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16 Aug 2013

Bachelors BroCode

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

So I was chatting to a friend today about a bachelors that he’d been to recently, and OBVIOUSLY my first question to him was “What did you guys do to the poor guy, and where did you go?” and I was met with a prompt SHUTDOWN! “Men don’t talk about that.”

This is a rule I quite frankly think is just lame and I don’t understand it at all.

What is the big secret?

Girls are so honest :

  • We drank too many shots because guys kept buying us Blowjobs and wiggling their eyebrows at us.
  • Someone held my hair back and afterwards picked the carrots off my pumps (This is not MY bachelorettes by the way, a) I wasn’t wearing pumps… I was wearing penis slippers and b) I spewed carrots wayyyyyyyyy before we even went out – I like to say it was a tactical chunder due to the eleventy-hundred penis shaped vodka jellies I gulped down (Don’t judge me – I needed dutch courage… there is something about having your future mother-in-law in the room while you pick out vibrators that made me need a few stiff shots okay!!)
  • I sniggered at all the other girls when “All the single ladies” came on and tried to smugly stick my engagement ring under their noses but ended up tripping on my way and just ended up boxing a girl in the tit. (It’s funny what people are prepared to forgive when you’re wearing a nuns outfit and have a balloon tied to your belt – for homing in and retrieval purposes I was told)
  • And then ofcourse there are the standard game cards that get given out: Sit on a man’s lap, look deeply into his eyes and tell him how beautiful you think his soul is.  Luckily for me my brother just happened to be in the same place so he got that one… *cough* we swore an oath to never talk of it again… sorry bro.
  • I jumped into a guys arms and made him carry me around for 20 minutes while I shouted “Thiiiiiis wayyyyyyyyyy…. Now Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat wayyyyyyyyyyy” (I may have been using his ear as a rudder)

Andddd so forth and so forth…

Now with men… you just get stonewalled, or the “What happens at the Bachelors STAYS at the bachelors.”

I only have one way of fully understanding this response:

The groom did something really REALLY bad:

  • You went to a stripclub and instead of awkwardly trying to look everywhere BUT at the vagina that is currently gyrating in your face to “Poisonnnnn” you actually screwed the stripper in question and now have genital warts the size of cabbages?
  • You bonked a hooker – She is now buried in your best friends garden under his wife’s favourite petunia’s.
  • You all take your clothes off, dance around a fire before partaking in a gay orgy of epic proportions while “YMCA” pumped in the background.
  • The groom was forced to simulate sex with a chicken.  The chicken never sent flowers or called afterwards.

Either way it’s got to be really bad, something that would ensure that the wedding actually would not take place should the bride hear of it… otherwise why the secrecy and strict following of BROCODE boys… do tell?

Because if you’re just sitting around a fire drinking Old Brown sherry, finger-knitting penis shaped sock puppets and swopping Lemon meringue recipes I’m going to be pretty fucking disappointed.

I got one bit of information, yes ONLY one from Dalekins Bachelors, and that was only because who WOULDN’T want to show off a video of a bunch of grown men dancing with SHEEP to “One Love”?

(I’m ashamed to say I Googled “Sexy sheep” to get this picture)

3 May 2013

Flashed my Va-jay-jay in Turkey

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

So I am completely hopped up on cough syrup and as I therefore have drug induced deniability I thought now is as good a time as any to tell you about how I flashed my vagina in Turkey.

Well no people, I wasn’t just wandering around the Blue Mosque and all of a sudden *pelvic thrust* WHAMMMMMM “Look at this vagina! Just look at it”! Because I am almost sure I would have gotten into some sort of a pickle. Like don’t they chop off your hands there if you steal…? (notheydon’t) I can’t afford to lose my vagina!  And good luck getting that angle right with your sword suckkaaaa!!  – sorry – again, I did warn you about being goofed on cough syrup.

Anyhoo on Dales and my last day in Istanbul, we decided to do one of the last things on our list for Turkey, and that was to go to a Turkish Hamam for a proper Turkish bath.

Now I had heard stories about these Hamams before, none of them pleasant. Something along the lines of you being led into a room and a big sweaty hairy Turkish guy will come in wearing only a thong and he will scrub your skin off and massage you and at some stage while he’s scrubbing you his sweaty hairy belly will be in your face, and you’ll wonder why you can taste ham and olives…. Well it was nothing like that!

