How to not be a dick on a plane.

It is true, like the Incredible Hulk, I am pretty much angry all the time. But also like him (The Avengers version of him), I tend to keep my hate rage in check as much as I can.

However, after spending a large amount of time trapped inside a flying tin can of doom in recent years, I've decided it's time to educate the masses on how to not be a dick on a plane. Because quite frankly, people on planes rip my tits in a variety of ways.

Snakes on a plane I can handle. A bunch of dicks on a plane I simply can not.

Your carry on bag is the size of my car.
It never fails to astound me the size of some people's carry on luggage.

I take a shoulder backpack when I travel long haul. And my handbag. Sometimes if I'm feeling extra adventurous, I jam my handbag INSIDE my backpack. My carry on bag normally contains clean undergarments (cos no one likes to sit beside a stinky steam hole), banger/body wipes (again for aesthetic reasons & courtesy to fellow travellers), a book, some moisturiser, snacks, my ipod & a big ass bottle of water. This all fits nicely within the confines of my travel pack.

I'm not planning on dressing up like a Vegas show girl & can canning down the aisle whilst 30,000 feet in the air, or putting on a complimentary magic show, with rabbits & turtle doves. Hence, why I don't need to take much on board the plane. I choose to travel light.

I would like to know why it is necessary for some people to bring a huge fuck off suitcase as their carry on luggage, then proceed to get pissy pants when they find they can't shove it in the overhead compartment because it's too big? Question: Does your hoard of crap weigh less than 7kg as legally required by the *WAA (World Aviation Authority)? No it does not you asshole! Your bag weighs the same as a baby rhino. And if our plane goes down on the way to wherever we are going due to masses of excess shit you insist on carrying, I am cutting off your leg with my plastic aero catering knife & beating the living snot outta yo ass with your own severed leg.

* The WAA does not exist. I made it up. I got carried away being creative & all.

I watched on in awe, as person after person, with their stupid giant carry on suitcase, got on the plane then proceeded to either take up the entire overhead storage compartment or need assistance from the flight attendant to ram their clearly over sized bag into said bag holder.

What the hell is wrong with you!!? Have you got emergency supplies packed in your gargantuan asshole bag because you are so anxious the plane might just shit itself & nosedive into the wilderness? Are you planning on keeping the entire plane load of people alive with all of your bullshit? You really truly suck. Like an extra large carry on bag filled with dicks kinda suck.

Some of the bags I saw while on my way to/from Cancun were bigger than my actual suitcase. The suitcase checked in at the check in counter where big suitcases are supposed to be left. And on one of my flights, I had to have my own small backpack put in a locker about 2 miles away from my seat because all the douchebags around me insisted on taking up ALL of the designated space with their giant space raping bags.

Respect your fellow flyer's people & either check that shit in with your other luggage or practice some goddamn minimalism. The only things you really need in the air is good air con, a life jacket, an oxygen mask & a little prayer to Jesus that the pilots didn't get on the chop the night prior or have some sort of narcotic dependency issue. Don't drink & fly homies!

Don't get insane in the membrane on the vino pre-flight por favor.
On my way home from Buenos Aires, I had the great unpleasure of sitting beside an extremely inebriated man wank. For a while I thought I was going to have 2 whole seats to myself for the entire 14 hours back to NZ, however, just as the gate was closing a baldy drunk fuck stumbled up the aisle & planted his ass right beside yours truly.

He turned towards me, & spat a wootanged to buggery 'Hello' right at my face.

I was horrified.

Not only was he nearly in an alcohol fuelled coma, but he was also glad eyeing me up like a piece of prized beef.

I had two options. Either I killed him right then & there, or I plied him with even more alcohol in hopes he would bomb out for the whole flight.

Due to my fear of being pack raped by a tag team of butch lesbianess crims in an Argentinian woman's prison, I chose the legal & less bloody route. And I succeeded. It slept. Huzzah!

The only downside was, he stunk like the carpet in a nudie bar at 3am on a Sunday morning. Stale cigarettes, vagina's & cheap red wine.

SEE...I DEADED HIM.

AND I NEED TO TELL YOU IN CAPS LOCK.

