I know we repeatedly love each other from a distance in Blogland & various other social networking interweb sites. And while I thoroughly enjoy it, it's just not the same as having you bunch of weirdos right here in the warmth of my Teradactyl wing sized arm flaps.
So, I'm holding out my virtual hand (Teradactyl carni hands KAKAW KAKAW. My hands don't match my gigantinormus upper arm wings) to all you's fullas & sayin hey man, stuck for some shit to do? Come visit your old mate Bex in New Zealand. I will show you a real good time.
Stare off yonder & day dream of how awesome we could be together.........
We could be Pirates together - I live by a marina. Which means there are a shit tonne of spensive marine vessels at my disposal. From a young age, I dreamt of sailing the sevens seas with a rad crew of hoes, hunting for treasure & jewels & just being a bunch of rad dicks. I have one problem though (apart from the fact that I don't actually legally own any of those marina boats & can not drive a boat). I don't have a crew. My crew is a crew of 1.
Rule 1 of being a pirate: You can not have a pirate ship with only one pirate. While I do enjoy wearing many hats in my day to day life, having to be the captain, first mate, galley crew & lookout guy up the big boat pole thingy would prove very time consuming. And I just don't have that much time. Plus I just get really tired between 2-4pm every day & often require a Sims power nap. I couldn't nap without a crew.
I believe if I could prove to Johnny Depp that I am indeed an accomplished Pirate, he may consider joining us on our mad treasure hunt journey which means I could have sex with him in my mind every day.
We could act out the knife fight scene from WestSide Story -While I am not a fan of musicals, I fell in love with Westside Story before I got old & started to hate everything. So by default, as hard as I try, I cannot hate Tony & Maria's epic love story.
Beside my work is an alleyway aptly named Hobo Alley. Jackloads of weird ass shit happens up in there out of my office hours. Sadly I'm never there to witness any of it because I don't live at my office. (You should know that I am about to go off on a tangent now. Tony & Maria will be back soon).
Just this morning I found blood. I pretended not to notice because then my head would make up stories about slasheresque murderers & I would spend all day locked inside my office too scared to come out just in case the murderer came back to cut my face off & use it as his new face so he could get away with his heinous crime. Just like Travolta & Cage. Lets not go there.
This alley ain't like no other normal alley let me tell you. There used to be a friendly hobo alley cat that, to my absolute horror, enjoyed fur jizzing all over my leg every morning, but he went missing. *que creepy x-files theme music.
My work alley is the Bermuda Triangle of alleyways. For example, a couple of weeks ago, I had just lit a cigarette when the courier walked into my office to pick up a bunch of whothefuckcares. Anyway I stubbed my just lit cigarette out & laid it on the top of my cup of tea & ran inside to grab the stuff for the courier guy. I was gone for a whole 30 seconds. And when I returned for my fag & lady tea, some bastard OR POSSIBLY POLTERGEIST (*cue x-file theme music again) had stolen my cigarette & my goddam cup of tea? WHAT THE??!!!!
Because I don't care much for material possession (I'm lying), I never bothered to search for my cigarette & cup of tea. Plus I'm just really lazy & I have plenty more good cigarettes & tea cups inside my office.
Back to the Westside story knife fight...........if you came to hang with me, we would do a midnight stake out at hobo alley. Drunk people come to get a taxi from the push button phone outside my office when the clubs close at 3am. I was thinking we could set up a portable ghetto blaster & play some danger music. Something dramatic preferably, like Firestarter by Prodigy . And then we could pretend to knife fight each other with our flick knives & freak the shit out of the drunk people. And possibly find the cigarette/cup of tea stealing poltergeist bastard. And lay their shit out. For reals.
I promise not to stab you. Just pretend. I am currently in training for a raw egg throwing/catching competition with our local radio advertising company. I have become quite good at hurling & catching the egg from a great distance. Yes I have been practicing. So if I can do that without smashing it, I can definitely not stab you while we pretend to stab each other.
Shooting Seagulls - I fecking hate seagulls. I would rather dowse myself in petrol & light a match than have to listen to their constant hungry squawking. Because I live beside the ocean, I am privy to manic screaming gulls every day of my life. In summer, their squabbling gets so bad, I am awoken by Seagull fight club right outside my bedroom window where the neighboring restaurants rubbish bins are located. Or seagull porn during mating breeding season. This normally begins at 5am.
It's no secret that I want to shoot them all. But it's not a task I can complete on my own. In order to do this I need at least 3 marksmen who can sit on the roof of the motel with me & help me rip these birds a new one. We could use BB guns, or slingshots. Or machine guns. I'm not fussed. And if the Armed Offenders Squad or I love Nature Brigade turn I can bribe Blake to be our alibi. He will tell them we were all inside sleeping & dreaming about Unicorns & rainbow fairies.
You should also know that our NZ Seagulls are deadly & show no mercy. Thank you Kevin for this photo.
I was thinking of hiring the naked samurai fatties to do the job for me, but I don't like fat naked people. Plus his sword doesn't look sharp enough for what I need.
Wild Striding - Is a sport I made up. It takes a lot of inner strength & elegance to wild stride. Neither of which I have. Basically you have two choices of head wear. You can either be a Horse or a Unicorn. And then you gallop, full tit, past any window where there sits an unsuspecting human. Kinda like a flash mob except pretending to be horses. Most may find this quite immature. I do not. I think it's genius.
If there is one thing I really enjoy doing more than eating chips, it's weirding people out with my weirdness. My issue is that I don't have the confidence to be weird on my own. Plus one lone wild strider just looks shithouse compared to a whole gang of wild striders.
I have a long list of places we could go wild striding. Mainly past any restaurant window. Everyone is just way too uptight & serious about all their life problems. They need to witness the joy of seeing grown women/men gallop around town in equine head wear.
P.S Regardless of the fact that both are equally as terrifying, I claim head Unicorn.
The Magic Horse
New Zealand is a really beautiful country. And you should come here at least once during the course of your lifetime. Just because. - We are a bullshit free, safe & friendly nation & every day I wake up, I feel so grateful that I get to live here. We don't claim to have sex with miniature stallions & post videos about it on Youtube like David Bowie & his crazy wife here. (WARNING: There is no actual horse sex in this video but equally disturbing hearing them discuss it. YAK!! Please watch it sans children).
We are a laid back bunch of happy folk who love our rugby team more than fish n chips Fridays.
We have power, telephones & even modern motorcars.
We don't have little goblin folk called Hobbits living in our forests. Nor do we have Orcs. (Thank fuck).
We don't have man eating bush animals lurking in the darkness waiting to rip our faces off, just possums. We also don't have deadly snakes, scorpions, seagulls or spiders. (Thank fuck again).
We have a sense of freedom here that I have yet to experience in any other country I've travelled to.
So if you are considering a vacay, come here. It will cost you a billion dollars but we will take care of you & show you how good life is at the ass end of the universe.
And together we will wild stride into the sunset.
Peace, & love
P.S I am about to go & compete in the egg throwing thing. I am shitting in my pantaloons with nervousness. I have performance anxiety. Especially when it involves lobbing hard shelled chicken periods like an epileptic mountain bear in full attack mode (That's what Blake says I look like). Fuck my life.
P.P.S If there is anyone from the Popo or FBI reading this, I will not shoot any birds, steal a boat or pretend to stab my friends with a flick knife. However, one day I WILL wilde stride. You can bet you fat naked samurai weilding ass I will.