Someone I love is dying. I'm too sad to write anything at the moment.
I will be back soon.
Bx
Monday, April 15, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Whats Grindin: The Weekly Wrap Up
I know it's only Thursday, but I thought I'd get in early before my brain fully shits itself (you will be surprised how frequent this happens), & I forget that I promised to post once week.
I've got a dilemma.
Well it's not really my problem per say, but it's pissed me off so hard that I just can't seem to let it slide. I want some advice. Your advice is basically choosing from a multi choice list of scenarios below on how I deal with the bullshit I am about to tell you.
There is a lady, a lady that from this moment onwards will be named 'Dog shit lady'. Every day Dog Shit Lady walks her ugly ass dog down the marina where we live. Her dog is a giant horse poodle.
Anyway, she parks her car, & goes for a leisurely walk with her horsedog companion. Then every time she returns (no lie, every dam time), she saunters all whore-like over to the wheelie bins by our bedroom window, & dumps her horror bag of dog shit in the trash.
Most of you are probably wondering what in the actual fuck is the problem here Bex? It would seem that Dog Shit Lady is dumping her dogs dumps in a very proper way & not leaving it for some clumsy bastard to unknowingly step in then trample through their home. Or leaving the dog shit to sun bake for eternity until it turns chalky white & crumbles into the earths core. Respect lady. NOT!
Im a good neighbour. In fact, I'm a straight up gangsta hoe of a neighbour. If theres a problem in my hood or I find someone abusing someone else's facilities, I am on it. Like a vigilanty neighbourhood server of thee moral justice.
My one issue with this woman is that she is putting her dog's shit in a rubbish bin that is owned & paid for by someone else. It would be like me walking into the restaurant next door to our motel, taking a massive mud in their toilet then leaving without so much as a tipping of the hat & a 'good day to you sir'.
I am obsessed with this. It's unhealthy how obsessed I am with this. I hide behind the safety of our net curtains watching her dispose of the dog poop while yelling expletives through the small opening in the window where the fresh air comes.
Fuck her. Seriously. (Just in case you were feeling a bit sorry for this lady because of my obvious distaste towards her, I need to take her down another peg on the shame scale by revealing that she also smokes in her car while her horsedog is sitting all ugly in the back seat. This is basically the same as smoking with a small child in her car. This is another life crime I have been known to verbally abuse people for).
I've come up with a list of things I could do. I feel the time has come where I need to put an end to this.
Before I go, I just wanted to let you know that I just watched her dump a fresh one right this minute. I will take a secret squirrel evidential photo tomorrow & post it. But for now, I will just sit here & try not to breath in the smell of fresh dog crap that is seeping through the window & into my bedroom. Fuck my life.
Peace, love & gagging so hard right now.......
P.S What's Grindin' will be a weekly post (yep I'm gona bust my tits trying to keep up with this one) about whats been grinding my chops hard each week.
P.P.S There is a lot of 'fucks' & 'shits' in this post. And I'm not sorry. I really hate dog shit.
P.P.P.S I do not own or pay for these trash bins. They belong to the restaurant next door. But it's the principal. She needs to take her dog shit home & dump it in her own bin. Nuff said.
I've got a dilemma.
Well it's not really my problem per say, but it's pissed me off so hard that I just can't seem to let it slide. I want some advice. Your advice is basically choosing from a multi choice list of scenarios below on how I deal with the bullshit I am about to tell you.
There is a lady, a lady that from this moment onwards will be named 'Dog shit lady'. Every day Dog Shit Lady walks her ugly ass dog down the marina where we live. Her dog is a giant horse poodle.
 |
| If candy floss & miniature horses mated, this right here would be the by-product. Ick, get away. |
Anyway, she parks her car, & goes for a leisurely walk with her horsedog companion. Then every time she returns (no lie, every dam time), she saunters all whore-like over to the wheelie bins by our bedroom window, & dumps her horror bag of dog shit in the trash.
Most of you are probably wondering what in the actual fuck is the problem here Bex? It would seem that Dog Shit Lady is dumping her dogs dumps in a very proper way & not leaving it for some clumsy bastard to unknowingly step in then trample through their home. Or leaving the dog shit to sun bake for eternity until it turns chalky white & crumbles into the earths core. Respect lady. NOT!