So off we go to the Cagaloglu Hamam which is the most famous 300 year old hamam in Istanbul and is listed in the  book entitled “1000 Things to do before you Die” and I’m thinking as long as this isn’t where good tourists come to die I’m happy with that!

So in we go, you select what “services” you want done off a menu (No Happy Endings listed) and then you get sent off in different directions.  Obviously men and women are separated into different parts of the Hamam because Turkey is Muslim and they’re conservative.  Also, I wouldn’t really want to be in a steam room with some random guy shaking his frank and beans at me!

Now this is where it all gets a bit confusing because where you paid your money at the reception, well that is where the English STOPS!

I went into a big room and a Turkish lady wearing a swimsuit walked up to me, put a key in my hand, grunted and pointed towards what looked like a changing room for me. She then swung her hand up and down me indicating obviously that I should take my clothes off!

Me: *confused face* All off? *swinging hand up and down trying to somehow indicate getting nude*

*grunt grunt* *nod*

Alrighty then.  So I go into the changing room, take of all my clothes, and wrap like this cloth around my body, and then put a pair of wooden sandal clog type things that they leave outside your door, which I assumed were to stop me from slipping on the marble floors (Pffft – I nearly tore myself a new one TWICE just walking towards the bathing area!)

I came out of the changing area and was led through a huge wooden door into the bathing area which is an absolutely beautiful and very old massive marble chamber filled with steam and a massive marble slab which was in the middle of the room.  On which sat 4 other tourists, chatting away.  So I ambled over to the slab all nonchalant  trying not to feel like a fart in a perfume factory and lay down on it thinking, meh, this isn’t hard, fake it till you make it, just relax and do what they’re doing. I assumed this was the steam part.  So I lay down for about 10 minutes soaking up the steam.  And then the “therapists” came in, some of them were just wearing bikini bottoms, boobs swaying back and forth, but mine was in a full costume and shorts.  A Beautiful Turkish lady with bright red hair and blue eyes, not at all what I’d expected, clearly there was going to be no fat belly in my face tasting like ham.

She walked up to me grabbed me by the hand, yanked me off the slab and then indicated to me that I should take off the cloth and lay it on the slab – obviously so that I could lie on it and she would then massage me on it.

Oh.  I see…

It’s at this stage where I realized while taking off my cloth that I noticed that all the other girls were wearing bikini bottoms too.  But me… oh no sir, there I was in all my UNGROOMED glory! Fuck! Just fucking perfect!

She then led me gingerly towards a huge marble sink, “led me” because I was like a dog wearing ice skates at this stage! She dipped a silver bowl into the water and I was fully expecting a gentle watering down now, you know… a bit down each side to get you wet.  Nope she tipped that bowl over my head  over and over again, until I looked like a drowned rat!

Now I am ball ass nekkid, dripping like a drowned rat and walking back towards the marble, crouching,  with my arms and legs out like a retard trying to not slip on my ass.

So I lie down and decide Fuck This, I am not going to let the fact that I am the only one in here completely naked bother me, just imagine you’re at the gynecologist, they see so many vaginas everyday, yours is NOT special.

Which was all fine and well until she started to soap me up. Every time she brushed her hand over my bits my eyes would shoot open like my finger had just slipped through the toilet paper and I’d think, OhGodOhGod it’s happening, I’m having my first lesbian experience!!

So they exfoliate you THOROUGHLY but it’s actually quite pleasant, less with a sea urchin like I was expecting and more with a gentle loofah, and then they soap you up and wash you before they begin to massage you, and this is where it got weird.  I was lying on the slab, she lifted up legs up and sat under them and then let them lie over her lap where she then started to massage my legs, and at a stage had my one leg bent at a complete 90 degree angle to my body in other words, yes folks, the entire Hamam could see what I had eaten for breakfast that morning! Diesathousanddeaths.

Anyhoo.  We move on. We go to therapy. We build bridges.

She made me sit up at a stage to massage my back and when I sat up all this soap went into my eyes and she noticed my discomfort, so off she went to fetch that silver bowl of water again and I assumed she would bring it to me so I could dip my hands into it and splash some water into my eyes to clear them… nope, she threw that water at me from like 5 meters away!

*splutter splutter* ffffffffffffffffttttttttt *splutter*

And then it was time to wash the hair, I haven’t had such a thorough scrubbing in all my life and my hair was so knotted when she was done that I looked like I had a big ass bird nest sitting ontop of my head!

