his degree in Naturapathy aka Hippy Medicine Practice. However I will draw the line if he ceases to wash his crotchal region in order to keep his man seed 'pure'or any attempts to smack the bad out of me with supple pine tree branches. I'm not sure that Naturopaths even practice this but I'm just saying.

I will also try to keep my front door locked at all times as to deter old men from witnessing my sacred art of ass wiping. That's private time stuff y'all!!

 True dat Oscar!!

Happy New Years bitches! I hope you greet 2012 with an open heart & mind. And vagina if you happen to get lucky. Be safe wherever you are xx

Have you ever been busted in on while doing something private on the toilet?

Peace, love & please use protection

P.S I will draw the giveaway for the knuckleduster coffee mugs when I get back on the 3rd. If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about I suggest you read this whole post here.
P.P.S I have it on good authority that accidental old perv man was very embarassed. So I forgive him. I love where I live so we'll move on from this.

Best Bits of Becky 2011.

I love all of you. I really do. Maybe not as much as I would love my naked husband covered head to toe in sour cream & chive Pringles, but pretty dam close.

Wherever you are, whoever you are with, know that I'm sending all you whores mad love from your favourite bad ass kiwi blogger.

Peace & love

P.S I would pick the fleas from your anus, but only if'it's clean & their no bum pube cobwebs. I don't want to have to dig for it.

Joy to the world. The rain has come. And so it seems have I.

This time of year, no one really hears much from me.When I'm not up to my asshole with 'bullshit to do' at work, I am drowning in it at home. I get tired & cranky & by the time I get a few days off over Christmas, I'm exhausted. Cry me a river Becky. Jeeze.

Speaking of rivers, we had a fuck tonne of rain last week. Something in the ball park of 750mm over the region in 48 hours. Now my seaside city is the sunshine capital of NZ. Officially. And we never ever get rain like that. Go figure.

As you can imagine much wrath of shit ensued. Hills & boulders the size of cars were coming down all over the show, rivers broke their banks, roads were closed, people lost power/phone & just got straight up cut off from civilisation, people ended up with their backyards inside their lounge rooms & around 300 homes have been red stickered 'inhabitable' by the GeoTech folk.

We don't have the infrastructure to cope with a torrential downpour like that. And the devastation it's caused is insane. However the blessing in all of the carnage is that no one got hurt. You can replace a house, but you can't replace a human life. Amen.

Nothing says 'fuck my life' more than a giant mountain shit 

busting through your back door.

I had decided that if the flooding extended down to the marina where I live, I was finally going to live out my lifelong badass pirate dream & steal me one of the million dollar boats sitting right in front of my house. But sadly it never came to that. Still, it never hurts to have a game plan.

Hubs has returned from his African adventure. And he bought me some rad gifts. This loot included a pair of smurf pyjamas that are about 7 sizes too small. He obviously has a distorted estimation of just how gigantic my back end is because he was WAY off. I will fit them one day though. If I can get in a time machine & go back to when I was 3. Or alternatively I can give them to my unborn daughter on her 8th birthday. They are that small.

He also bought me a Karma Sutra book. As a joke. Although when most people claim it's 'just a joke', usually they aren't joking at all. This is a life lesson I have learnt ten fold. Lets just say that this is part of the reason why I am so frigging tried today. Sweet Jesus, nothing like 2 weeks apart to rev up the bang life. Right on son!!

Also my husband has decided to dabble in massage. Erotic massage. He even bought a book on it. That's dedication yo & I am all for that show! Since his return I have been receiving nightly stroke me nicely massages. Lucky doesn't even begin to describe how I feel right now. Lucky & stupid muthafucking tired.

This book right here. Booyah.

I also got a beautiful African hand beaded necklace which I will never wear. Because those African ladies have small necks. My neck resembles an oompa loompa's in comparison. And if the .000001mm thick string the thousands of beads are threaded on to happens to break, it's god dam rainbow beads scattered from asshole to breakfast time.

When we were on our honeymoon last year I bought this beautiful wall hanging thing made out of millions of tiny beads. It was a piece of art work that I hung proudly on my hallway wall. Anyway the bitch broke a couple of days later & one year on I am still finding beads everywhere. And we've moved house twice since then.