Im a good neighbour. In fact, I'm a straight up gangsta hoe of a neighbour. If theres a problem in my hood or I find someone abusing someone else's facilities, I am on it. Like a vigilanty neighbourhood server of thee moral justice.
My one issue with this woman is that she is putting her dog's shit in a rubbish bin that is owned & paid for by someone else. It would be like me walking into the restaurant next door to our motel, taking a massive mud in their toilet then leaving without so much as a tipping of the hat & a 'good day to you sir'.
I am obsessed with this. It's unhealthy how obsessed I am with this. I hide behind the safety of our net curtains watching her dispose of the dog poop while yelling expletives through the small opening in the window where the fresh air comes.
Fuck her. Seriously. (Just in case you were feeling a bit sorry for this lady because of my obvious distaste towards her, I need to take her down another peg on the shame scale by revealing that she also smokes in her car while her horsedog is sitting all ugly in the back seat. This is basically the same as smoking with a small child in her car. This is another life crime I have been known to verbally abuse people for).
I've come up with a list of things I could do. I feel the time has come where I need to put an end to this.
- Covering over the 'no broken glass or hot ashes' sign on the bin with a crafty handmade sign saying 'no filthy dog shits'.
- Go bin diving after she has deposited her shit bag each day, collect them for a month, then mysteriously leave them in a black rubbish bag on the hood of her car with a note saying 'fuck you'.
- Hide in the bin & when she opens the lid, sling shot her in the face with her own dogs feces. I would be wearing my infamous wild striding horse mask so she wouldn't know who I was. I would also be armed with a well timed judo chop to her esophegus just in case she tried to smack me.
 |
| The wild striding horse mask. For the ultimate disguise. |
- Find out where she lives, break in & leave a steaming bag of poo in her rubbish bin with a note that says 'fuck you'.
- Hide the rubbish bin.
- Make Blake do all of the above. Because I'm not really fond of diddling with anything poo related. He also has gag issues with shit, but he's younger & more nimble than I am. Therefore by default he wins at having to do it.
- Do nothing.
Before I go, I just wanted to let you know that I just watched her dump a fresh one right this minute. I will take a secret squirrel evidential photo tomorrow & post it. But for now, I will just sit here & try not to breath in the smell of fresh dog crap that is seeping through the window & into my bedroom. Fuck my life.
Peace, love & gagging so hard right now.......
P.S What's Grindin' will be a weekly post (yep I'm gona bust my tits trying to keep up with this one) about whats been grinding my chops hard each week.
P.P.S There is a lot of 'fucks' & 'shits' in this post. And I'm not sorry. I really hate dog shit.
P.P.P.S I do not own or pay for these trash bins. They belong to the restaurant next door. But it's the principal. She needs to take her dog shit home & dump it in her own bin. Nuff said.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
What you missed while I wasn't here.
Hi. How are you? It's been a while I know but hear me out.
In November last year, my whole house was swallowed into a giant sink hole. I was in the house at the time & I have spent the last 4 months trapped underground, surviving on nothing but 3 packets of girl guide biscuits & my husbands expensive & very thick Merck medical journal. Yes I ate the book. It was delicious.
Luckily I was rescued yesterday. Thank god because I had run out of cookies & book! I have lost about 40kgs due to my Girl Guide biscuit/paper diet & I have also partially torn the radial ligament in my left wrist due to spending 4 months trying to judo chop my way out of the bosom of the earth (aka hell).
Actually the above is a lie. I donkey kicked my way out. And now my legs are nothing but one mangled stump, kinda like a dolphin tail.
Seriously guys, I've been lady balls deep in ALL of the stuff. And I have not forgotten you.
I pretty much fire on all cylinders all of the time. I attack everything with vigour & enthusiasm times about eleventy billion. Last year in July, I was inspired to start my own little jewellery business. At first I was just kinda getting a feel for the market & as it turns out, my jewellery is so muthaeffing awesome that everyone wants it. This means that when I'm not working, I'm making pirate treasure for the masses.
If you have not checked out my jewellery Facey page, we can't be friends anymore. Just sayin. Go there now & like my shit please & thank you. www.facebook.com/justagirljewels.
Now I also work full time. My job is hard & demanding. Yep, cry me a river you say.
