Cricket. Yawn.

I HATE cricket.

Tonight is the 3rd & final 20/20 match between NZ & South Africa. For reasons unknown to me, & god knows I've been debating with my husband over the phone all afternoon, he is insistent on watching it.

According to him, 20/20 cricket is better than normal cricket. My argument to him is that it's still cricket. It's like rolling a poo in glitter. While it may undeniably look quite attractive, maybe even Xmas tree ornament worthy, underneath the glitter it's still just a big shit. And it's BORING!!!!!!!!!!!

I won't even attempt to go into the logistics of cricket because quite frankly I've never stayed awake long enough to listen when someone has tried to explain it to me.

During my third phone call to him this afternoon to plead my anti cricket stance, he said, and I quote 'why don't you blog or something?'. Piss off.

So here I am, in our bedroom all by myself at 8pm on a Wednesday evening.

Here is my list of 20 things I would rather do than watch cricket.

Paint myself in honey & run head first into a giant wasp nest.

Jam a whole bag of tack covered marbles up my jacksie.

Have a bare knuckled fist fight with an alpha male baboon. It will win hands down & eat my face off regardless of the fact I can round house kick like a machete. But no eyes will mean I won't ever have to watch cricket ever again. WIN!

Give my husband a blowjob every day for the rest of his life. (Blake you can't choose this now. It's too late. I can hear the cricket from the bedroom).

Eat a plate of deep fried cow anus. It probably tastes just like steak anyway.

Make out with the old man willy dribble piss mop in the work toilet.

Ring every single person in the phonebook & sing them my all time non favourite song, You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon. Or The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Listeners choice.

Watch mens gymnastics. Also known as 'man jazz on a box', 'man jazz on a fancy bar thing' or 'how do you like my Lycra coated scrotum?'.

Cut off all my hair & sew it onto my pubic mound with a dirty needle.

Eat a hobo fart.

Accidentally on purpose mace a Nana. Or a load of Nana's. I'm not fussy.

Teach some street kids how to properly set a council rubbish bin on fire. Spread the wisdom. Huzzah!

Build a barbed wire fort all around my side of the bed instead of the pillow fort I currently build every night before I go to sleep. He doesn't need to feel the womanly warmth of his wife's body as he drifts off to sleep. He has cricket now.

Lick a car battery.

Look after someones children. I am so goddamn serious right now. However, this would never happen. Why you ask? Please read every post I have ever written. That is why. I can't be trusted. I'm a rogue.

Break into the 4x4 parked just outside my bedroom window, take off the hand break & watch if roll into the ocean while I clap like a retarded seal.

Sellotape knives & forks to my fingers (like Edward Scissorhands but not. I'd be Becky ForknKnife Hands) then stick my hands in the toaster.

Lock myself in the cupboard under the stairs with nothing but Mariah Careys Christmas hits blaring on a small CD player, a piece of photo copy paper & a packet of popping candy. And then swallow the key. I am not lying, I would pee on the popping candy to activate the pop, jam it in my ear holes then I would paper cut my own leg of & use it to bash the door down. I always got a plan yo.

Punch myself in the face really hard then jump into a tank of hungry tiger sharks.

Learn what Lent is? No, I really don't know?

You will be surprised & frightened by how quickly I came up with that list. It both excites & concerns me.

Any sport you just can't get into no matter how hard you try? What would rather do than watch it?

I leave you with an ecard that made me smile some today......anyone who can not familiarise with this either has no soul or no anus.

Holla baller! Hearing that!

Peace, love & down with cricket,

P.S Like everything else I bad mouth, if you  find that all the men standing round rubbing red balls up & down there white pantaloons gives you a royal man fanny spasm, good for you old chap. I only judge my husband because I can. And he's really sexy.

Everything was dickish and then got badass awesome all in one day.

Thursday last week was a big festery dick. A series of asshole events chipped away at my tough anti-bullshit exterior, All. Day. Long. When Blake picked me up from work, I was so livid, that not even the fact my BFF was about to fly in to my home city for a weekend of debauchery could make me crack a smile.

I went to the gym & tried to sweat some of the rage out. Mike (my personal trainer), likes to use my aggression to benefit my workouts. He gets me on the speed ball. I grit my teeth & hammer that bitch.While this worked momentarily, the anger returned ten fold when we got home & my husband asked what I was making for dinner. FUCK YOU man.

I sat on the couch absolutely seething. How dare he ask me what I'm making for dinner like I'm his wife or something. Get your own fucking dinner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And while you're there, make me some because I'm goddamn hungry.

