Nothin' butt Shits and giggles.

I have warned you before, I am prone to over-sharing….

Ever since I got back from ProBlogger in Melbourne on Saturday I have had the most ferocious diarrhea. Even for me a new benchmark. At one point I was at the toilet every 15mins. I had to sleep with a drop sheet.

And gut-wrenching stomach cramps. Horrific. Thought I was about to rupture.

I love you, and your Missoni mat

Now the reason I feel comfortable sharing this story is I bet every person reading this will know EXACTLY what I am talking about. There ain’t nothin’ pretty about diarrhea! And it needs to be discussed. 

Diarrhea makes you feel so disgustingling dirty. It doesn’t matter how much Cottonelle you use or how much Domestos you spray around you still feel like you’ve bathed in whatever you just squirted out. At one point I considered Pine'O'Cleen'ing my ass.

And the sweating, combined with the squirting, just makes me feel even more dirty and disgusting. More disgusting than it would voting for Tony Abbot. Or catching a glimpse of an erect priest. Or stuck in a spa with Paris Hilton and Pamela Anderson. Just revolting.

I’ve gone through 3 AirWick’s and 2 Dove Mens cause I am sure the smell still lingers long after the last flush. At one point, in the midst of gripping stomach cramps, I was dead sure it must have been smeared on me. Thankfully it wasn't. That would have been the end of me.

Thanks big guys, you got me through a tough time.

So here’s my theory on diarrhea – the actual dealing with the diarrhea makes having diarrhea so much more dramatic And ten times worse. And that you should be able to buy diarrhea kits at the chemist that come with lovely soft cleansing wipes, air freshener and toilet cleaner.

So of course I called my beautiful Doctor O who over the years has dealt with more embarrassing ailments from me than one poor man should have to suffer through. He’s poked, prodded and scraped near every organ in my body. I called Dr O cause he is the very best at dealing with my ‘boy who cried woof’ mentality.

I was certain he was going to tell me I have bowel cancer as this is how the darker, more vicious side of my mind works. I am rather fixated on cancer. A headache means I’ve got brain tumour. A grey hair means I’ve got cancer of the scalp. A toothache is sure to be gum cancer. Thank fuck, I’ve never had cancer. But I digress…

Turns out my ‘increasing susceptibility’ (yes, this kind of shit happens to me all the time, pun intended) to stomach bugs is due to the bacteria infection I had this time last year. Boring! That’s not even a time-off-work offense. What it does mean though is that I have to go through that whole testing process again, for about the 5^th time in as many years, where you have to shit in a bowl, spoon it into cups and keep some of it in your fridge. Lucky I don’t keep food in there.


I also have to buy some probiotic over the internet. Wow! That's v. cool. Combines medical supplies with shopping. You just know this discovery is gonna get me into trouble.

But be thankful people, the Imodium Advanced and Buscopan Forte have finally kicked in now. It’s been hours since I’ve done the crazy-poo-dash. Thank god!

Now I just need someone to come round and industrial clean Man Pit's toilet.

A Singapore Fling!

I love food. I love food in Singapore.

I love shopping. I love shopping in Singapore.

In 48 hours I had 4 of the most beautiful meals and each time I ate myself to six-months pregnant. Passers-by were sure my stomach must have been an immaculate conception cause, you know, I don’t have a uterus. After each meal I looked a lot like E.T.

The first was Italian, a rather posh restaurant called Senso in the cutest little area on Singa’s. The lobster lasagne was the absolute highlight. And some very strong vodka’s and a spectacular bread basket. Really regretted not getting a simple pasta with truffle oil for entrée, that rocked the table. Wait-staff assisted me and my stomach from the premises.

The second was a ‘best of’ the hawkers at a set-up called “Gluttons Bar” down on the harbour. Well I have never been so gluttonous in my life. ½ kg of pork belly (that’s how it was listed on the menu, no joke!), chicken wings, noodles, satay sticks, some omelette thing and a fried carrot cake that disappointingly had no carrot but goddamn delicious. One of the best meals I’ve ever eaten, ever, and I think it was well under $20 bucks.

The third was dumplings. So many dumplings. So many delicious gorgeous beautiful sexy dumplings. I clapped at the end of the meal much to the horror of Lady M and Mrs Daffy. I could have gone another round of dumplings but my t’shirt was already stretched. I miss you already my beautiful dumplings.

The fourth was a big ol’ chicken fry up at the airport. Lady M and I were quite frazzled by this point as we had just discovered that between us we had over 50kg of check-in luggage and were still carrying about 15kg as carry-on. We are not sure how this happened. We just spent only the one day shopping….

Anyway we could see the KFC, we dreamed of eating the KFC but be fucked if we could get to the KFC. We gave up when we again found ourselves on the wrong mezzanine so settled for KFC’s bastard child Texas Chicken. It was only a 4 out of 10 but still I ate 4 pieces and a large chips. Nothing like a crispy skin fry-up at an airport when you are at the end of a long day.

I love food.

I’m still not sure what the hell went on at Orchard Rd today. It is a labyrinth, a giant maze of underground tunnels, just rows and rows of beautiful shops. SO MANY SHOPS! There were 3 Louis stores within 200m. Surely no one needs that much Louis. And Chanel. And Prada. And Gucci. All my favourite things to look at in kinda a sado-masochistic “you can’t afford any of this shit” sort of way. Damn my self-control though, just picked myself up some little trinkets…

But so many fab things that I wanted to buy but thought better of it. Novelty shopping can not be afforded on my current budget restrictions. I really wanted this Douche Wash.

Now where I come from Douche means something that I DO NOT associate with a face wash.

And some Man Spanx for the middle-aged gut! Every once of self control I had to be employed to not buy these. If maybe I used my gym membership I wouldn’t need these Spanx. But at least I know they exist if my gut-crisis gets any worse.

Now this one is for Aschappelle. Wanted to buy this for him but buying presents for your ex-Boyfriend should surely not be a priority when you already have a dwindling budget. Aschapelle loves a smokey eye, and he’s been known to dabble in make-up artistry with our female friends. I thought this genius little kit could have saved himself and his female victims a world of pain.

Ahhhh Singapore, you were brief but spectacular! I gained 5kg around my waist and a good 7kg in my luggage. All in only 48 hours. Now that’s impressive.

Now off to Koh Samui.

Just the biggest and most sincere thank you to Mr & Mrs Daffy for their unbelievable hospitality and for being the best tour guides in the business.  And of course their little angels Emma and Zara. Thanks so much for having us guys! xoxoxo