But what an experience, I walked out of there feeling like a baby’s butt! So a definite must, but ladies, if you’re a bit shy, wear bikini bottoms, or atleast do some effing grooming or you WILL feel like you just stepped into an 80’s foreign porn fliek!

Co-incidentally Dalekins got to keep his towel on, and had a guy who looked  just like Mario from the Super Mario brothers do his “service”. He said it was FANTASTIC, but he DID ask me for a stick of gum the minute we walked out of the place!

11 Mar 2013

How to find a Mans G-spot

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

How sneaky was I with the title of this blog post. Well you’re in it now so you’ll just have to keep reading.  I promise, there are tips on finding a mans g-spot in here somewhere… maybe.

So it’s official.  I am old.

Now don’t get me wrong, I still have the face of a 16 year old… whale sperm and the tears of 100 virgins will help with that.  But nothing I tell you, NOTHING hurts like finally coming to the realization that you are NOT 18 anymore.

I have been feeling “my age” since I turned 36 (which is the exact amount of tomatoes that goes into a bottle of All Gold I’ll have you know. I love All Gold.  – but I digress) but yesterday I had the most depressing moment when reality slapped me solid in the face like something… that would slap you… in the face.

There I was grocery shopping with Dalekins when I decided to pick up a magazine so I could spend the rest of the afternoon being lazy and flipping through a book that would make me feel fat, ugly and extremely poor.  (Really Elle… who can actually afford the fucking clothes you advertise in your magazines – Oh I’ll just run out and buy that jumpsuit made from panda eyelashes for R36,000, it’s gowgeous.)

Anyhoo after browsing through my magazine options… I picked up and decided to buy… wait for it.  This is hard for me to admit. SWEETBABYJESUSIpickedup theWoman&HomeMagazine!!!

I know. Stop judging me.  I was so sad about it, I tried to hide it in the trolley under my spanks.

*slump*

To be fair amongst the articles of “How to knit a tea cosy” and “Get rid of Kankles” was an inspiring article on how to still drink wine while losing weight – with actual tips!! Where I always thought you just drank your wine and took the change out of your wallet…. Tadaaaaa lighter already. (That’s a lie, my wallet is never heavy, I never have change because I give money to every car guard on the planet because I’m scared they’ll stab me if I don’t, even though giving them my change makes me angry and bitter and sometimes I throw it out the window in the hopes it will hit them right in their stupid heads).

But I just can’t read the likes of Cosmo or Glamour etc. anymore! With pearler articles like this can you blame me!!

  • What is your man thinking – Really? Who. Gives. A. Fuck. If you have asked him and he says “nothing” leave it at that you psycho! Otherwise let me break it down for you, it’s really not that hard.  If this were Dalekins it would be the following:
    • Beer
    • Boobs
    • Kate Beckinsale
    • Kate Beckinsales boobs
    • Kate Beckinsale could totally use my thighs for earmuffs
    • Why is Tash still talking
    • Hmmmm donuts
    • I wish I could fly a unicorn
    • Boobs
  • The most satisfying position – Thankfully this isn’t the one where they explain to you how to find your mans G-Spot using nothing but your pinky, a headlamp and some braai tongs.  Trust me ladies, when I laid all of our different braai tongs out on the kitchen counter for Dalekins to “pick his poison” it apparently is not the size of the braai tongs that scares a man – it was the fact that I was running the batteries down on his headlamp that fucked him off… I know right. So inconsiderate.

This article will tell you that you need to follow the simple steps of the karma sutra, using a rubber chicken, a ladder and extending your right leg behind you left ear!  Seriously, my joints doth protest, I can’t even cross my legs anymore for fuck sakes!!

Mine is simple:  How about we do a 68? You go down on me and I’ll get you later.

  • Are you too Open? – How do you fill up an entire article of this shit? Are you telling him the consistency of your number 2’s? Yes / No? If No, you’re fine…. If yes… how in Gods name do you keep track of how much corn there is, I’ve always tried and found it quite challenging, I have even taken to keeping an abacus with me next to the loo but Dalekins took offense. I may be too open.
  • Cheat Proof Your Relationship! – Um… don’t ever have Kate Beckinsale come over to your house.