I got monstrous bottle of Amarula Cream, & a box of cream caramels (a south African treat I would sell my whole family for), a couple of g-strings (also a 'joke' present apparently), a new Billabong Hoody, Weeds Season 1 on Bluray & a soft toy giraffe. The man did good. Real good.

So what once was a quiet, tidy & organised apartment has now returned to it's former pre South Africa visit state of undies/socks laying on the lounge chair, pube hairs scattered like magic fairy dust throughout the bathroom (& facial hair shaving), constant dishes in the sink & the little beaver like piles of shit (not actual shit) throughout the house. But I love him. And I'm so happy he's home. I love coming home to my manimal. A manimal who will willingly massage my ass cheeks for a whole hour. Whoop!

5 more sleeps til not real Santa comes. I'm looking forward to a sleep in, eating more food than is normal for one person to consume in a 24 hour period, AND spending time with the people I love who haven't buggered off down the sounds/South Africa or Wales.

With Christmas day quickly looming, what are all you whores up to?

For those of you that aren't aware the giveaway for this month is this kick ass knuckleduster coffee mug. Nothing says 'I hate your face' more than drinking your morning cuppa love out of this bad boy.

 I have 2 to giveaway. You know what you got to do. If you don't read here. 

Peace, love & achy hump muscles,

Hatin' On: Christmas shopping

I know you're thinkin how could I possibly top my last epic singing video post. Fact is I can't. I was thinking about showing you my naked breakdancing skills. But I won't do that. However, you should know that I am busy planning my 'Best Bits of Bexstar:2011' video. And there will be another song. I'm not a one hit show pony.

Ok so I hate people. I hate angry crazy shopping people. And at the ass end of the year when the retail stores start putting up their copious glitteraty bullshit Xmas decorations & begin cranking on high rotate stab-my-ears-til-they-bleed-sadness Christmas music, I stay the fuck home cos I don't want no part of that shit show.

Suddenly gone are the days of excuse me, please & thank yous, instead replaced with crazy eyed desperate ho's & their hypo asshole crotchlets ramming their trolleys in to the back of innocent victims knees, smack down slappathons for car parks & normally nice ordinary people turning into feral salivating I'ma gon ravage you if you get up in my bizness pitbull shoppers.

BULLSHIT. No thank you.

I don't handle chaos well. I start sweating from all orifices, angry rage bile starts to rise up my gullet & my right leg starts lashing out with a short sharp fuck kick to the vulva of whoever gets within a metre of my circle of trust. I don't even make it do that on purpose, it just does it all by itself.

Blake refuses to take to me Xmas shopping. Because he says that one day he is going to get his ass beat because of me kicking strangers & yelling obscenities out the car window. I will even kick children. Specifically ones that are unnecessarily misbehaving. I am that crazy. I am this crazy. I want to eat peoples fucking faces off & I don't even need utensils.


So I've discovered something amazing. It's actually something I do all the time yet strangely at Xmas time I forget that I can do this. This thing is called ONLINE MUTHAFUCKING SHOPPING. Every single Xmas present I have bought online. Easy. Done. Fini. No one is left bleeding or with an exposed shattered femur from me judo kicking the shit out of their leg.

I worked in retail for a few years. I blame it completely for turning me in to a rabid people hater. I managed a music store in the local mall & while my staff did most of the work, I shut myself away in the storeroom & ate chocolates. You wouldn't find no Christmas carols being rocked out in my store. Hell to the no bitches. I had to hear that shit every other store I went in to, I wanted to give peoples ears a break. And they thanked me for that. Maybe not openly but I could tell they loved me for it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about Christmas & what it means to me. Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jebus. Yet I'm not religious. So Christmas to me is about spending time with family & friends, consuming a fuck tonne of food/alcohol, not having to work (Holla!), beaching myself the nearest available pool, getting gifted some loot & being thankful for everything in my life that's good.

There are many that go without, because they don't have a choice. And it wrecks me. I wish I could fly all the little African orphans to my pad for a few days to love & nourish them. But I can't do that.

Instead I have bought an array of small gifts to give to the Salvation Army for all those little kids that won't have any sort of Christmas at all. I did the same thing last year. And I've just phoned the local city mission to see if I can help out for the annual Mayors Christmas dinner. Every year the cities smelly bin diving AIDS hobos, abandoned pee pee Nana's & non straight jacketed mental health patients get together & have a mean feed with the Mayor. Plus our Mayor is hot yo. And Italian. I want in. Failing that it's got to be entertaining right? It won't solve all the worlds problems, but it's something I can give.