Once he fell asleep, I basically spent the whole flight home hugging the the window side of my seat. There was no way in hell that that dirty drunk was touching me. It was uncomfortable & I'm pretty sure I re-broke my tail bone, but what I displayed during that flight was the ultimate dedication. Dedication to my own personal safety. Broken ass or not.

And I may or may not have slightly pissed my own pants. Because of his aisle seat status & being in a drunken sleep coma, I could either mount his lap to get to the aisle or wee in my pants. I chose to hold that shit in hardout. 14 hours is a really long time to hold urine in your bladder. I feel I should clarify that.

The moral of this story is to not get drunk before or during your flight. And never travel alone. Because being forced to sit so close to a complete stranger, that you can hear their trapped bogie flappers echoing around in their nasal cavity SUCKS FESTY BALL SAC.

When the seat belt light goes on, that means SIT THE FUCK DOWN.
Basically, the flights attendants do not want to be scraping your mug off the ceiling of the aircraft if the plane decides to dickout for a moment & throw your body around the plane like a grasshopper in an empty coke can. It's for your own health & safety. For reals.

So next time that seatbelt light goes on, & you hear something like 'we ask that all passengers please be seated with seat belts fastened as we make our way through some bad weather/turbulence/death fury lightening storm', sit your backend back in your dam seat man!

Unless you are planning on starting a conga line, then do your thing because I would like to see that.

No one cares if you look like a bag of assholes with matching hair.
Even though I am obviously really good looking, not even I can look awesome all the time.

For me, travelling long haul is not a fashion show. No one can be expected to look their best at all times. If that was the case, I would never be allowed to fly. Ever. I fully embrace aero-ugly.

It never fails to bewilder me, why, 1 hour before a flight is due to land, everyone needs to utilise the 45cmx45cm bathroom facility to doll themselves up? This means dislodging their massive carry on bag from overhead compartment & dragging it behind them like a corpse into the tiny lavatory. I don't know where you stand in there because your bag will take up all the space! Clearly I am still pissed about the bag thing.

A small piece of advice if you please. When you land, before you go through customs, you will pass many many bathrooms. Big bathrooms, with large spacious counter tops & a bevy of toilet stalls. Why not wait & use it? Revel in the glory of space. At no hinder or annoyance to the fellow traveller who's really busting for a piss & has to stand, holding crotch, while you give yourself a half hour Boeing 747 lav makeover.

After you finally get your ignorant ass out of the toilet, the raging death stare the patiently waiting person avec moist undies is giving you, will take atleast 10 years off your life. It's the rules.

I took 30 years off someone's life while on my flight from Argentina to Mexico City. All 3 times I got up to wee, the same whore beat me to it every time. Then she would trap herself in there for approximately 40 minutes each time. Now I'm not sure what she was doing in there, & unless it involved Johnny Depp & masturbation, I really don't care. But when she came out the third time I had to say something to her.

Me: Excuse me. You do realise there's 357 other passengers on this flight that may at some time need to use this here lavatory. Why are you taking so dam long?

Whore: "No hablo Engles".

Me: Fuck you (in my inside voice)

As it turns out, the third time I waited on this girl, she'd left her cellphone sitting by the basin. **So I threw it in the toilet & pressed the suckhole of doom button. You know the vortex flush that makes you grateful that you aren't still sitting on the toilet cos it would clearly suck your inside self right out your bum. Yep, that one.

When I opened the door, she was loitering outside the door. In desperation she asks me in Spanglish if I find her cellphone.

Bitch please.

Me: "No cellphone in here Senorita?". *I shrug my shoulders & walk back to my seat.

I know man. I'm such a bitch. But she needed to learn her lesson. That using your cellphone on a flight & purposely engaging the toilet for longer then necessary is VERY naughty.

I am a one woman vigilante disciplinarian. The Universe will repay me one day, I just know it.

** I didn't flush it down the toilet. Because even though I pretend to be a tough guy asshole, I'm actually not. It's SO annoying.

Standing up as soon as the plane touches down will not get you into the terminal faster than me.
Do you know how I know this? Well I don't have the answers. But I'm just really sneaky like that.