There’s just no two ways about it, I’m going to have to get used to buying “older lady” magazines, but fear not,  I will only use my new found skills like “knitting” for evil…

Everyone gets a knitted Barbie doll toilet paper holder for Christmas!!

28 Dec 2012

Zzzz…

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

I cannot explain to you the rage I have when you’re dead tired and trying to sleep and people are blasting their music at 1am when you have to go to work the next morning.

I use the word “music” lightly.  It was more like some drum and bass SHIT! As if an epileptic had fallen into a pool full of strobe lights and instruments… or some sort of early New year celebrations in a village in rural Congo… the type of music they play to keep frisky gorillas at bay…

Either way it was making me ears bleed and fucking me off!

*looks at watch*

*flips over*

*jams pillow over face*

*cant breath*

*removes aforementioned pillow and imagines all the wicked smotherings I could do with it… or yes, yes, boiling oil…. That’s what that DJ deserves… boiling. Fucking. Oil. All. Over. His. Dick.*

*flips over*

*looks at Dalekins*

Me: “Are they fucking kidding me!!!!! Please fix it Dalekins, call the cops… or the SWAT team…. or the Broedersbond… or the Freedom Front…. Cant… take … it… need… sleeeeeep!”

Dalekins: “Don’t worry Tash… I’ve got this!”

*switches on his iPad*

*squints*

*eyes get raped by shards of light*

Me: *covers eyes* Sweet baby Jesus man what the fuck are you doing!?”

Dalekins: “I’m going to sort us I told you!”

Me: “By doing what!! Making the room brighter than the fucking sun?? It’s 2am… now I have shit fucking music and it’s bright as fuck in here!”

*Dalekins glares at me, gets out of bed and stomps off to the bathroom with his iPad*

Me: “Oh great, I’m in a crisis here, and your idea of fixing this is to go do a number two while reading War and Peace on the loo!”

*flips over and over as if I’m being exorcised*

*Dalekins comes stomping back into the room slams his iPad down and gets back into bed*

Swish… Swishh… swishhhhh

*sits up*

Me: “what is THAT noise now?”

Dalekins: “It’s the ocean!”

Me: “sorry?”

Dalekins: “It’s the oceannnnnnnn… it’s white noise I downloaded it to try drown out the Zulu warriors having their circumcision party next door!”

Me: *blink blink* Dale… that does not sound like the effing ocean… it sounds like a running toilet!!! And when did you become such a racist!! Downloading WHITE noise to drown out Zulu warriors! Wow Dale, just… wow.”

Dalekins: “What. The. Fuck… I am NOT a racist, have you lost your mind!? It’s just CALLED white noise because… ”

Me: “ Just, just… urrrrgh, let’s try get some sleep!”

Dalekins: “Fine!!”

10 minutes later…

Me: “Dalekins *whisper* Your ocean is making me want to pee.”

…Upon hindsight I should be grateful he didn’t download “Whales mating in the Antarctic”.

5 Dec 2012

Moms be driving crazy and shit!

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

I had to drop Dalekins off at work this morning, and was driving in a road where 2 lanes become one.  Obviously the left lane has to merge into the right lane, slowly and safely.

But alas, I spot someone behind me in the left lane flying up the road like a bat out of hell and I can tell they’re going to be a douchebag and try and squeeze infront of me as the lane merges.  So I say to Dalekins “Look at this effing IDIOT!!”

And TruesBob! They come flying past me, forcing me to swerve into the oncoming lane a little bit to avoid a collision, and off they go with no “I’m sorry”  blinky hazard lights or a hand up to say, “Sorry I was driving like a bit of a knob” No no… nothing.

Me: “What an IDIOT!!”

Dalekins: “Um, Tash… that was your mom”

*looks at car*

*looks at Dalekins*

*cough*

“Oh… um.  Good job mom, carry on.”

And THAT’S how your mom tries to kill you so she gets out of buying your Christmas presents!

27 Nov 2012

I gotz me some sick skillzz yo!

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

Ok so I had to share this cause I think it’s funny as BALLS!

