Reemed.

I have been quiet this week. In Blogland atleast. If you had been living in my house you would know first hand that I have in fact not been quiet at all. Due to the fact that some infected bastard kindly passed a nasty stomach bug on to me, in turn causing me to shit & vomit 3kg of my body contents down the toilet.

I god dam mastered the art of duo orifice explosion. It all began on Thursday morning.........

About 10 minutes before my alarm was due to go off, my body woke me up. I had a wanky gut ache & the alarm bells started to holla at a bitch that if she didn't hot foot it to the lav quick smart she was gonna shit the bed. I made it just in time. And it gave me a fright because although my bowels have at times been unpredictable, I don't get bugs.

I decided that it was only a minor case of the shits so I may as well go to work. Cue onslaught of violent diarrhoea. In between showering, putting my outside face on, getting dressed ecetera. Finally making it out of the door on time, with a typical kiwi attitude (she'll be right mate) in tow.

I get to work & explode once more. This was going to be a long ass day. Except this time I was starting to feel a bit vommy too. Fuck it.

I ring my boss & give him the heads up. Basically telling him that I would prefer to shame myself within the walls of my own home as the idea of exploding out my back end while power yakking out my face at work didn't really seem like a fun time. He agreed & said I could go on home.

I had to get a taxi home because Blake was working & couldn't come get me.

I carefully placed my sick body inside a taxi & made it clear to the driver that I get home quick smart. I was afraid yo. I didn't know how long I had until I blew again.

About 200 metres from my house, my mouth started to water & I felt my breath quicken, beads of sweat appeared on my forehead & that old familiar, I is gona yak feeling, was a rising on up my esophageal pipe. Fuck. A. Bitch. I was about to spew (& more than likely shit my pants) in a taxi.

I turned to the driver with my hand over my mouth & said to him, 'I'm about to throw some money in your face & run like the wind. You don't want me in your car'. By this stage we'd made it to the forecourt of the motel where I live & I did just that. I threw money at him & bolted. Ass cheeks clenched like my life depended on it, hand over mouth, running like a muthafucka across the courtyard while curious guests watched on.

As I got closer to our apartment I could hear the shower running. Fuck. Blake was in the shower.

Before I go on, I need you to know something. For as long as we've know each other, Blake & I have never dropped a grogan while the other has been in the bathroom doing something else. Blake won't have any of it. If I need to shit while he's in the shower. I wait. If I need to pee, not a problem. But he draws the line at poo. I have always respected this request. Even though there have been times when I desperately needed to disrespect it.

I roar inside at a hundred miles an hour, remove my cardi & shoes (I have no idea why I did that?), rip open the bathroom door & screamed at Blake 'GET OUT OF THE SHOWER NOW, I AM GOING TO SHIT MYSELF!!!!!'.

To which he replied 'Baby just do it'.

And then me, in an absolute blind panic, 'I'M GOING TO SPEW AS WELL!!!!'.

With that he was out of the shower, wet & soapy, adjourning to the safety of the lounge. Me, I was de-troued, slamming my ass down onto the toilet & emptying the contents out of the small plastic rubbish bin ready to catch what was about to come up my gullet. And boy did I go off. It was bloody horrible!!

Blake bravely poked his head in the door after everything subsided to see if I was ok. He said I looked so sad sitting there on the toilet with my pants on the ground & mascara smeared all around my eyes. He also said it sounded like a demon was trying to invade my body with all the noise that was coming from the bathroom. I was fucking sad yo. I hadn't had a stomach bug in 15 years..

I take great pride in making snide remarks at basically all my friends who have kids that always seems to be sick with the latest stomach bug doing the rounds. Blake & I never get bugs. Well that was up until now.

The shit/yak fest continued on for another 6 hours. By 3pm I was angry, exhausted & 3kg lighter (Hurrah!). Then I slept for about 15 hours. I was so friggin hot. You could have fried a dozen eggs on my gluteus maximus. Blake kept checking on me to make sure I was still conscious.

I woke up when my alarm went off yesterday morning & decided seeing as I hadn't shat or vomited in a while I would be fine to go to work. I mean I sit at an office desk all day long. How hard could that be?

