Olympic News with Bex

It's been two weeks since my last confession since I last posted. In between turning 33 & my body trying to murder me & being constantly balls deep in busy, I am left with little to no energy when I get home from work. Plus the Olympics is on. I am pretty much non-communicado during the Olympics. Because I love that shit hard.

Here is a list of things I think about the Olympics.

1. Spandex.
Suffocated diddles & lady bangers all over the show. While I don't pay particular attention to the beaves monsters, one finds it literally impossible to not look at the clear outline of ones penis when snuggled tightly in spandex. I look on in wonder at how none of those boys seem overly self conscious that all that stands between their dangly bit & the outside world is a nut hugging piece of cloth. I don't have a problem with it per say. I just don't get how no-ones bothered. If I was an elite sports person representing my country which would never happen due to me owning a pair of uber boobs, I would be covering that shit up. Mainly because my glorious fangina likes to eat my pants sometimes.

2. Funny names.
We have confirmed early on in my blogging life that I am quite immature for my age. While that may be the case, I dare you to say out loud the names I am about to write here & tell me you don't omit a small laugh at at least one of them.

Fanny Babou - swimming, France
Semen Antanov - basketball, France
Andreas Bube - trace, Denmark
Imran Butt - hockey, Pakistan
Yoshie Takeshita, volleyball, Japan
Gavin Smellie, track, Canada
Peter Mankoc, swimming, Slovenia
Carole Peon, rhythmic gymnastics, France
Victoria Poon, swimming, Canada
Werner Muff, equestrian, Switzerland
Dong Dong, trampoline, China
Shitaye Eshete, track, Bahrain

And my all time favourite........Hulk, soccer, Brazil

3. They are all freaks of nature.
I'm not sure what god or whoever invented people (I'm still torn on this one) was on when he invented athletes, but these Olympians are freaks. Whilst watching the woman's 10,000 metre run (aka hellfuckery of the highest order) over the weekend, I had to hold my pillow over my face to stop me from sympathy vomiting for these bitches. It's sick man. Awesome sick. Never in my life so far have I woken up & thought to myself, I might just try running 10,000 kilometres today to see if I'm any good. Because in my world, THAT IS NOT FUN. Same applies for Triathlons (I would rather eat a jar of bees) & the funny duck walk marathon (I would rather be face raped by a camel spider).

4. The Horsey events.
I don't get it. I sat & watched the dressage & I still have no idea what the hell happened. It's a little bit like awkward horse ballet. Then the rider gets all the medals. Which I think is total bullshit.

If I am not mistaken, the devil beast did all the work? Therefore it should get the medal/flowers & stand on the podium doing the ugly crying face while it's national anthem is played.

5. You just won a medal bitch, get happy.
Yesterday I watched the men's lightweight double sculls. Our fullas got 3rd. Right on Storm & the other guy whose name I can't remember!!! Team GB got silver. And one of them cried like a bitch. Because he was sad his seat broke.

While I fully support our competition, especially the Brits cos I got me a whole bunch of British homies, one would think that before the race you would check that all your shit is working? Yes no? Zac Purchase's seat popped off like a midget in a cabbage factory. Hard luck guys. Those Danes road like the clappers & in the end, deserved to win the gold. I'm sincerely sorry you only won a SILVER FUCKING MEDAL AT THE OLYMPIC GAMES!!! Jeeze...... lets drink wine & get depressed y'all.

6. Cry me a river.
Note to self: learn how to cry without looking like I just necked a whole shit tonne of lemons, in case I ever get myself on international TV for being baller at an Olympic sport. This will never happen (see number 3) but it is important to pre plan just in case. Because I ain't going out like this......

I like to call this one 'The Pirate Cry'

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Mace in the Face





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Smelly fingers & Pain in Loins

I just won gold.

Please call me a Waaaaambulance.

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ME SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD.

(said in the voice of Ludo from The Labryinth)

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I like Andy Murray.

He is doing the Pirate Cry as well.



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I would just like to state, for the record, that I would cry too. I have an uncontrollable emotions problem. So it's ok guys, don't feel like a dick about it.

7. Gender Confusion.
I watched the shot put this morning while getting ready for work. Our girl Valerie Adams was competing & I bloody love her. Anyway she ended up getting a silver medal which is awesome, but my issue is that she got beaten by this dude. In the woman's shot put. Tell me I am not wrong?

However, this dude is awesome. Like for real motherflippin kickass awesome. I love all people no matter their gender, race or sexual preference. If you have a dick & like to compete in women's sporting events, fair play to ya. You have a bigger pair of scroti than I will ever have. Literally.

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Some much has been happening since we last spoke. A ball point pen exploded in my hand at work without me noticing & I smeared it all over my face like I was about to go duck shooting. No one told me. So spent all day walking around like a cool guy with blue ink all over my mug. Awesome.

For the first time in a month, I felt like cooking a delicious meal for my love. And everything was going well until I was seasoning the dish before popping it in the oven, & the lid came off my salt grinder & salt went goddam everywhere. I couldn't save the food. So instead I chucked a massive wobbly in the middle of the kitchen.

Last week I celebrated my 33rd birthday. However on my actual birthday I was too sick & too busy to acknowledge it. How can someone be too sick yet too busy at the same time you ask?? Well I can. Because in my own way, I too am a freak of nature.

Happy Birthday to Becky.

Cutting my works 50th Birthday cake on my 33rd birthday.

Very sick & slightly ratarsed. Hence the shit eating grin.

I got a swearing tourettes turtle from my lovely German friend Miriam. He isn't a real turtle. And when you press his left turoob (turtle boob) he shouts out all sorts of expletives. She also gave me a bell that I can ring when I fancy a shag from my husband. Ha.

Peace, love & turtle boobies,