With arms crossed so tightly I could feel my hands going all tingly from restricted blood flow, I sat on the couch in a silent rage watching the news.

The motel receptionist knocked on the door at 7pm to say she was going home & handed me our mail. As I returned to my angry wife news watching couch, I opened the mail. And this is when shit got awesome........

Hola muthafuckers, I won a trip to Cancun.

At this joyful news, I lept off the couch & bounced around the dining room table like a fat  kangaroo, while repeatedly mashing the letter into my face screaming 'We've WON. We've WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'. No seriously. You should see the state of this letter now. It looks like someone ate it, regurgitated it then put it through the wash.

Blake stood in the safety of the kitchen watching all of this. He thought I'd finally lost my shit for real.

After about 5 minutes of screaming my head off, I managed to stop for about 60 seconds which was long enough to hand him the letter to read then I was off again.

Then Blake joined in.

We ended up in the kitchen, yelling at no one in particular & fist pumping til our arms fell off.

So it seems, yes we are going to Cancun in April for 7 days. Everything paid for, including some bitchin' tours of the Mayan ruins, we just have to take our own spending money.

I have never been to South America. But it's something that I've always wanted to do. We are hoping to spend a day/night in LA & check out Hollywood. May as well while we are there.

I am so excited, I have suddenly developed minor ADHD & can not concentrate on anything for longer than about 30 seconds.

This nice news kicked off one of the best weekends I have had in forever.

Ra! Happy me. Pirate Hooker.

On Friday some mates & I went to Neudorf Vineyard for the Classic Hits Winery Tour. The weather was perfect, the bands kicked ass & I got completely wankered on wine. I even danced. And I never dance. It seems a bottle of Moutere Hills Pinot Gris will bring fun Becky to the yard.

As the night wore on, I got increasingly messy. We ended up taking our party into Mot town & ripping it a new one. This included me star fishing on the side of the road, Emma dropping the entire contents of her bag on the concrete about 5 times, Kylie discovering that she really liked stroking my ear because it's so soft & 2 big plates of fucking hot potato's which caused us to all get 3rd degree burns inside our mouths.

As I pryed my eyelashes apart on Saturday morning, I praised Jebus that it was only Saturday & I had 2 whole days to feel normal again before having to go back to work. Because holy shit I was hungover.

We must have robbed a service station of all it's snack food on the way home too because as I looked over the side of the bed, the floor was covered in chips. And pie wrappers. And I have gravy congealed all over my eating hand.

Kye & I spent the day floating in the ocean in Kaiteri.

Kye please don't hate me for putting this photo on the Internet. 

You may look corky but I still love you anyway.

Saturday night was quiet. Kind of. Kylie & I sat out the back garden of her mums place & talked/laughed our asses off til midnight. This may have something to do with the fact we smoked. Not cigarettes were just really happy. And shit got weird. I introduce to you, Nelson's very own Blanket Man.....

Blanket Man in the swing. Weeeeeee.

Blanket Man on the toilet.

Blanket Man in the shower.

Blanket Man hanging out the washing. 

Blanket Man & giant sunflower.

The mosquitos were biting me & it was a bit cold, so I found somewhere to hide. And it all just started from there. It was all slight bladder leakage & giggles at the time. In hindsight, looking at the photo's, not so much.

Sadly the weekend didn't end on a high note. Kylie was supposed to fly back to Wellington yesterday afternoon but we had to rush her mum to hospital in an ambulance early hours of Sunday morning. She's had to cancel her trip home til further notice.

So today I am sending massive love vibes & Becky prayers to Ma Lish.

If you read this post Kye, I love you so hardout & you know where I am if you need some mad hugs or a bitch to talk to. Cos I get you. And there is no one else on this earth I would let stroke me ear so lovingly in the back of Mr & Mrs Misters family wagon, you big lesbianess.

Hey you guys, how was your weekend? Anyone ever won anything random before?


 Peace & love,

Valentines Days is bullshit. Surely this doesn't surprise you.

I like Valentines Day about as much as a painful ass crack waxing. I would rather eat a rubbish bag filled with rusty scrap metal than be forced to endure all it's epic commercial dickflappery.

I have never sent anyone anything on Valentines Day. I have however, received a few.

When I was 11, my boy crush at the time, Drew, bought me a single red rose & a small white teddy bear holding a pillow that said 'I wuv you'. While on the inside I was overjoyed at this confirmation of his love for me (he was the hottest boy in my school. That was the day my head grew to the massive size it is now), ALL the girls were jealous & decided to hate me. Hoes before bros. Completely ruined my street cred with the bitches.