Very fucking hard, I clearly sucked at life yesterday. I spent majority of the day with my head on my desk. I felt like a washed out old rag. No energy, & I had a crankin headache. I think with all the vomming I must have busted a couple of blood vessels in my head cos god dam I couldn't shake it. My stomach gurgled loudly & angrily ALL day. I wanted to feed it but I was too afraid of what might happen if I did.

Fast forward to Saturday morning & I feel remarkably better. But still a little bit off. I am sitting up on the couch watching the food Network channel in my PJ's & I'm a bit mad at myself because I just bought a Shark Steam Cleaner off shopping channel. Fuck me, seriously. Their infomercial won me over. And if this bitch actually does what it claims to then I will be happy & less guilty for spending a weeks wages.

Blake hasn't got the bug yet but he is going to shit himself when he finds out I just bought this. Boo. However, when he does go apeshit & does the 'disappointed in my rebellious wife' face, I have saved the link for the website so he can read the product reviews. People are lovin' this machine. Plus we won't need any cleaning chemicals in our house anymore which appeals to our inner hippies son! And at least I didn't buy an actual Shark.

So while you were all having your Thanksgiving celebrations, or my fellow Ho's from this side of the world were just nailing an average Thursday, I was giving thanks to soft toilet paper & a husband that still loves me when clearly my body had chucked this shitshow in. Oh & I am thankful for my Shark Steam Pocket that will soon be arriving at my house.

I

Thanksgiving or not, what are you thankful for today?

Peace & fizzy bung holes,

P.S Mike someone, my lovely personal trainer, rang me on Thursday night to ask me where I was & why I hadn't been to the gym. Much to his disgust I proceeded to tell him exactly why I'd been a no show & he happily accepted the excuse. I love not having to lie to him!!

P.P.S As of 8:35am Saturday morning I am still 3kgs lighter. Awesome!!



Hatin' On: Bare Naked Beaves

I've never quite got the allure of a fully shaven bagina. This may be down to the fact that I am not a lesbian, a man or have a penchant for getting all up in a lady's beave when I'm drunk & confused, aka bi-sexual. Nothing against the lady lovers. I have gay friends & I love the shit out of them regardless of their sexual preference. One love people!!

In fact, the only first hand experience I've had with another lady's cootch (apart from thoroughly enjoying accidentally watching the odd banger movie) is a day in my early 20's aptly titled  'Face full of Fanny'. This particular day my sister, a good friend & I were sitting on the porch of our flat smoking cigarettes. In the excitement of the nicotine party, my friend accidentally knocked the flaming ash end of her fag down her crotchal region. Cue legs flailing in the air & much box punching. (her punching her own box, I wasn't going near it).

It was during this frenzy that I got a face full of her burning kooka. She had decided not to wear underwear that day. Big ups. It's hotter than hedes here in summer & no one likes a sweaty minge. Anyway I laughed until I'd half pissed my pants. Afterwards we all sat in silence, sans eye contact, in mild shock, not quite sure what we'd just witnessed but the mental image ingrained in our minds for eternity. No one has ever spoken about it but to this date one of the funniest & most disturbing things I have ever seen.

Y'all should know that no piss muffins were injured on that day. Only minor burnage which I guess, in the area in question, is not pleasant. Since she now has a child one can only assume her poon is fully functioning & didn't suffer any long term damage.

Moving right along, to reiterate, I don't understand the fascination with bald completely hair free fanny's. Me, I keep mine maintained  because it feels cleaner. But I can't bring myself to be completely bald. I have done it a few times at the request of past loves, then immediately regretted it afterwards. For these reasons.