You can bet your hairy bunghole that the head steward will come over the intercom & tell you to sit your ass down until the plane has come to a complete stop.

Then when you least expect it, I will be up, with my backpack on, waiting at the very front to get off that plane. I don't need to piss around wrestling mammoth carry on baggage because, & I think we've already clarified, I got the smarts.

People underestimate my size. They think because I'm a chubs, I am also a human sloth. Not so. I can move like a dam whippet when I need to. And I can shape shift my girth through the most ridiculous small spaces.

I stay seated until the plane stops. And I don't turn my mobile on until they say I can. I abide by the aviation rules, because I want to get in to heaven when I die.

Standing against the baggage conveyor belt like a human magnet is not fair play.
I get stressed out waiting for my bag to come through the flappy plastic things at the baggage claim. I've had my bag go missing before, & I've also had my suitcase vandalised & belongings stolen.

When you have 3 flights in succession to your destination, actually meeting your bag at the other end is a 50/50 chance.

It's really uncomfortable standing round the baggage carasol like a sleep deprived zombie, being stealthily watched over by the uniformed airport security nazis.

I don't like it one bit.

And when the bags start to roll on through, it's on bitches. I will fuck kick, bitch slap & bite may way through the desperate throng. That's how much I love my bag.

I think airports should have a ready-set-go line that all passengers should be kept behind. Once that first bag comes through, they should let off loud noise & release the people. Turn it into a race. Maybe some exciting danger music just to set the mood?

Whoever makes it out uncut & without having to have their bag ramsacked by Customs, is declared the winner. The prize is a sexy front bum cavity search but a celebrity of your choosing.

I already have my top 3 celebs picked out just in case. Ladies, you can thank me later. (With chips or Butterfingers. Email me for my postal address).
1. Richard Kahui. He's hot. No explanation needed.

2. Eric Bana. God Bless Australia.

3. Brad Pitt (yeah I know so predictable but fucking HELLO). In his Troy costume.

OR an Eric & Brad man sandwhich, both in their Troy costumes, even better!! Excuse me while I leave the room to fondle my front bum for a short while.......

JOKES! I didn't really leave the room silly!!! HA.

Contraire to popular belief, you can smell farts in the air.
I know this, because I tested this theory many times on my recent vacation.

I always thought that because of cabin pressure & stuff, that farts were banished on release from anus.

Not so.

I had a bad case of post stomach bug baffs on my way to Buenos Aires. Regardless of my grand efforts to keep farts clenched firmly within my buttocks, I failed miserably. Let me tell you something for nothing, sure you can't hear them due to the loud rumble of the jet engines, but you can most definitely smell them.

I found this out when my seat buddy vomited into his complimentary Aerolineas Argentinas sick bag. At first I thought maybe he suffered from travel sickness. Turns out no. He just has a baby stomach.

I couldn't smell them. Because I bought some tea tree flavoured anti-jetlag nasal spray from the chemist at the International departure terminal. I sprayed so much of that stuff up my head during that flight, I basically blew my brains out. I did not follow the instructions. And in my own desperation to avoid jet lag at all costs, I overdosed, gave myself a bleeding nose, & lost all sense of smell for 24 hours.

Lesson learnt. Next time I will read the directions.

The main tip to plane farting is to sit on the fucker. Trap it with you own butt cheeks like a squirrel & don't you dare move. After about 2 hours the seat cushion with suck up the scent & you will be free to move.

That is all.

Peace, love & aeroplane farts

P.S You know I could've gone on but seriously this post is pretty long. Thank you for sticking it out. I wish I could give you a prize for your amazing stamina. For now, I will gift your with my love. My pleasure.

A Centipede bit me on the ass. And then I stomped on it's head. Actually I'm lying. I ran away screaming like a bitch.

I know y'all probably been thinking shit for real she did get eaten by the Mexican Tree Cat? Our dear sweet Becky Boo disappeared from the Blogosphere forever & ever, assaulted by a face eating muchacho bush feline.....to write about toilets & scrotum no more. Sad faces a plenty. Le sigh.