So you can take any website and “Gizoogle” it, which then takes that website and in my case my good grammar and proper engerrrrlish *snort* and makes it GHETTO my niggas! Wait… can I say nigga? *gangsta hand flick* don’t be hatin! (Thanks Irene for this site, you’ve not only amused me immensely (I am absolutely sending my next work communication through this site before emailing it) but also somehow made me question whether I’m a rampant racist – which I am not by the way… do not be bustin no caps in ma ass…)

So anyhoo… I gizoogled my 50 Shades of Grey post and it even Gizoogled your comments if you left them… You be talking tight yo! (seriously go read how foul mouthed you’ve become) Ok… I’ll stop now… only because someone as pasty white as myself should never be acting like I’m from the hood. And also because I just can’t pull it off… my arse is too big to pull my jeans halfway down and still look cool… and then the crotch of my pants hangs at my knee caps and threaten to fling me to the floor every time I take a step and I end up looking like one of those people who have only realized after they’ve done their business that there is no more toilet paper and you then have to do the shuffle to the cupboard.   You homies got some skilllllzzzz… ok really I’ll stop now … it’stoomuchfunthough. *toe in sand*

Have a read!

50 Shadez of Gay

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

How tha fuck oh How tha fuck can I not have written bout 50 Shadez of Gay yet, biatch? Da Horror!

Now unless yo ass live under a rock yo ass would have heard bout dis book series by now, nahmeean, biatch? Or tha jokes dat follow it… “I gotz banned from Exclusive Books tha other dizzle fo’ movin tha “Wet Floor” sign away from tha 50 Shadez of Gay section…”

Described as “Mommy Porn” fo’ some bizarre reason of which I don’t understand cuz frankly I don’t think ejectin a lil pimp from yo’ vajazzle should elicit it’s own genre of books n’ if it do, well then by Dogg I want a genre fo’ untainted vajazzle’s!

Our vajazzle’s have tha muthafuckin right ta read too!

Anyhoo, if yo ass be a biatch n’ have not read dis book yet, then I’m afraid we’re goin ta have ta vote yo ass off tha island.

This book series is like Mills n’ Boons but instead of throbbin thugz n’ flowerin petals yo ass have whips, chains n’ butt plugs. BUTT PLUGS gangstas, it’s like tha Encyclopedia Britannica, if tha Encyclopedia Britannica was bout Nipple clamps n’ all thangs Bondage-y!

Why is all dem hoes up in tha ghetto becomin straight-up obsessed wit dis book, biatch? Well cuz it’s tha absolute impossible scenario.  Shizzle like dis don’t happen up in tha real ghetto. Right back up up in yo muthafuckin ass.

A playa whoz ass takes charge, muthafucka! Chicks dig dat shit. Unless you’re spittin some lyrics ta our asses ta do dishes and make yo ass a sandwich cuz well then fuckyouverymuch.

A Gorgeous, 27 year oldschool Bizzleionaire wit mommy issues n’ a cravin fo’ a bit of slap n’ tickle, falls fo’ a ho whoz ass hit dat shizzle up in a hardware store n’ do straight-up everythang up in his thugged-out lil’ juice ta git her includin buyin her a Audi R8, a wardrobe of designa clothes, flies her around up in a helicopter, laptops, phones, oh yes n’ gives her tha dopest orgazzles she’s ever had. Ever. Everrrrrrrrrrrr.

Soundz awful.

And all he wantz up in return…, biatch? To spank her muthafuckin ass.

Boo fuckin hoo Anastasia Steele.

Only up in a book would dis cause any biatch ta have a existential crisis.  Who be I, biatch? Do I mind bein spanked, biatch? Should I strutt away from all of dis cuz he occasionizzlely wantz ta stick some shiznit up mah bottom?

Is yo ass RETARDED!

Problems I have wit dis book n’ why it’s different ta mah life:

  • She’s a virgin.  It’s like spottin a unicorn wit a rainbow comin up of it’s butt.
  • Biatch don’t like ta eat. No comment… here… hold mah chips.
  • Biatch says “Oh My…” a lot, muthafucka! Shut. Da yo. Hell. Up. Yes he’s tryin ta stick metal bowlin balls dat vibrate up yo’ hoo-hooo but straight-up, biatch? Sacrifices!, muthafucka! It’s just like goin ta tha gynae gangstas, only difference is dat he’s gorgeous, yo ass know him, it feels phat n’ he don’t tap yo ass on tha tummy n’ say “Let’s peep what’s up in mah Christmas box!” (Incidentally, I no longer go ta dat gynae!)
  • Biatch allows a playa ta spank her straight-up hard, n’ then burstz tha fuck into tears. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shamepies. If Dizzykins had ta attempt spankin mah crazy ass on tha arse without mah express permission I’d junk punch his ass so hard our pimped out grandlil pimps would still gotz a slight indentation on they foreheads!
  • Dude tizzles her up wit his dopest grey tie.  If Dizzykins had ta try tyin mah crazy ass up wit one of his dopest ties, I’d have ta bust a cap up in tha proceedings immediately cuz bein tied up wit some shiznit dat he gotz when he was 16 n’ still has batman on it just don’t do it fo’ me. That… n’ I’d be all bout tha …”Yo Ass mo’ betta make these knotz loose, n’ fo’ tha ludd of Dogg you’re not tyin tha Winchesta properly!, muthafucka! It’s round, round n’ all up in tha hoop Dizzy!, muthafucka! Dizzy… DALE… where is yo ass going… I’m still tied ta tha bed *hisssssssssssss*”