Moving along, for those that have the unfortunate task of buying for me this year or just straight up want to hook me up with some booty because I'm too god dam awesome, I thought I would give them a heads up by informing them of some of the things I would like. It's vital that they get this shit right.

Just think of how rad my video blogs will be if I'm wearing this. 

Hours of fun!!! I plan on wild striding, while neighing, past strangers open windows.

I like owls. And I like cooking. So I want this.

 I'd really love me a gun pendant necklace. Bang bang. 

However this banger is tres expensive. Le sigh.

A guitar shaped spatula. Rock on.

Diesel Loverdose perfume.
Cos it's important that a ho smells nice.

 

 I want Weeds. The whole series. On DVD.

Because this show makes me hose.

A spensive sexy dress from my fave ho clothes store, City Chic.

And I would really really really like this VW Combi Tent.
Because it's so dam cool. But sadly Blake said no. Boo

A selection of fake moustaches. For disguise purposes when
I get all high on aloneness & sing on the Internet..
Although my homemade pen moustache was the bomb.

A bottle of Cachaca. So I can make me some Cariprinahs on Christmas Day
& completely maggoted. Which in turn may help my husband can get some sex.

Lastly, for Christmas this year I would like a pash. From my Internet boyfriends, funny fucker Shane at Wag the Dad and/or the silver tongued gangsta rapper Social Assassin himself, Mr Crew. With a no tongue though. **Blake doesn't mind. Aslong as there's no dick touching. So I'm like hey hookers, right on then.

** Blake probably does mind but seeing as he is currently away as I am writing this post, I will speak on his behalf. However, both of these dudes  are married & their wives would probably cut a bitch if I tried to get all up on their fullas.Under normal circumstances I would probably have a crack anyway, but seeing as I like their wives, I'll keep my whore hands off. Boo. A bitch can only dream.

What I really want for Christmas this year is for another year of waking up breathing every day, the ability to keep laughing at myself, to not get arrested for anything & many healthy bowel movements.

Blake's home on Saturday (2 weeks went really fast?) & we are going to erect (hehe) our little 40cm led light Xmas tree. I have no time for christmas trees but it would be rude of me to not atleast try & get in to it.

I keep my Christmas joy on the inside. I don't feel the need to vandalise my house with **gay.

**Please note NOT the homosexual kinda gay. Cos I love me some gays.

Are you a Christmas hater or does the mere sight of tinsel & smell of a real pine xmas trees give you a fizzy bunghole? What does Christmas mean to you?

PEACE!.

P.S I have never kicked a child on purpose. You should know that.

Dear Johi. You made my bung fizz.

Dear Johi.

How are you? I am good.

Today my mum left for Wales for a couple of months & I cried. It was raining all day & I was a bit sad because I have no car while Blake is away so I have to walk everywhere. And I don't like getting my chucks wet. Soggy feet doesn't feel nice.

But then I watched your video (go here & watch her awesomeness yourself) & I cried again. Except this time happy bitch tears, because you love me & I love you. And it's summer here so no snow at Christmas time for this hooker. FYI.

I got sunburnt in the weekend. On my boob. On the tops of my knees. And my hands. And my forehead. At least I didn't sunburn my vagina. Just saying.

I went to my step brothers wedding. We arrived late to the ceremony (just after the bride had walked up the aisle) because the fairlane Cadillac we were gangsta trippin in shat itself. While we sat & waited for The Bev (my sisters father in law) to bring us a new battery, the sun raped me.

At the reception my sister & I got ratarsed on champagne. And then something glorious happened. We had a simultaneous urge to poo. So we farted & bum clenched while trying to walk in our monster lady heels to some toilets far away from the marquee where the reception was. Because we have excellent manners, we also text our mum  to tell her we were going to take a poo together.

This probably reminded her of one time when we were 4 & 5 & decided to share the toilet & pee at the same time. Mum busted us both sitting on the toilet swapping chewing gum. It got stuck in our hair. We got growled at.