A single lonely grief tear rolls down your cheek & splashes onto the screen of your iPhone/laptop/iPad. Which you immediately wipe off with the sleeve of your jersey because holy christ, hot salty tears will damage the delicate layer of whatever that shit is protecting the screen & it really did cost a lot of money so you must protect it with YOUR LIFE!!

Dramatic enough for you?

Fear not my man-hos & whorettes, for I hath returned. Face fully in tact but jetlagged to buggery.

Coincidentally, the day before we were about to fly out of NZ, the universe decided it would a good time to inflict me with a disease I like to call, shit & vomit 5kg of my own body weight out of various orifices like a goddam geyser till I lay in a floor coma in the bathroom-itis.

Timing has never been a strong characteristic of mine but thankfully everything subsided early that evening.

I must confess that even though I felt better, I actually wasn't. My backend felt like it had been wiped clean with a cheese grater & all the honking left me feeling washed out & lacklustre. I'd lost my shine. Down the toilet. Miraculously, as soon as I stepped onto Mexican soil, I felt fine. Huzzah!!

Please note: I would just like to half-heartedly apologise to the obese Australian man I sat beside on the 13 hour flight from NZ to Argentina. I did indeed breath all over you like a dragon in hopes I would dispel the bug from my own sickly carcass to your large manly girth. You dug the arm rest into my left thigh one time too many & your deafening man snoring kept me awake the WHOLE FLIGHT. Due to my lack of energy, I had no fight left in me. I was left with no other option except breathing my sickness all over your face because quite frankly I hated your face so hard. You're welcome.

I flew, in total, 49.8 hours. With a 7.5 hour stop over in Buenos Aires on the way over, & a 12 hour layover there on the way back. It raped me SO hard.

We arrived back on Saturday afternoon & the last few days, I've been a massive space head. I spent $200 at the Supermarket & I had no idea I'd even been there? I feel like I've gone batshit nato on a plate of potent hash cookies & my brain is floating in an alternate universe somewhere far far away from my body.

I'm coming back down to earth though. One day at a time. And today is Anzac Day in New Zealand & Australia. A day we have off to remember the war veterans that fought for our respective countries in the Galipolli War. Thank you sweet Jesus to those Veterans for giving me a day to rest my space hash cookie travel head!! We remember them x

Bibs, Me & Blake in Isle Mujere.

Anyway, I have so much to tell you all. Cancun is the balls. Here is why......
The ocean is warm. The ocean is turquoise which is a nice colour. The sand on the beach in front of the ocean is like talcum powder. I was all over the Caribbean like a goddam teste rash.

Mexican people, well the ones in Cancun that I encountered, are so warm & friendly, it nearly made me sick in my own hand. I kept getting asked if I was from Germany because of my blue eyes. One man in the airport told me I was a beautiful. However, I am pretty sure he just wanted to ram some cocaine up my anuses & use me as a drug transportation vessel.

Unlimited food & drink 24/7, is my kind of paradise. I had approximately 147 Strawberry Margarita's & 53 Pina Colada's & 92 Carona's. Salut muthafuckas.

I've never stayed in an all inclusive resort before so as you can imagine, upon arriving at Fiesta Americana Condessa, I shat in my own pants from wonder & delight at the gloriousness I was seeing. The Resort was amazing. I have absolutely zilch complaints from our entire stay there.

It's hot as hell in Cancun. I fainted once. Not because I'm unfit but because the sun tried to fry my brain in my own skull. On the coast it's balmy & bearable but I was still sweaty in places too polite to mention. Like my butt crack & front bum, inner thighs & back. Basically everywhere I have skin pores. The day we went to Chichen Itza was the day I passed out. It was about 40 degrees Celsius & regardless of the fact I was downing a shit tonne of water & wearing a hat to keep the monster sun off my head, towards the end of our tour I was stumbling around the Mayan ruins like a drunkard. Luckily Blake caught me before I face planted into the dirt. He was protecting his investment. Ha.

The Mayan Ruins we did visit (Tulum & Chichen Itza), were so bloody magical. I'm not really into history but these places were really something else. I managed to stay interested for the majority of the tours we went on, until the sun tried to kill me, then I was so gone. Blake took about 50,000 photos of the ruins & because of my terrible short term memory I can not tell you anything about them. Good old Uncle Google will be happy to fill you in on everything I can't remember.