Otherwise dis series is straight-up decadent, indulgent n’ a must read n’ will make yo ass feel like yo ass have kicked a bag of puppies when yo ass finish dat shit.

Unless dat wouldn’t make yo ass sad.

In which case… yo ass sicko.

They’re bustin tha porno now, nahmeean?  My fuckin vote goes fo’ dis Christian Gay!

Tags: , , ,

4 Responses ta “50 Shadez of Gay”

  1. Wendy Says:
    July 31st, 2012 at 3:20 pm OMW yes , muthafucka! I SOOOOO agreee – RG fo’ Christian Gay !
  2. m13l13 Says:
    July 31st, 2012 at 3:26 pm 3 thangs dat done cooked up mah crazy ass laugh todizzle:
    - a hoo-hooo
    - a tummy tappin Gynae
    - a junk punch

    If i ever git Parkinstons, i’ll become a gynae, muthafucka! I’ll make mazillions!

  3. Tweedledee Says:
    July 31st, 2012 at 4:10 pm I agree wit yo’ choice of hunk fo’ Fifty Shades :) buckwild as always :) when is YOU gonna write a sexy book fo’ our asses Tash?
  4. Annie Says:
    July 31st, 2012 at 6:07 pm Oh my. Yo Crazy-Ass dopest work ta date!!

26 Oct 2012

Christmas List

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

So it’s almost Christmas AND my birthday (11 December – Just saying) and if you know me at all, you’ll be well aware that I LOVE presents.  Like… love them. Hard. Like Gollum. So in the spirit of generosity, I thought I would put together my Christmas list so long… you know in case any of you would like to start saving so you can heap loot on me.

Now bear with me here, I am feeling particularly greedy this year:

Seriously who wouldn’t want one of these? I could use it in my swimming pool… although the idea of being shot 30 feet high at 30 miles per hour (however high and fast that is – fucking METRIC system people, ever heard of it!!) terrifies me a little because I fear I may impale myself on one of the palm trees that sway gently in the breeze around my pool and break my vagina.

This is AWESOME! A flying shark! My neighbours wouldn’t know WHAT hit them.  There they are lazing by their pool when BOOM! A shark gently flies over the wall… knock knock motherfuckers! Oh how I will laugh and laugh.

I know right… every shot will swiftly be followed by “Cheeezas my fucking eyeeeeeeeeeeee” or your colleagues looking up all irritated while rubbing the backs of their heads and glaring around the room suspiciously. You could even attach little threatening messages to the ballistas (whatever the fuck a ballista is) like “That’s the last time you use MY coffee cup bitch!” (No really, everyone at work who is reading this stop using my fucking coffee cup or you’re going to get it!)

Seriously, I don’t even feel the need to explain this one. It’s a life size tyrannosaurusrex for fuck sakes.

This one is more for Dalekins to be honest… it’s one of these or hand sanitizer!

This one I feel is more of a “must have”  rather than a “It’s so fluffffffyyyyy I neeeeed it”.  I always have to pee atleast once a night, and because my husband is trying to kill me and strategically places his flip flops right in the middle of the passage in the hopes that I will trip and impale myself on the toilet brush in the dark, I feel that with a bit of illumination emanating from the bog roll, it will scupper his plans and I will live for another day.

I know right… *taps head* and to think one day this brain will have to die.