Anyway we both Hiroshimaed in separate cubicles. There was much crying laughing as the sounds of turds hitting water echoed within that bathroom. I laughed so hard some pee came out which is lucky I was already sitting on the toilet. My sister is fun. I love hanging out with her.

Ok so Johi I made you a video. And I didn't want to upload it because well I am quite shy. But I'm sucking the fuck & putting it up anyway. Don't judge me.

Before you watch it I must advise that you please don't have your sound right up. And please lock your children back in the cupboard with a packet of biscuits, a blanket & a bucket. There is swearing in this.

Also if you need my kiwi accent translated, email me. I can supply a translated script.

Also I don't have AIDS. The light in my lounge is not good.

This is also quite long because I am a fame hungry whore.

Oh & my Winner Wednesday prize for the month of December is this.

A GIANT KNUCKLEDUSTER COFFEE MUG. Every bad ass should have one.

I don't even drink coffee, but I have one of these. Because I'm bad ass. The end.

If you want to win this for yourself follow my blog, & comment your ass off. Because it's xmas, I am giving away two. Huzzah!

Peace, love & badly penned facial hair,

Your Becky

P.S To those that have hurt feelings because I didn't give you a shout out in my video, don't be sad, I was ad libbing & cut a major mind blank. In order to make up for my retarded brain I will give you written snaps instead.

I love Jody the bus driving man hooker, Dan P (Holla!), Rachelle, Chubbs, Misty, Zionstar, Mrs Bitch, Margeritta, Pappatigga (bitch you still need to hook me up with your address), all of you people that visit me at the internet house of B give me special fanny tingles. Just not the goodtime ones because those a reserved for my shit nugget.

My great love story & why my hooker is leaving me unsupervised for 2 whole weeks.

Right so some major shit has happened in the last few days. Apart from me having 4 solid poos in one day (y'all would think I'd have nothing left after last Thursdays explosions. Seems not), Blake's Nana in South Africa died. Both situations equally sad & confusing.

On Sunday we also had my family Xmas. Yeah I know a whole month early but next week my Ma & step Pa are buggering off to Wales/Scotland for 2 months & my sister & her family are heading away to their holiday home so we be on our own for Xmas this year. And this Saturday my step-bro is getting hitched so him & his nearly wife are here from Perth for their wedding. So we had Xmas on Sunday. Early.

I feel like I just wrote a round about circle poem. Doth such poem exist? Well it fucking does now.

Anyway I got some pretty rad loot. As usual. My mum is an epic gift buyer. We had a BBQ. I love my NZ Christmas. I spent one Xmas in Scotland in -13 degree snowing bullshit weather & I nearly died. However I had the BEST time & I drunk a fuck tonne of alcohol. Which is possibly what stopped me from dying of the bitch fuck cold.

Last year when Blake & I went on our honeymoon to South Africa, I got the chance to meet his dear sweet Nana. We stayed with her in Durban for a few days in her little flat. During that time her & I talked a lot about life stuff, & I loved hearing her stories about growing up on the family farm, teaching Geography & her deep unconditional love for her family. We bonded & I feel grateful that I got that special time with her.

You can't beat an African sunset.

 I took this photo of a chipper on his treadly when we were daring the

pot holed to buggery back roads between Johannesburg & Dundee. Simple life.

I got upset when we had to say goodbye to her. I don't have any living Grandparents anymore & I get attached to old people quickly. I was deeply sad for my husband because I know what its like to say goodbye to your Grandparents not knowing if you will ever see them again. She stood on her porch & waved us farewell until we had disappeared out of sight.

My mother in law Bridget, or Bibs as I fondly call her, is one of the most gorgeous people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not many people can say that about their mother in-laws without it being a bare assed lie. But I love the shit out of this woman. Her & I are tres close. We have been ever since Blake & I became friends all those years ago. She travels to SA once a year to see her family & spend time with her mum. And she only arrived back in to NZ on Monday last week after spending a month in Durban with her mum.

Blake & I had dinner with her on Saturday night & listened to her speak with tears in her eyes of her heavy heart at leaving her mum behind again. The next morning she gets a phone call from her beloved homeland with the sad news that Granny had passed away. 85 years on the earth & what an amazing life she had.

As you would expect, my Bibs is devastated. Her father passed away 3 years ago around the same time. Now she has to go home & bury her mother.

