Taio Cruz you egg, you've obviously never had a REAL hangover.

I hate top 40 pop music. If Top 40 pop music was a person I would gouge it's eyes out with a rusty spoon then take a large dump in it's mouth while it sleeps. Then I would cover it in honey & set a box of angry wasps on it. And then I would drench it in nail polish remover & set it on fire. But not before letting a rabified wolf dog chomp on it's nut sac. There's a lot of hate inside me for crap plastic music.

Check it out for yourself. Be prepared to rage.

I hate the ass off this. My 3 year old niece could write better lyrics in her sleep. Her lyrics would probably make more sense & wouldn't be sending out a message to our already fucked up badly informed crotchling teens that drinking til you vomit is ok. Dick. Not even.

Now Taio, if you read this, I don't know if you've ever had a real hangover. Seriously. Because that video is bullshit. I have never woken up with a Chinese man wearing an angry bear costume in my lounge after a night out on the rip. Nor a bevy of half naked hot bitches sleeping on my lounge floor.

This may have something to do with the fact I am not a rock star. I am. But not a real life one. Maybe you guys have better parties than me? Whatevs.

Anyhow, I've taken it upon myself to regale you on how hangovers really go. For future reference.

First of all, there is no rave dancing & carefree hey ho-ing of arms. Or singing. In fact the only movement I can will my body to make is the gag reflex. And the uncontrollable urge to shit my own pants. That happens all by itself. Especially if I drink bourbon.

The first stage of the ultimate fuck my life hangover is aptly named the Death Spin. Just like a hungry gator death rolling a naive & thirsty beast at the watering hole, your own body will attempt to do the same to you. Your liver is piss mad at you for filling it with poison. Don't even bother trying to put your foot on the floor to steady yourself & stop the world from spinning. Ride this shit out yo. Because you are about to yak like it's a goddam competition.

It's probably a good thing that you are lying down because being horizontal is a perfect position to let the shit tonne of alcohol you've just consumed over the past 12 hours rape your mind/body into unconsciousness. WARNING: for health & safety reasons, make sure your head is turned to the side. No one wants you to actually die. Choking on your own vomit is not trendy.

If you have managed to make it home without being arrested for squashing your exposed boobs up to a pub door while screaming/singing to the angry bouncer 'Hey Big Spendeeeeeeeeeeeer!!' or digging up a native tree from the local botanical gardens & jamming it into a public toilet & setting it on fire, then quietly congratulate yourself. You did good.

The second stage of the hangover I like to call, I'm Still Muthafucking Wasted. This is when you wake up 2 hours after falling asleep & your eye lashes are all intertwined with each other like small Venus fly traps so you can't actually open your eyes at all. You have to feel your way around your house like a partially blind person with amputated legs.

You are normally still fully clothed, with your hot lady shoes on, & you probably haven't even been in, on or near your bed. Typically it's any solid surface in which ones body lands eg: floor.

OR wrapped around the toilet bowl with your head resting on the dirty porcelain bowl rim.

OR if you are my brother in law in his more youthful days, naked & asleep in a fetal position on the floor of the shower.

You realise upon regaining consciousness that you are indeed still shitfaced & you groan inwardly to yourself the age old rhetoric question, 'what in the hell did I do last night?'. You got drunk fool! Stupid drunk. And what's about to unfold is going to suck more than a knob hungry Prosti. You smell vomit. You did that. You smell urine. You did that too. In your own pants!! And if you've really let yourself go during the previous nights festivities, there may be poo in your pants also.

If you are married I would not advise getting into bed in that state. One word. DIVORCE. And three words, NO SEX EVER. Crawl to the shower, clean yourself up. Once in this respectable state you are then clear to venture into your own bed.

The third & final stage is called, I am dead but not really. You spend a whole day of your life lazing around in bed wishing that sweet baby Jesus would take you to heaven & rock you in the bosom of Abraham. Because it's a shitload better than having to deal with the constant head pounding, a tongue so hairy it feels like you've licked clean the carpet inside your entire apartment, the chronic case of I'm-too-scared-to-fart-in case-there's-blowback farts & the urge to yell solids at the smell of anything remotely food-like.

In between bouts of alcohol induced delirium, you manage to sleep off the effects of the poison coursing through your organs, promising yourself that you will in fact never ever drink again. That is a shame faced lie & you know it.

There will be no sexy rap video hookers rolling around in their panties on your bed trying to jam $20 bills up their jacksies. No sir. You are severely mistaken. Hangovers are quite possibly the worst thing a human being can inflict on themselves apart from thigh chafe & sticking things in holes where things aren't supposed to go. And everytime I see the music video on TV I get so mad that my husband needs to restrain me from judo chopping the shit out of his beloved 42" flat screen.

Not only have you lost touch with the reality of a hangover Taio but you are also trying to destroy my marriage by subliminally making me violent.

And your name is stupid. It's like Taco but not. And I like Tacos.

Taio Cruz you egg.

Worst hangover story ever.....123 GO!

Before I go.....It's Funny Bitch All Stars voting time again hookers. This is when I ask all you whores to hook a bitch up with a vote. Cos I want to stay on this list. So if while reading any of my posts you had some shits & giggles, semi dribbled in your lady undergarments or spat a beverage all over your computer/laptop/ipad screen OR if ever you have been out & someone starts talking about poos & farts or flappy vagina lobes & it totally makes you think of me, then know this, I am in you. Under your skin. Like a scabie. You can't get rid of me. And for that I deserve your glorious praise. Plus I sung for you bitches. WITH a paper moustache on.

Seriously though, if you want to show me some love (yes it's optional), go see Oh Noa the Great & pimp my fat but sill sexy ass. (click on pic below, it will take you to Noa-town. You will find the link to the survey there. Find me amongst the stellar line up & love me hard x).

Peace!