I went snorkeling in an Eco Marine Park & in the actual ocean. I haven't snorkeled much in my life but holyshit y'all I think I have discovered my new favourite water sport. I spent hours snorkeling around the reefs & lagoons, marvelling at the copious amounts of tropical fish.  It is one of the coolest things I have ever done & I can not wait for summer to return so I can snorkel in my own ocean ghetto.

I went to a mexican Walmart. Yes I did. Our first day there we were free to rest up & do what we wanted. We met a young couple from Canada who informed us that Walmart is the best place to buy cheap souvenirs to take home to family & friends. Yes we are cheap bastards. Anyway, I got quite flappy excited & we caught the bus to Walmart. That was near death experience that we'll leave for another post.

We spent two hours in Walmart. It was so shit but so great all at the same time. The highlight was when my mother in-law picked up a wooden flute from the musical souvenirs section & rammed it in her piehole, proceeding to blow a tune on it. Blake & I were horrified at the potential mouths that had previously sucked on said flute & informed her that she would most definitely get AIDS of the mouth. Also I was quite taken by their excellent air con & utilised the time to aerate my sweaty bits.

The only thing I can think of off the top of my spacey head that I didn't like about Cancun was that something smells there. Like sulphury baff farts. Every now & then you get a big whiff of it & it seriously singes your nose hairs. I am not 100% sure what it's from. You especially notice it when on the bus heading to/from downtown Cancun. Me thinks it may be something to do with their sewer system? Hence why I only drank bottled water the entire time we were there. I'd already been reamed by a stomach bug thank you.

I got bitten on the ass by a centipede. At Cancun International Airport as I was about to fly to Buenos Aires. I don't know how it got in my pants in the first place but suffice to say, when I saw the multi legged bastard crawling across the sleeve of my hoody not 10 minutes after being bitten on the ass by a mysterious insect I could not locate, I freaked the fuck out. I had not long bid a tearful adieu to my hubs & mother in-law as they were flying from a different terminal to LA. I wasn't going to see them again til we met up in Auckland Airport in NZ & upon discovering the Centipede, decided that I was going to die & probably arrive home in a body bag with a gangrenous poisoned ass cheek. Fuck a bitch.

As it turned out, it wasn't poisonous. And I didn't get gangrene in my ass cheek & die. Sweet.

Cancun was AMAZING. Obviously we all knew it was going to be right? I really hope I can go back there some day.

But for now I am home.  And I'm always happy to be home. In the coming weeks you will be hearing from me more than often. This is not optional, it is going to happen.

I'm not going to put all my holiday pics on this post because combined we had like 800. But if you want to check them out, click on my Facebook link below. I have to warn you that they aren't in order. Even though I spent about 5 hours putting them in order. Facefuck had other ideas & messed them all up again. Dick.

I will also ask that you please put on a pair of sunglasses. The reason being is that I am quite possibly the whitest human you will ever see & in some photo's I'm wearing my togs. It's possible the blinding glare of my porcelain skin may leave you with irrepairable damage to your retinas. I don't want to be responsible for that kind of pain.

See my Cancun photo's here. If it doesn't work, don't go hatin on me.

I didn't do a monthly giveaway last month. Because I was neck deep in work bullshit & didn't have time. So I will do two the 1st of May. Whoop!

Check y'all laters.

Peace, love & Centipede bitten ass cheeks,

P.S My darling Johi, no babies were made on this Cancun trip due my my feral vagina deciding to unleash it's menstruation fury. Yet another timing fail x

I'm not scared of much. Just getting my face eaten by a Mexican tree cat.

In between my backend exploding uncontrollably like a thermal geyser & projectile vomiting out my pie hole, I thought I take the time to bid you all adieu as I depart on my Mexico trip.

I went home sick from work yesterday with a gut bug. At first I thought maybe it was just a little anxiety but then I started getting hot & cold sweats & not able to keep water down. Somewhere in the universe, some twisted sonofabitch is having a laugh at my expense. Not funny you fuck!!