I can't comprehend what it feels like to lose a parent. I have lost a step parent, & I still grieve for him now. Sadly the circle of life doesn't allow for one person to live forever. I wish we could, but our time on earth is borrowed. Blake's Granny had a good innings. It still doesn't make it any less sad.

So on Friday, my hubs, his siblings & Bibs are flying out to South Africa for 2 weeks to bury their Gran. They have to pack up all her belongings, attend her funeral & scatter her ashes. It's not a holiday. But the one ray of sunshine in all this is that they will get to be together. The whole family. The first time in a very long time.

I am staying home on my own for 2 weeks. And I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself.

You know how people say they married their best friend? People who stay stuff like that are normally the kind of people I mentally punch in the face. Shit like that is so smarm it makes me yak in my mouth. Ironically, I find myself saying this very same thing. All. The. Time. Mainly because I did in fact, marry my best friend.

Like curious dogs when they first meet, Blake & I spent 3 years sniffing each others anuses. We travelled together, spent all our free time together, & never once did I ever look at him as anything more than a just a friend. For reals.

He was my best mate.

He was the one who would make sure I'd get home at the end of the night on the razz when I couldn't walk because I was too ratarsed & lost my shoes.

He was the one who would pick me up at 6am in the morning because I fell down some stairs & broke my foot. Sober. Then he lent me his PSP, bought me a Sims game (the only game I know how to play) & chocolates while I was holed up with a busted foot for a few weeks.

He was the one that would send me $100 when I was a broke ass uni student living in Auckland because I couldn't afford to buy any food.

He was the one that would laugh loudly & snort beer out his nose when I text him & told him I'd blocked a toilet at Heathrow Airport on my way back from Scotland.

He was the one who would quietly weep every time he had to drop me back at the airport after I'd been home for holidays.

He loved me & I never knew.

Until one night when I was home from Uni for summer holidays, we got drunk & he threw a glass fruit bowl at my head (accidentally he says) then told me he was in love with me. First I laughed & spewed forth a plethora of nasty swear words. I was nervous that he was actually straight up cray cray & was going to cut a bitch up with the broken fruit bowl glass. Then we talked. For hours. I kept saying over & over that I never thought of him in a romantic way & I didn't know if I could be with him 'like that' because I just didn't see myself jumping his bones. It'd be like having relations with my brother.

Then he did something that to this day is stuck in the front of my memory. He brushed my hair out of my eyes & told me that I was his 'one'. This muthafucka was getting all Don Juan on my ass but dam it felt so weird good.

Once I let myself, I fell the fuck in love with him. Hard.

Fast foward 4 years down the track & we've nearly been married for 2 years. We've suffered some tragedys together (specifically a nasty miscarriage which was a HUGE test of our love for each other). And when I'm apart from him, I don't feel like me. Which brings me to the purpose of this post today.

Firstly, I am a very lucky bitch.

Secondly, I'm going to miss him like a scrotless cat at a pussy party. I know it's only 2 weeks, cry me a fucking river.

But I lose my shit when he isn't around to stroke me nicely. I'm a firey whore. He's about as laid back as you can get without constantly lying down & he has this way of soothing my angry inner beast.

So baby if you are reading this, & upon your return discover that I've been arrested for arson & shanking a few bitches, it's totally your fault. I shouldn't be left unattended. Be safe & come back to me in one piece please. I will lend you my elite judo chopping skills just in case some drugged up gangsta trys to mug you or cap you for your ipod & shoes.

And please stay away from the rabies monkeys. My immune system is still recovering from the ass raping firey lava bum/projectile honk bug I got last week. Enjoy the time with your family & please hug the snot out of them all for me.

It's going to be a long 2 weeks.

Me & my puss bags up Table Mountain, Cape Town.

Have any of you got a great love story? How did you meet the love of your life?

So as today is the first of December in my part of the world, it means it's time to announce the winner of Novembers Winner Wednesday prize. 

Pappatigga, my very funny gangsta brotha, please flick me an email to bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your address & I'll get poos & wees out to you.

Thanks to everyone who commented. Seriously the comments sometimes have me pissing my undergarments. Yous fullas a hilarious yo! And welcome to the new readers. I'm a good time. You will not be disappointed.


Peace & sloppy clumsy love,

P.S Rest in peace Granny x