The next day my mum & I went away for a weekend down the Westcoast. White love teddy sat on the dashboard of our car whilst roadtrippin. Unfortunately I put him on the toilet cistern of the motel room while I peed, & there was an earthquake & love teddy fell in my piss water.

I took this as a sign from the love gods that our love was not destined for greatness. This sporty active boy, whom I loved so fiercely, died from throat cancer in his early twenty's & he didn't even smoke.While we lost touch when I moved cities, I'd never forgotten him. Sad.

Toby, the gawky boy with the club feet who lived round the corner from me, he dropped a heap of stickers & a bag of cherries in my mailbox one Valentines Day. I loved Cherries. And I loved collecting stickers. I had a sticker book that was filled with all sorts of awesome. I was his friend because he gave me free shit. And he had a really nice house. There I said it.

In my early twenties, a boy that I didn't really like at all sent me the biggest bunch of roses to my university class. Everyone was envious & depressed because I got flowers & no one else did. And I didn't even like him.  Mainly because he was mental & his love for me was so intense, I'm positive he was one step away from slipping me a roofy, peeling my skin off & wearing it as a coat.

I've had many lonely Valentines Days too. It's the one day of the year when you question your self worth & wonder if you will ever find that one person to love forever. Depressing, self esteem raping, stupid wanky Valentines Day.

I rebel against the gooey vag spasm that is Valentines day & have never sent anyone flowers/chocolates/other valentine bullshit gifts. I stand strong in my beliefs that you shouldn't need one day of the year to tell the people you love, that you indeed love them. I love my people every goddamn day. Shove that up your cornhole Hallmark! You ain't gettin none of my money.


While you sit at your office desk today as the flower man comes through the door with the big bunch of roses & you find your heart skipping a beat, for a nano second wondering if your mysterious John Cussack has come through with the goods, only to be dealt the heart smashing disappointment when those same flowers are handed to the office troll who you just can't understand how anyone could love......it's a giant commercial head fuck.

Feel content knowing that those roses will die. And the guy expressing his love for the office skank is only trying to get it in. Quite frankly it shouldn't be that much hard work. He will soon realise when his cock & balls are covered in small burny blisters that it was a big waste of money.


To all my friends out there that are rockin valentines day solo, today I will be your John Cussack. I love you this much.........

If you find yourself around someone today that is feeling a little down cos they ain't got no sweetheart, give them a little bum grab, or front bum grab if you secretly find them really really goodlooking & would like to bang fanny's with them. Trust me, it will make their day.

Valentines Day hater or lover? 

Peace & love,

P.S In saying all of this, I just posted an E-card on Facebook wishing my husband happy valentines day. I hadn't had breakfast yet & was overcome by what can only be described as a moment of pure insanity. Don't worry I will punch myself in the face for it later.

Dear Doctor B: The Relationship Files - Vegetarianism

Dear Dr B
When I have had a busy stressful day at work & go home to a husband who's mad at me because I apparently 'don't understand the awesomeness of a meat-free existance', I feel really shithouse about myself.

He cooked me dinner the other night. Mushroom, leek & lemon risotto. It was actually quite nice even though I had considered grilling me some bacon to crumble through it for a little bit more 'substance'. I lvoe bacon so much. When I die I want to be cremated wrapped in bacon so all my mourners can dance in the glorious aroma of crispy bacon delisciousness.

Half an hour before serving me his risotto SANS meat, he busted me hiding behind the fridge door like Golum from Lord of the Rings, necking a wad of precious shaved chicken. I was just really hungry.

Cue much arm flapping & disappointed facials.
He is not talking to me at the moment. I don't like that he discriminates me for my love of all things meat. Quite frankly he can take his judgey judgeyness & shove it up his ring.

I sit & listen to his constant lecturing about how he will never eat something that has come out of somethings vagina. While the lecturing makes me piss mad, I also feel really optimistic about the future of our children. Because I know he will never eat them.

I accept the lifestyle he has chosen for himself & the fact that he constantly smells like a man sized bulb of garlic, I do not believe he should make me feel bad about my life because I prefer to ram a 3kg fillet of prized Angus down my gullet rather than fill my stomach with nature.

I have explained to him on more than once occasion that because I have a period, I need loads of iron so I don't hemorrhage & die. The idea of sitting down to a table full of silverbeet in order to get the same amount of iron as a palm sized eye fillet is of the utmost bullshit & makes me depressed.

It wouldn't be so bad if vegetables didn't taste like farts. I ate a fart once. Not on purpose though. So I can confirm that there is indeed a similarity between the taste of veges & farts.

Please help.....

