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!

Barbie got herself knocked up? By a ken with no dick.

Not much shocks me. Except for this one time when I was waiting in the car park out the back of a bar after a gig. It was 3am & I was waiting for my ride home.

Anyway the car park was filling up with late night revellers as the bars were closing & drunk fucks were spilling out into the streets like spawning time at a salmon farm.

About 5 metres away from me I noticed a young dude & his 'pull' making out on a bench seat, while the 'pulls' hot blond half naked clingon was hanging on to the back of the seat in order to stop herself from face fucking the concrete due to extreme intoxication.

Next thing, & to my horror, peroxide blond slapper ho whips her anus floss panties down, gets into a squat position & proceeds to take a drunken dump. In public. In the middle of town. While her mate continued to suck face with the random guy from the bar, oblivious to the mud currently being laid not 30cm away from her.

Now I may talk about crapping a lot, & by now y'all basically know the inner workings of my shit pipes, but know this, I would NEVER take one in front of people. Not unless you count the old guy who busted into my bathroom mid ass wipe last week. That was an unplanned attack. And totally his fault.

Drunk spaceheads staggered past en masse without so much as glancing in her direction. While sober me was forced to watch her small white moonlit backside excreting onto a grassy patch out back of the bar.

I was dying. From disgust & shock. And I wanted to march on over & kick her up the bare naked slats for being a dirty whore & committing a heinous public shit crime. But taking into consideration what was coming out of her backend, I decided against the vigilante slat kicking.

I had nice shoes on. I didn't want some bitches fecal on them.

When I finally got picked up I regaled everything to Blake in detail. It was at this time we both decided that it would be good if I, A: could take my eyes right out of my skull & soak them in Janola & B: had Will Smiths memory eraser thingy from that movie I can't remember & completely delete that turd laying from my brains hard drive.

Moving right along, watching a girl take a poo in the middle of town wasn't what I intended on posting about today. Don't be a hater. I got carried away.

My in laws just got back from an extended holiday in South Africa. Hubs & I went around to visit them last night & give the kids their christmasbirthday presents. We got Miss 5 a kickass Princess Barbie Pony. Cos goddam Princess Barbie Horse was the BALLS. And she loves the ass off Barbie anything.

After the unveiling of the awesome Princess Barbie Horse, Miss 5 decided to introduce me to her knew toy, Pregnant Barbie.

2 questions.

How did I not know such thing existed?

And secondly. WHAT THE FUCK.

Pregnant Barbie has a rotating abdominal wall. She can be pregnant. Or not pregnant. With a quick slight of hand, it's like a friggin magic trick.

Lift her maternity tunic, pop the top off her belly like the lid of a Tic Tac packet, & HELLO horror movie Barbie baby is laying within her carcass in a position that can only be described as 'fight ready'. Fists & both feet at the ready to bust out some judo chops/fuck kicks to some innocent bystander.

After this I was introduced to the baby daddy Barbie. I had to double check & as expected, Ken had no dick. Just a mound. Now correct me if I am mistaken, but I was sure that mound on mound grinding could not result in a pregnancy?

Immaculate Conception Baby. Just like Jesus.

FYI - Mainly for bitches that like to start a bit of drama, this post is on no way a stab at/reflection of my sister in laws parenting skills. She is an amazing mum. Don't even go there.

Whats the most retarded childs toy you have ever seen? 

Peace, love & no public shitting,

 






P.S In hindsight I wish I had of kicked her up the jacksie. Then I could have got some new shoes. And Blake couldn't growl at me. Amen.

Camping. And why I would rather swallow a beehive whole than do it.

I don't do camping. I like things. Things like toilets that flush & refrigerators that keep your food/wine cold. I am also fond of TV. Not even the allure of the beautiful native bush excites me in the slightest. Cos I don't really give a fuck about trees. And I am a modern woman that feels safer when surrounded by her modern day appliances.

When I was a pre-teen, I was a girl guide. It was non negotiable as my mum was a girl guide leader.

We did a shit load of camping. And I hated it. Sharing a tent with 6 other bitches & a fuck tonne of blood sucking mosquito's whilst sleeping on a yoga mat was not a fun time for me. Nor did I become overwhelmed with glee when being forced to eat freshly cooked campfire food. Everything tasted like it had smoked a cigarette.