• It itches like fuck. Now I suffer from eczema in the creases of my groin so I'ma scratching that shit all the time anyway. Add in a freshly shaved banger & sweet Jesus I go to town. It ends up looking all red & angry which in turn does not excite the bare fanny requestee anyway so what is the god dam point.
• Box waxing hurts. I don't know this first hand because I've never had it done. I'm lucky that my muff bush city limits is not overly hairy anyway. Much to my beauty therapist sisters disgust. There ain't no way any ripping of pubi is happening in my world. I refuse to pay for pain unless it's permanent.
• The last time my muff was completely & naturally hair free was when I was 11. To me personally, a man wanting to cock punch a hairless beave is all kinds of messed up. On the few occasions I have been hairless, I couldn't look down there. It confused me. My poontang was 11 again, but the rest of me was still 22? Nothing matched & it frightened me.
• If you have sensitive skin, it can get spotty down there. It ain't pretty & I ain't talking the herps here, I'm talking ingrown hairs/mound acne. These bastards flare up like your vulv has contracted the pox all by itself. Bad bad BAD.
• The feeling of a freshly de-haired wiki rubbing against the crotch of your pants is to date the weirdest sensation I have ever experienced. While not totally unpleasant, it is cold & feels like it's being lovingly caressed by a silk pillow case. Most would think wow this must be nice, not me yo. I thinks it feels like bullshit.
• Chaffe. When the hair starts growing back, & you're grinding up on your cock monster, chaffe can happen. To him. While this isn't a bad thing for the lady, he feels like he's been manscaped by a sanding machine. Ouchy!!! On the other hand, if we're expected to bust small people out our lobes then MAN up muthafucka. A little bit of pubis chaffe ain't got nothing on a 4-way torn perineum.
• It makes everything look bigger down there when there's absence of fuzz. And I sure as shit don't like having big clanger meat shanks hanging out all over the show. This works in the mans favour when he has been de-haired, but certainly not ours.

If I came face to face with someones bare growler I would cry. Big honking afraid tears. It would be akin to having a face off with an angry baby taco.

In the olden days, sporting a muffro was the epitome of femininity. If you had an au naturel hairy goblet, the boys would all be fizzing at the bung to come to your yard. What's changed? Are the generations becoming fussier? Does the idea of an out of control Bear Trappers Hat no longer appeal? Yes it may be visually offensive but dang it still does what it's meant to.

I remember when I was a kid, accidentally (I was looking for stashed Christmas presents ok) finding a 'Joy of Sex' book in my parents bedroom. I didn't know what the fuck it was all about but I was both amazed & impressed at the 70's lady bush nearly jumping out of the book & suffocating my young face. When did it get untrendy?

I asked my husband what he thought about bare naked beaves. He said, he's not too bothered although he does like not having to dig through the bush scrub to get to the good stuff. A trimmed gon is cleaner & more presentable (like it's a god dam business propsal). Apparently. He seems quite satisfied with mine. WIN!

He also asked me why some girls smell fishy. Eau de Tuna if you please. I had to explain.

FYI - That's a god dam vag illness called Vaginitis!! You can't judge us, men folk. The Vagine does what it does. It has a mind of it's own & it's a sensitive crevasse. You wash your undies in new cheap washing powder & BOOM, you gots a nasty case of fish pants. You eat antibiotics like M&M's & BOOM, your beave goes feral on you & you end up with an intense external/internal itch so ferocious you consider chopping it out of your own body.

This young lady is displaying what I like to call 'Candida Face'.

So to you all, cornholers & beave monsters, to be fur free or hippy that shit up?. That is the question. What say you people of the universe?

I hope you enjoyed being revolted by a filthy mind. My pleasure.


Peace, love & hairy bangers

P.S Mum you better still love me. I can't control this. It's bigger than both of us.

FYI - Where Bogies Go.

WARNING: If you can't handle anything bogey related, please don't read this.You will also notice my inconsistency of spelling the word bogey. I'm not even embarrassed. I like to mix it up.

The other night, after my hubs had been standing at the door for 10 minutes having a conversation with one of the receptionists at the motel, he came back & sat beside me on the couch. Ooh exciting. But wait, there's more.....

I then kindly pointed out to him that he had an massive boog clanger attempting to abseil out the side of his left nostril. Quite large & impossible for an innocent bystander to not notice. He naturally rubbed his nose while saying 'shit do you think it was there the whole time I was talking to her?'. To which I replied, 'Yes. Yes I believe it was'. FAIL!! Then I did a my in your face fail dance. With pointy jazz fingers.