Mrs Lambchops

Dear Mrs Lampchops
Nothing pleases me more than a good marital battle of wills. My husband is also a extremely proactive vegetarian/vegan. And I am here to tell you that it is possible to co-exist.

When I was a young lass, I used to live near a stockyard. A stockyard is basically a whore runway for farm cattle. My sister & I used to throw large stones at the bulls heads to see if they would get mad & charge the wooden fence beyond which we were protected. We would sit atop our Raleigh 20 bikes, ready to peddle like fuck if one of the herd got a bit stroppy & decided to have a go. We thrived on the adrenalin. The bulls never charged us. Mainly because they are stupid.

My childhood BFF, Kim, lived on the other side of a paddock filled with rams. We would commando roll across the field in order to make it to her house after school. One time a mad sheep bunted up her up the ass & made her fly over the fence onto the gravel road. She got stones in her knee. I peed my pants from laughing so hard then buried them in her garden because I was scared that my mum would growl at me for doing wees in my knickers.

Sheep are stupid. While they may contribute massively to our economy due to the export of their hair, there are way too many in NZ. So I see it as my personal mission to singlehandedly cull their population by eating as many as I can.

Every time we drive past the local meat works, I don't feel sad seeing the lambs all lined up ready for a slaughtering. Call me callous, Or You can call me Betty, And Betty you can call me Al.

We are at the top of the food chain. It's just how shit works. Nothing can get us except zombies, AIDS, escaped zoo animals & those indigenous Pervian Mountain folk that still like to eat people. If things were the other way round & lambs were at the top of the food chain (regardless of the fact they are herbivores & survive purely on grass, whatevs), I'm pretty certain they wouldn't give a fuck. Lambs are cute but mainly stupid. It's genetic.

My point is, animals (except for maybe cats) can be really really goodlooking but are mostly stupid. Eat your meat with a sense of freewill knowing that this is what the universe intended for our species to survive.Your husband it seems, has his own set of life rules. Let it be.

But if you really want to fuck with him, without him actually knowing, next time you make a vege soup, slip in a box of chicken stock. He will never know the difference, as the plethora of veg will satiate his taste buds & temporarily blind them from any chicken tomdickery.

Feel quietly smug in knowing that there is still meat product in his system despite his constant rants of how much more awesome he is than everyone else because he doesn't eat meat. Dispose of the stock carton stealthily. Fire is always my preferred option of destruction. Nothing says 'you are a annoying smug fuck' more than a healthy bit of Carnivore revenge.

Failing this, take your husband to your local carnival & feed him to Grimace. It seems our McFamous simpleton is not only an evil clumsy Milkshake/Soda thief but also akin to a tasty human morsel (please see photo evidence below). Nom nom!!

Whoever said ignorance is bliss needs a big dirty pash.

Yours faithfully
Dr B

Please note: I have never sabotaged my husbands meals with animal based stock of any kind nor is this a personal attack on anyone that chooses to obstain from partaking in meat. The freedom of choice is a wonderful & poweful thing. Except if you live in a communist country then you are basically fucked.

The winners of Januarys Winner Wednesday two KnuckleDuster Coffee Mugs are.........

WagtheDad & Tennesseetatas.

Holla at a bitch, bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your postal address & I will get that badassness out to you in the post asap.

This months Winner Wednesday prize is going to be a surprise. Because I can. Please note that it will be awesome. And won't a table full of silverbeet. Keep the comments coming. I may not always reply, but I always read them, have some shits & giggles, & sometimes touch myself.

Peace & juicy meaty love,

Self Esteem Problems? Go see the Baboons at the zoo. And wear pink.

I am still here. I have not quit my love for the written word & all things toilet to chase my lifelong dream of rock stardom. I have been doing shit.

Shit which included being busted by strangers power pissing in an alleyway while holding a flashing strobe light above my head, accidentally drinking myself into a margarita coma during dinner at a lovely Mexican restaurant, riding a commodo dragon, crotch grabbing an angry Orc, a visit to Wellington Zoo, an engagement party & a 30th birthday party.

I got back from Wellington on Monday night after spending the weekend doing fun stuff with my best ho.

Have you ever seen a baboon get wood while staring hardout at you? While you are standing next to a whole load of small people & bretherens, blushing & whispering to the person next to you, 'is he looking at me'?
This is not a trick question FYI. This happened to me last weekend.

I was so excited about going to stay with Kye. There was much bung fizzing & I literally could not write last week because of said fizzy bunghole. Plus I was up to my flaps in work. Always busy. Always things to be done. I exhaust me sometimes.

I love this girl. Our friendship spans 2 decades.