Passive aggresive I most certainly am not.  But in the Christmas spirit, I feel like I need to start toning down my severe aggression when I get angry, and these would be perfect! So instead of yelling at someone that I want to push them down the stairs like a slinky and then go to their house and stick my finger in their peanutbutter, I may present them with a nifty business card that says it all “Hey dipshit, your hair smells funny” or something of the like.  Which you could deliver with a deadpan face, hand them the card and then do that whole “Im watching you” with the 2 finger eye poke thing while walking backwards away from them.

*le Sigh*

So much more I want… the Tron motorcycle, Glow in the dark crowbar, Pet Hoodies, a Walk-On-Water ball… but I feel like I may be pushing my luck with you all now.  So do let me know who’s buying me what because there’s nothing worse than getting double gifts… unless it’s the T-Rex.  That. Would. Be. EPIC!!

http://thisiswhyimbroke.com/

14 Sep 2012

Ryan Gosling does not have the Clap!

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

The conversation between Dale and I this morning after talking about why any single guy would not date a hot girl even though she is literally beating his door down with her gauva:

Me: It reminds me of that saying… No matter how hot your partner is, somewhere, someone is tired of putting up with their shit!

Like, take Kate Beckinsale for example… I bet you she has a smelly vagina.

(Let me set the scene here, Kate Beckinsale is Dales FAVOURITE actress, he told me once that he would love to use her “thighs as earmuffs”. Now…  it might have something to do with her many many Oscars… Or the ridiculously tight black leather pants she always runs around in – tight black leather pants  = sweaty vagina just saying.)

Anyhoo back to the conversation…

Dalekins: Yes I agree, like Ryan Gosling probably has syphallis

Me: Don’t be daft, Ryan Gosling most certainly does NOT have syphilis. His penis is made out of unicorn horn and shoots rainbows, nothing is getting through that sucker.

Dalekins:  With the amount of women he has, of course he does! Unless he likes men, which is possible considering his good dress sense and the fact that he is so ripped that every time anyone in the world eats a carb he bursts into tears.

Me: Is THAT why you always wear white socks with black shoes Dale! You’re trying to be the anti-Gosling because he’s gay, has syphalis AND knows how to match his loafers to his hanky?

Dalekins: Indeed and I already have a hot wife, I don’t have to bag any more women

Me: Yes, yes you’re absolutely right… you win this argument hands down!

(The only time those words will ever be muttered by moi)

16 Aug 2012

RIP Little Scarlet

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

We lost a family member yesterday.  Our beautiful little Scarlet.

I say “lost” but that wouldn’t be the right word, because that would imply that we had a hand in losing you, and that there would be a chance that you could be found. But there is no chance of that happening, so I’ll rather say that you were taken from us yesterday.

You were handed to us yesterday in a plastic packet by a neighbor who said he found you lying on the grass, I’m sorry for that because you aren’t a piece of rubbish and you being put in a bag hurt me more than anything.  But I guess what else could he do.

We don’t know whether it was poison or if a car took you, but I hope with all my heart that you didn’t suffer, that you went quickly and with no pain and that you were not scared.

I am not writing this for sympathy, or for anyone else’s benefit besides Dales and mine, in the hopes, and stupidly so, I know, that putting this down on paper and putting it out in the universe, somehow, you’ll hear it, see it, know that when we heard and saw you yesterday that it completely shattered us.

I know a lot of people cannot relate, and when hearing you have lost your pet, they look at your pain and reaction and wonder what’s the fuss about.  As if you’ve just misplaced a set of car keys.

But you were much more, you were a member of our family, and you deserve every last tear that we are shedding for you, and there have been a lot, and there still will be.  Know that. We feel your loss as if you had been a human family member that we had just lost, there is no distinction in our eyes.

We are completely and utterly devastated, and miss you and all your nonsense so much already.

Sleeping stretched out and horizontal between Dale and I at night, so much so that we haven’t been able to actually spoon each other in the year and a half since you’ve been in our family.  And you loved that! Dale spooned you instead of me every night.  He would even end up sleeping on the very edge of the bed, with no covers because “I didn’t want to move her, shame she also needs her sleep” – used to infuriate me.

But last night when Dale sat straight up in bed, with his hand on the covers between us and when I asked him what’s wrong, he said “nothing” and lay back down again, but I know he was feeling around for you, and it was the lack of you there and the pain that brought that woke him. And just for that I would never have complained about you hogging the bed ever again if we could just have you back there.

You yelling at me for breakfast in the mornings.  Because apparently the louder you shout at me the faster I can get your food in your bowl.