Anyway with naughty stray bogey safely restrained & hidden from my sight** on his finger, (he didn't know I was watching this by the way. He doesn't know that I can actually watch Amazing Race & watch what he's doing right beside me at the SAME TIME. I have incredible observation skills) I watched him lean forward & wipe it (I am not fucking lying right now) on the bottom of our couch like it was a piece of well chewed chuddy gum being hidden under the school desk.

**I can handle pretty much anything, except bogey. I remember once when I was about 11, a girl in my class was sitting beside me on the bus on our way to cooking/woodwork class (I went to a country school. We had to head to the big city for that shit). Anyway she had her finger buried deeply in her face canal & pulled out the biggest honking booger I have ever seen. I took one look at it & projectile yakked all over her lap. And I didn't even feel bad. Bad things happen when you behave like a dirty whore. The end.

Anyway back to the story, I turned to him & said 'what in the fuck did you just do with that bogey!!!?'.

'Um...... (sheepishly)....nothing' *hanging his head in shame because he knows I just busted him defiling our spensive lounge suite with his clanger.

'No way!! Bogie's DO NOT go there!!!'

'Well I didn't have anywhere else to put it'.......*me holding up the box of tissues on the coffee table not 30cm away from the both of us.

I then carried on with my angry tirade telling him that that is something a 3 year old boy would do & while he's at it why doesn't he go take a shit in the corner of the lounge on the carpet. He sat there looking really bummed out. I felt bad but I was so pissed.

Now my husband always has a reason for everything he does that I don't like. I gotta give him credit, he is the master of ad-libing bullshit excuses. He tried to tell me that he panicked because he had nothing to wipe it on & that I apparently I wipe my bogeys on things all the time. Like the car door. I agreed yes I have in the past but I always make sure I wipe it on the outside of the car door so the wind speed velocity can remove it while the car is in motion. AND if that doesn't work, the rain will get it.

He can teabag me til I have bruises on my face & fart on my leg in bed as much as he likes but I draw the line at wiping bogeys on the furniture.

So I went & bought about 5 boxes of tissues. To add to the 3 I already have scattered around the house, & I muthafucking labelled them, just in case he gets confused. Something like this......

Bitch please, you can't beat me at this game.

I also labelled a whole heap of things around the house where he is not allowed to put his snot. But he removed them because he was annoyed. Anyway I put one on the couch (obviously), my pillow, the TV, my guitar, our bathroom towels, my laptop & basically anything that is mine.

I did however label some other things that he can put bogeys on that aren't tissues. Like his xbox, his PC, his ipod, playstation, Anime collection & just to prove how serious I am about all this & drive the message home, my badass sharp as fuck kitchen machete. Go there with your finger bogey Hooker & I will lovingly stick your hand in a blender.

When Blake & I were mates, pre-getting together, he used to drive an old White Mitsubishi. Aptly named 'old whitey'. Truth be told that old whitey got a battering from my bogie's. And I was very open about it. He was that much in love with me that he didn't even care that I constantly wiped my boogers all over his passenger seat & inside of the car door. I didn't have tissues & was fond of a good bore out on occasions. Whats a girl to do? Wipe it on the door. That's exactly what I did.

So when I went back to Uni at the end of every summer he had something to remember me by. I also told him that when I got famous he could sell his Becky car door bogie art on Ebay for a tidy sum. No one can say that I am a shithouse friend. Personal, original & thoughtful. BOOM.

I don't do that anymore. Because our car is exactly that. OUR car. Which means I own half bitches!!

One more thing before I go, next time you are sitting in a public toilet stall, scan the walls. I guarantee you will find someones boog there. I have never got why people wipe it on toilet doors when they have a roll of bog paper at their disposal? I have done some dirty things in toilet, many which I blog about on a regular basis, but I have NEVER planted a greenie on the wall. It makes me gag just thinking about it.

Does your other half/child/someone you live with do something that grosses your shit out?

Happy Friday, Thursday whatevs. It's Friday in my world, I got my new iPhone (which is making me fizz at the bung with love) & I'm catching up with some chicks in the weekend for cocktails. Goodtimes.

Peace!

P.S How do Astronauts poo in space? I've always wanted to know.
P.P.S Baby if you read this, I bloody love you. But please don't wipe snot on the couch again x