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.