Climbing Dale’s leg when he didn’t give you attention, RIGHT AWAY!

Hiding under the bathroom mat, lying in wait, for one of us, unsuspecting, to walk into the bathroom so you could pounce. FYI: We could always see you, but humoured you anyway.

The way you would cry for us outside pretending to want to come inside but when we opened the door you’d always make us beg, or come out and literally FETCH you like a real little madam!

You were our boss, typical cat.

Dale carried your collar in his pocket the whole day yesterday, and hid your favourite ball when he got home because he couldn’t bear to look at it.

I couldn’t close the window you jumped in because, what if, what if we’d made a horrible mistake, how would you get in?

Know that that is what you meant to us, how much we loved you.  You were never just a pet to us.

You were a good cat, the sweetest little thing and I hope that in the year and half that we had you, that you had an awesome life.

31 Jul 2012

50 Shades of Grey

Author: Tash | Filed under: Uncategorized

How oh How can I not have written about 50 Shades of Grey yet? The Horror!

Now unless you live under a rock you would have heard about this book series by now. Or the jokes that follow it… “I got banned from Exclusive Books the other day for moving the “Wet Floor” sign away from the 50 Shades of Grey section…”

Described as “Mommy Porn” for some bizarre reason of which I don’t understand because frankly I don’t think ejecting a child from your vagina should elicit it’s own genre of books and if it does, well then by God I want a genre for untainted vagina’s!

Our vagina’s have the right to read too!

Anyhoo, if you are a woman and have not read this book yet, then I’m afraid we’re going to have to vote you off the island.

This book series is like Mills and Boons but instead of throbbing members and flowering petals you have whips, chains and butt plugs. BUTT PLUGS people, it’s like the Encyclopedia Britannica, if the Encyclopedia Britannica was about Nipple clamps and all things Bondage-y!

Why are all women in the world becoming completely obsessed with this book? Well because it’s the absolute impossible scenario.  Shit like this doesn’t happen in the real world.

A man who takes charge! Chicks dig that. Unless you’re telling us to do dishes or make you a sandwich because well then fuckyouverymuch.

A Gorgeous, 27 year old Billionaire with mommy issues and a craving for a bit of slap and tickle, falls for a girl who worked in a hardware store and does absolutely everything in his power to get her including buying her an Audi R8, a wardrobe of designer clothes, flies her around in a helicopter, laptops, phones, oh yes and gives her the best orgasms she’s ever had. Ever. Everrrrrrrrrrrr.

Sounds awful.

And all he wants in return…? To spank her.

Boo fucking hoo Anastasia Steele.

Only in a book would this cause any woman to have an existential crisis.  Who am I? Do I mind being spanked? Should I walk away from all of this because he occasionally wants to stick something up my bottom?

Are you RETARDED!

Problems I have with this book and why it’s different to my life:

  • She’s a virgin.  It’s like spotting a unicorn with a rainbow coming out of it’s butt.
  • She doesn’t like to eat. No comment… here… hold my chips.
  • She says “Oh My…” a lot! Shut. The. Hell. Up. Yes he’s trying to stick metal bowling balls that vibrate up your hoo-hooo but really? Sacrifices!! It’s just like going to the gynae people, only difference is that he’s gorgeous, you know him, it feels good and he doesn’t tap you on the tummy and say “Let’s see what’s in my Christmas box!” (Incidentally, I no longer go to that gynae!)
  • She allows a man to spank her really hard, and then bursts into tears. Shamepies. If Dalekins had to attempt spanking me on the arse without my express permission I’d junk punch him so hard our great grandchildren would still have a slight indentation on their foreheads!
  • He ties her up with his best grey tie.  If Dalekins had to try tying me up with one of his best ties, I’d have to kill the proceedings immediately because being tied up with something that he got when he was 16 and still has batman on it just doesn’t do it for me. That… and I’d be all about the …”You better make these knots loose, and for the love of God you’re not tying the Winchester properly!! It’s round, round and through the hoop Dale!! Dale… DALE… where are you going… I’m still tied to the bed *hisssssssssssss*”

Otherwise this series is completely decadent, indulgent and a must read and will make you feel like you have kicked a bag of puppies when you finish it.

Unless that wouldn’t make you sad.

In which case… you sicko.

They’re making the movie now.  My vote goes for this Christian Grey!

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