I will never forget the very first time I had to take a moonlight shit on a long drop toilet. For those that do not know what a long drop toilet is, it's a toilet that has a large hole dug under the toilet seat where all fecal & urine go. It doesn't get flushed away. Instead it sits & ferments. This fermented shit/piss cocktail omits the most rancid stench for miles which in turn attracts bugs, possums, rats & numerous other bush creatures keen for a taste of human excrement soup.

Most long drops are housed within a tin shack. In the height of summer, when the mighty southern hemisphere sun rapes every living thing, the long drop turns into a goddam sauna of death.

Taking in to account that I am afraid of the dark, & all the monsters that lurk within said darkness, I was quite prepared to take one in my pants instead of putting myself in grave danger of having my ass eaten off by a hungry shit eating rat than put my precious backend anywhere near the seat of a long drop toilet.

I loitered outside the camp long drop, deathly afraid, holding my torch like a ninja sword in order to deter all possums from trying to latch their razor claws into my scalp if they felt the need. The girl guide interrogation squad was called in & they spun me every good reason known to man about why the long drop was safe & that there was no way my ass was going to be eaten off by any ferocious animals.

They were right though. We don't have any ferocious man eating animals in NZ. In fact we have nothing even remotely dangerous in the NZ bush that could even harm a small new born baby let alone a 12 year old girl child. The only thing that could hurt me in that long drop toilet was my own mind. And Jason Vorhees scuba diving in the shit pond waiting to slash my anus to shreds with a dirty machete.

I blame Jason Vorhees for all my childhood dark fears. That fucker just would not die.

I have just returned from a few nights away at my sisters holiday home in Okiwi Bay. It's a 1 hour drive from my city & I love it down there.

We drank. We smoked. We listened to music & we talked/laughed the arse of New Years eve 2011.

We watched the entire first season of Teen Mom on MTV when it was raining & we ate everything bad.

We sat around the kitchen table in a kumbayah circle of trust eating Bread Dip. We talked about how fat our bums were while stuffing our gullets full of caramello cadbury chocolate. Irony is fucking delicious.

I bunked with my friend Amber & my 3 year old niece Kaitlyn & I slept the best I had slept in months.

I checked my iPhone incessantly for text messages & email notifications even though I knew I couldn't get any sort of  cellphone range there at all, agreeing wholeheartedly that yes I am a sick modern world obsessed fuck.

I got into the Okiwi Bay footwear trend of socks & jandals/flip flops/slops & I laughed at the smack talk notes people were leaving on the fridge door.

Okiwi Bay Footwear.

Fridge Smack Talk.

I sat in the middle of a bay while the tide was out & watched fireworks.

Waiting for Fireworks display to start.

I didn't watch or read any depressing news of the world. I escaped from my reality.

And I loved every bloody moment of it.

Now I'm back in my real world with my sexy real world husband ready to beat the ass of 2012. We are excited bout the year ahead.

Except tomorrow I have to go back to work.

And just between you & me, I would rather be locked inside a long drop shit house in the middle of summer with a dirty machete wielding Jason Vorhees.

The winners for Decembers giveaway of the 'I hate your face, especially in the morning' knuckleduster coffee mugs are....................

Ladies please flick me an email to bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your postal addresses & I will get them out to you as soon as possible.

For those of you feeling a bit blue because you didn't win this time, don't be sad, because holy heathen shitflaps I have another two more knuckleduster mugs to give away for the first month of 2012. Join me on my merry crusade to become the toilet queen of the blog world, comment on my posts for the month & you too could be rocking a hot coffee filled face smasher at the breakfast table every morning.

Are you a camping freak? Or a camping phobe like me?

Peace, love & flushing toilets,

P.S Thank god for flushing toilets, cos it seems my bowels were slightly homesick while I was away having relaxation time. But that's a story for another time. Lets just say, me & the toilet down Okiwi Bay spent a lot of time together. Fuck my life.

P.P.S Can someone please have a fancy dress party soon so I can wear this dick & balls costume. Oh I must.