The good news is that it seems to have passed. I ate a banana about an hour ago & it hasn't come back up yet. *fistpump

I'm not afraid of much in life apart from feet & sweaty hands. And Gorillas. And being stuck on a plane for 12 hours with diarrhoea. The scariest thing in the bush in NZ is a possum. Or an Orc. But lets be real now, Orcs only kill Hobbits. And I am way taller than those hairy footed carni people. If threatened, a possum will rearrange your face with it's razor sharp claws. However I have never heard of this happening to anyone. And I have come across many possums. Mainly artistically mashed into the back roads of rural New Zealand.

When the time comes to depart the safe hub of my motherland, I spend hours (no lie) scouring the net for a heads up on what could possibly eat me/bite me/sting me in the country of which I am about to visit.

This is a relatively new type of paranoia for me. Something changed in me when I got married that made me scared of foreign nature.

It may have something to do with the bevy of curious insects that tried to kill me when I was in Africa.

My first run in was with some fire ants. We have ants in NZ. Small suburban black ants. But they don't bother us humans. They just get on with their shit & we get on with ours. We co-exist in peace. And if any want to get up in my business, it's nothing a good old stomp or ant bait won't fix to pull them back in line. Much to my hippy husbands disgust, I'm not abhorred to showing bugs their place in the universe. And there place is nowhere near me.

Fire ants move at approximately 300km an hour. And when they bite you, your skin feels like a faulty Chinese cigarette lighter has spontaneously combusted in the back pocket of your pantaloons. This has never actually happened to me before but one can only imagine it would hurt like a bastard.

I tried my hardest to dodge the fire ants. Mainly by long jumping over the frenzied red masses on the pavements. Somehow, beyond the realms of gravity, the fire ants still somehow managed to get on me. I was terrified of them. I even had my trainers float beside me in the pool so I could put them on before I got out.

And then there are the giant bitey ants. They are HUGE. And they invaded our apartment when we were staying in a game reserve. We couldn't get rid of them, so avoided them as best as we could. This included my wearing shoes in my sleep & wrapping myself like a hot dog in my blankets while I slept.

Bees are fucking stupid. I know they are natures workers & all, but they are also a pain in my ass. I could be standing in a circle with 1000 people singing Kumbayah & a bee will locate me & begin it's dance of terror raid. I don't know what the deal is with me & bees. But I obviously have something they want. I do not know what that something is.

Africa has a type of waspy bee bastard called a Hornet. If a Hornet decides it wants to sting you, it will dive bomb the shit out of you until you are so tired from fuck kicking it mid air, that you will willingly lay down let it have you.

We also spent a night staying on my husbands cousins pecan nut farm in the ass end of nowhere. From the moment we pulled into the driveway I knew I was in for one hell of a night in the wilderness. The old homestead was surrounded by avocado trees. I asked, out of curiosity, if they ever had any spiders frequent their homestead, to which they answered, only the odd rain spider once or twice a year & a few snakes. It was at this stage that I emptied a whole can of bug off all over my body.

And during that night of fear I came across TWO rain spiders, a big bitch dragon fly that tried to eat my eyes while I was sleeping & learnt about the wiley ways of the tic. Two words. FUCK THAT. I am NOT cut out for natures fury.

Mexico itself houses a plethora of bitey killer bugs & mammals. I am not even scared of being caught in a druglord shoot out, I can pump a pistol with my eyes removed. However when it comes to bugs, snakes & jaguars, it's a whole other story. I have researched thoroughly & I do not plan of having a close encounter with any of the following.

Deer Tics. Teste Fly. Brown Recluse Spider. The Pussy Caterpillar. Assassin Bug. The Screw Worm Fly. Coral Snakes. Malaria totin' mosquito's. Ocelot. Mexican Wolf. Jaguar. Mexican Black Bear.

What in the frigging hell is up with all you other countries & your furious feral wildlife?? 

Right now, I'm just concentrating on not shitting my pants every time I sneeze.

See ya'll when I get back. I'm sure I will have loads of stories & photos to share when I get back. And hopefully none of those stories will involve me sharting myself or vomiting into my own handbag.

Adios Amigos!!

Love all you bitches hard out.

P.S I know I giveaway a prize at the start of every month....I will do it when I get back. Promise x