My husband & I also look after a motel. He does pretty much everything but that's besides the point. I am there, therefore I will stake claim to having aome involvement.
Music exploded back into my life over christmas/new year. It was fun to play a few gigs but I've reigned that shit back in again for a while because quite frankly, I can not be fucked singing to drunk people in bars every weekend of my life. Rock n Roll isn't as glamorous as everyone has been led to believe.
So now that I have my half assed apology & list of below par excuses out of the way, I would like to summarise what y'all missed while I wasn't here.
I am still riding my red road rage machine aka 'The Red Bike'. As the early hours of the morn get darker (fuck you autumn you big fat bastard), I have been forced against my will to purchase a fluro yellow high viz vest & bike lights. Now I get the bike lights, a bitch has gotta see where she's going, but the yellow horror vest is not on man.
Blake explained to me that I need to wear the vest or he will be have to scrape my body off the rode after I have been hit by a log truck. And he faints when he sees blood & he doesn't want to embarass himself in front of the general public. Because I love him, I have agreed to let my backpack wear the yellow vest. I have the incredible hulk on the back of my helmet & a voluptuous back end, the people in the motorcars will see me.
Riding my bike to & from work each day is kinda like being in the Hunger Games. It's brutal & stressful. Luckily I'm so good at riding my bike that to date I have not been hit by any passing vehicles. Y'all know I would just fuck them up with my mighty fists anyway.
In Feb I went to the Wellington series of the International IRB Sevens. Basically two days of drinking yourself to death & sometimes watching rugby. You also HAVE to get dressed up. It's a pretty big deal.
I bought a shark costume. (It cost me $100). But as I began to don my awesome Shark costume for the first day of Seven's madness, I realised with that the Shark costume was a massive bastard fail. It had a floppy head. No matter what I did, I could not get the dam shark head to stay erect. (I will probably never use that sentence again in my life).
Luckily my BFF had a spare costume. So I went as a referee. I felt like a fat zebra but I rocked it with a smile.
Blake & I were Seven's virgins. We went along with my best hooker, her husband & a couple of friends. And for the most part we did enjoy ourselves.
However, after about 2 minutes into finding our seats, I remembered that I hate people. Especially really messy drunk people. Combined with really hot burny sun. Both days I had to be escorted from the premises by Blake before it finshed because I had urges to fist pound some faces.
Apart from my inner rage monster trying to bust outta me (due my high level of anxiety when stuck among sweaty crowds of assholes), we did have an awesome 4 days in my nations capital city. We shopped, ate, drank & had some time away from the demands of life in Nelson. We needed it.
Blake & I had our 3 year wedding anniversary on Feb 28th (Go us!). We went out to our favourite restaurant for dinner. I'm pretty sure Jesus himself invented Little India in Nelson. I highly recommend the Paneer Aloo Tiki. And the Butter Chicken is off the hook yo! I know my Indian food & this place delivers every dam time.
Before I leave you today, I need to let you all know that I do appreciate you coming here to read me. I can't promise you that I will post every day, because I just don't have the time. However I do promise that I won't leave it another 4 months before you hear from me again. Maybe once a week? I can do that.
Also I did bugger my wrist. It's currently bandaged up & I can't use it at all for 3 weeks. This post took me 2 weeks to type. I hope you treasure every tasy morsel.
Please tell me what you've been up to my little whores. Oh how I've missed you so.
Peace & love
In November last year, my whole house was swallowed into a giant sink hole. I was in the house at the time & I have spent the last 4 months trapped underground, surviving on nothing but 3 packets of girl guide biscuits & my husbands expensive & very thick Merck medical journal. Yes I ate the book. It was delicious.
Luckily I was rescued yesterday. Thank god because I had run out of cookies & book! I have lost about 40kgs due to my Girl Guide biscuit/paper diet & I have also partially torn the radial ligament in my left wrist due to spending 4 months trying to judo chop my way out of the bosom of the earth (aka hell).
Actually the above is a lie. I donkey kicked my way out. And now my legs are nothing but one mangled stump, kinda like a dolphin tail.
Seriously guys, I've been lady balls deep in ALL of the stuff. And I have not forgotten you.