On Saturday afternoon, post lazing around her house all morning letting the remains of Friday nights alcohol consumption wear off, we decided to venture outside & visit Wellington Zoo. Best friends husband was keen to see some captive animals & I was all like 'huzzah fuckers, lets do this' except a little less energetic than he.

Kylie had previously informed me about some large foreign Baboons living at the zoo that do dirty things to themselves. Like perform self fellatio. She also told me that the zoo sits atop a bitch mountain so some exercise would be required in order to see the fellatio monkeys. Whatever. Take me there now.

We paid the $20 entry fee ($20!!! You flaming ass rapers. Fuck you.) & began our dangerous trek up the zoo mountain. There were stops on the way to look at shit, to pee & rehydrate.

I had my legs exposed in a faded blue denim mini. In hopes that the sun would turn my bullshit sparkly twilight legs a light shade of tan. In hindsight this was not a good choice. It was hotter than hell & there was some slight chaffage on the inner thigh region. Nothing says inappropriate day wear more than raw legs & a sweaty clunge.

Finally, weather beaten & slightly parched from the rare Wellington summers day, we arrived at the Baboon enclosure.

On first glance they just seemed like normal Baboons. I informed my associates, regardless of the fact that it was highly unlikely to happen thanks to a thick protective glass window & electric fence surrounds, under no circumstance bare your teeth at them because they would rip your face off & wear it as a mask.

I learnt this in Africa when a shit tonne of Baboons decided to join us at a resort swimming pool. I kept my teeth firmly inside my head.

Back to the zoo....Big Daddy Baboon number 1, was sitting right in front of the window, on a rock, people watching. It was at this stage that I noticed his skinny pink monkey dick was also laid out on the rock in front of him people watching. Much pointing & laughter ensued. He obviously became self conscious & turned his back to the prying eyes of the public.

This however, did not stop him from reaching down & having a tug on it every 30 seconds.

Moving on to the next man Baboon, he too had his bell end hanging out. And it was leaving wet marks on the rock on which it lay. GAG!

It was also at this time that I noticed that he had an erection. I couldn't take much more. I felt ashamed. There were a few kids there oblivious to the copious monkey dick on display for us. Torn by my emotions, I walked away. Then I came back for another look just to be sure. Yep definitely monkey dick.

Photographic Evidence. My pleasure.

And every time I came back for just one more look, he got wood. I think it may have had something to do with the pink top I was wearing. According to the wall of facts by the Baboon enclosure, male baboons find pink attractive. Mainly pink female baboon asses but who cares. I still felt awesome. And dirty. Maybe my shirt reminded him of bacon? Hell I get lady wood over bacon.

After the zoo visit, we went to Peter Jackson's Weta Cave. If you don't know who Peter Jackson is then fuck you. He is the Jesus of NZ Film & responsible for the rest of the world thinking New Zealanders are all stocky midgets with giant hairy feet who stab orc monsters & throw magic rings into a gaping fiery sky vagina (Lord of The Rings).

I got to fondle Orc scrotum, & I tried to distract Golum with my bacon shirt while I stole his fish. WIN.

My man was packing big monster goolies.

My precious.

Earlier in the day, I booked us a table a Las Margaritas, a Mexican restaurant in the Hutt. I don't drink much anymore but when I get the opportunity to neck some Margarita's, I'm on that shit like an itchy scrot rash.

Over the course of an hour & a half, I knocked back 4. I was completely maggoted by 8pm & shit got weird.

Shit starts going downhill about now

And then shit got really weird.

We ended up hitting the clubs in Petone. There's only 2.

And while waiting for our ride home I pissed down a side street alleyway. It was dark there so I downloaded a flashlight app on to my iPhone so I could avoid pissing on my nice lady shoes. There was no one around so I thought I was safe as.

This was until I was half way through an alcohol fuelled power piss when 2 people decided to walk up the path where I was squatting, holding my iPhone above my head with the flashlight app on STROBE. I panicked. I attempted to whip my jeans up but I just couldn't stop the onslaught of wee. My big white ass hanging out there for all to see under the flashing disco light of my iPhone.

How embarrassing. So what did I do? I waved at them. I fucking waved.

Then I dropped my phone & pissed all over my nice lady shoes.

I hope y'all have missed me. Cos I missed you.

Peace, love & soggy pants,

P.S I will draw the knuckle duster coffee mug prize later this week. Right now I need sleep. And maybe a sneaky fondle of the husbands goodies. I've missed him too.

P.P.S Meet Loretta (cheers Hoody). My new guitar baby. She's a beauty.