I pretty much fire on all cylinders all of the time. I attack everything with vigour & enthusiasm times about eleventy billion. Last year in July, I was inspired to start my own little jewellery business. At first I was just kinda getting a feel for the market & as it turns out, my jewellery is so muthaeffing awesome that everyone wants it. This means that when I'm not working, I'm making pirate treasure for the masses.
If you have not checked out my jewellery Facey page, we can't be friends anymore. Just sayin. Go there now & like my shit please & thank you. www.facebook.com/justagirljewels.
Now I also work full time. My job is hard & demanding. Yep, cry me a river you say.
My husband & I also look after a motel. He does pretty much everything but that's besides the point. I am there, therefore I will stake claim to having aome involvement.
Music exploded back into my life over christmas/new year. It was fun to play a few gigs but I've reigned that shit back in again for a while because quite frankly, I can not be fucked singing to drunk people in bars every weekend of my life. Rock n Roll isn't as glamorous as everyone has been led to believe.
So now that I have my half assed apology & list of below par excuses out of the way, I would like to summarise what y'all missed while I wasn't here.
I am still riding my red road rage machine aka 'The Red Bike'. As the early hours of the morn get darker (fuck you autumn you big fat bastard), I have been forced against my will to purchase a fluro yellow high viz vest & bike lights. Now I get the bike lights, a bitch has gotta see where she's going, but the yellow horror vest is not on man.
Blake explained to me that I need to wear the vest or he will be have to scrape my body off the rode after I have been hit by a log truck. And he faints when he sees blood & he doesn't want to embarass himself in front of the general public. Because I love him, I have agreed to let my backpack wear the yellow vest. I have the incredible hulk on the back of my helmet & a voluptuous back end, the people in the motorcars will see me.
Riding my bike to & from work each day is kinda like being in the Hunger Games. It's brutal & stressful. Luckily I'm so good at riding my bike that to date I have not been hit by any passing vehicles. Y'all know I would just fuck them up with my mighty fists anyway.
In Feb I went to the Wellington series of the International IRB Sevens. Basically two days of drinking yourself to death & sometimes watching rugby. You also HAVE to get dressed up. It's a pretty big deal.
I bought a shark costume. (It cost me $100). But as I began to don my awesome Shark costume for the first day of Seven's madness, I realised with that the Shark costume was a massive bastard fail. It had a floppy head. No matter what I did, I could not get the dam shark head to stay erect. (I will probably never use that sentence again in my life).
 |
| The fail Shark. I am still mad about this. image source |
Luckily my BFF had a spare costume. So I went as a referee. I felt like a fat zebra but I rocked it with a smile.
 |
| That's Blake in the Blue man costume. It's from an x-box game? Every one loved him & he felt famous. To date I still have no idea what the hell he was meant to be. |
Blake & I were Seven's virgins. We went along with my best hooker, her husband & a couple of friends. And for the most part we did enjoy ourselves.
However, after about 2 minutes into finding our seats, I remembered that I hate people. Especially really messy drunk people. Combined with really hot burny sun. Both days I had to be escorted from the premises by Blake before it finshed because I had urges to fist pound some faces.
 |
| All of the people. Ick. |
Apart from my inner rage monster trying to bust outta me (due my high level of anxiety when stuck among sweaty crowds of assholes), we did have an awesome 4 days in my nations capital city. We shopped, ate, drank & had some time away from the demands of life in Nelson. We needed it.
Blake & I had our 3 year wedding anniversary on Feb 28th (Go us!). We went out to our favourite restaurant for dinner. I'm pretty sure Jesus himself invented Little India in Nelson. I highly recommend the Paneer Aloo Tiki. And the Butter Chicken is off the hook yo! I know my Indian food & this place delivers every dam time.
 |
| I gave Blake this fun card for Valentines Day. It basically sums up everything I feel for him. |
Before I leave you today, I need to let you all know that I do appreciate you coming here to read me. I can't promise you that I will post every day, because I just don't have the time. However I do promise that I won't leave it another 4 months before you hear from me again. Maybe once a week? I can do that.
Also I did bugger my wrist. It's currently bandaged up & I can't use it at all for 3 weeks. This post took me 2 weeks to type. I hope you treasure every tasy morsel.
Please tell me what you've been up to my little whores. Oh how I've missed you so.
Peace & love
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