kiki
sassy
lozzy
interns
Filed under: brett morris, cameron smith, cooper cronk, footy, josh morris, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
“It’s just been a weird night … and I’ve had a little bit to drink.”
So here’s the disclaimer: I went to Ladyhawke on Saturday night, and despite being Super Responsible and leaving the pub (I know, amazing right?) at well-maybe-a-little-bit-after-midnight like Cinderella, I was … well, look I was drunk when I watched this. Basically, I take no responsibility for being overexcited or imagining shit. But I think it’s more important to focus on the fact that I left a pub while it was still dark. That’s a massive achievement for me, JUST SO YOU KNOW.
To start with, is it wrong to say that I’m a bit in love with the British League commentators? Cause I am. No, not for their comical accents. Those bitches are insightful. They care about the important things: like explaining to the general European public that back in Australia Robbie Farah has a kebab named after him, but DON’T WORRY GUYS, IT’S A HEALTHY KEBAB! IT HAS CHICKEN AND VEGETABLES IN IT AND EVERYTHING.
God forbid anyone in the United Kingdom mistakenly think that Robbie Farah and his visible abs are schilling for some greasy obesity-inducing second-rate kebab. The commentary team are all about accuracy.
Well, all about accuracy … and historical lolz. After explaining in great detail that Northern Frenchies don’t play league because league was one of the things – along with freedom and equality – that Hitler cared not for, they start calling the French defence ‘the resistance’. It’s funny cause it means two things! *slaps knee*
These people? Yep, defenders of freedom and rugby league fans.
Meanwhile if you ever get heckled by rugby union fans for liking league, you can always ask whether they know that the Nazi collaborators and Vichy government in WWII France banned league and promoted union. Yes, people will think you’re a massive loser, but better that than a union follower, right? WE’RE THE RESISTANCE, BITCHES.
It also makes me happy to know that there are other nerds out there if the commentary team ever stumble onto Errol and read our footy posts from last year, they will totally enjoy Kiki’s jokes about Winston Churchill and Stalin and the Cronulla Sharks.
As for the game: not gonna lie, the Aussies didn’t live up to their potential as a team (and the Frenchies agree) but I care not. They had moustaches, and they entertained me, and that’s what counts.
So let’s talk about the Aussie boys.
MOS WIN MATCHES
Um, you know it’s true. No sooner had I pointed out that Cooper Cronk has one of the greatest moustaches in league history and reminds us of a latter-day 40-20 kicking Errol Flynn:
… really? I look that good?
Than he’s all up in the French’s business filling in for Thurston and Lockyer and generally being awesome. Sure, I’d had about six voddies, but I could still tell that the team looked way better in the second half when Cooper came off the bench. IT’S ALL IN THE MO, DARLINGS.
LESSONS FROM WAYNE PEARCE
And if Cooper’s lucky charm is a mo, then Robbie Farah’s is his headband. Remember way back in July when Robbie Farah rocked the tape headband and got his punch on with Anthony Watts?
Well from what he told us at the Kangaroos media call before the boys left, he’s … well he’s kinda proud. He also promised us that he’d bring back the headband as a rugby league look. After all, there’s nothing more Tigers than a tape headband, is there? Even Wayne Pearce knows the answer to that question.
Anyway, we’re pleased to observe that HE TOTALLY DID. Bitch is a man of his word! And there is no way you will ever convince me he didn’t tape himself up as an act of generosity and charity purely to entertain the Errol girls.
Although I do kinda wonder if Robbie just reserves the tape for special occasions, like when he punches on in the scrum, or when he’s going to appear in the starting Kangaroos team on international television. I say it’s no coincidence that Robbie rocked the shit out of the elastoplast in Paris just as he got his start as hooker, right?
THE ACTION IN THE STANDS
Meanwhile, as Robbie stepped in at dummy half, Cam Smith rested it up and discussed history with Brett White in the stands.
(Apparently Cam Smith totally enjoys history, by the way. That wasn’t just me projecting. I read it on the internet so you know it’s true).
French background dude does not appreciate Movember.
Don’t those handlebar moustaches just make you proud to be Australian? I love knowing I’m from a country that thought, you know what will do wonders for men’s health issues? Facial hair.
And with their schmick green Aussie blazers, I love that the touring Kangaroos kind of look like they’re on tour in Paris in 1975. Devils on horseback, anyone? Maybe a prawn cocktail?
I’m actually a bit offended that the Frenchie in the expensive-looking chocolate brown leather jacket in the background is looking so judgy and unimpressed by Cam Smith and Brett White and their handlebar efforts. IT’S CALLED MOVEMBER. IT’S FOR CHARITY. GOOGLE IT.
… but French background dude does find Anthony Watmough hilarious.
Meanwhile if you look in the foreground, NRL media manager David ‘D.T.’Taylor is kicking Movember’s ass with his mo, too. AMAZING WORK DAVE!
When the camera panned to the crowd during the game I almost spat out my diet coke in shock/joy, because Spotting D.T. is one of my favourite footy past times. It might even be better than my other favourite footy past time: ‘picking jobs for Nathan Hindmarsh’s kids’ (I’ll explain that one another time).
Wherever there are NRL players, there has to be an NRL media manager. So spotting D.T is like playing Where’s Wally – he has to be there somewhere, it’s just a question of where.
Exhibit A:
HI D.T! WE LOVE YOU!
You get extra points in this game if you manage to find a pic where he’s standing in the background looking sort of like a creep.
IT’S A MOZTRAVAGANZA!
I don’t know if I should mention it but we totally called it! As predicted, the Mozzie twins were a double-act of awesome against the French, racking up two tries each for a total of four. Four tries for their country? Shit is ridiculous!
I actually think while I was watching the game, when the commentators reminded us all they scored four, I may have yelled out FOUR FOR YOU GLEN COCO, YOU GO GLEN COCO! Apologies to my neighbours. (Except the one who practises the flute every weeknight. They deserve it for annoying the hell out of me).
Clearly the French were dazzled by the Mozzie’s long long Bambi legs, super-speed, and general twinniness, those adorable over-achieving bastards.
Best of all? THE MOZZIES SLEDGE EACH OTHER. As they raced each other to ground a kick for a try I am 100% sure I saw B.Moz mocking J.Moz. And when he scored a second try, he made the international sibling expression for – HAH!
It’s all scratched knees and sibling rivalry in the Morris house
See? I have a brother and I totally make that face too. It’s a universal expression loosely translated as ‘I WIN!’ The only thing better was that when J.Moz got his first try on the board, he celebrated by getting caught on camera first giving an ‘I love you’ shout out to his family back home, then saying ‘thank fuck for that’. Bless.
THE SHOWDOWN
So the English shocked everyone by beating the Kiwis (I’d fallen asleep by this point), giving them the chance to play the Kangaroos in the final on the weekend. Allegedly Tim Sheens has told his team the gloves are off, and if anyone plays dirty, they should give it back. JUST DON’T HIT THE MOZZIES. THEY’RE TOO CUTE FOR VIOLENCE!
THE MONEY
Have you sponsored the Kangaroos yet? WELL HAVE YOU? You know you want to:
All pictures Getty Images
Screen caps by the amazing Cronkster, who’s on holiday in Fiji right now. HAVE FUN DARLING!
Filed under: billy slater, brett morris, cooper cronk, david shillington, footy observations, jarryd hayne, josh morris, movember, nathan hindmarsh, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
One week into Movember already … I’m so happy/sad/overwhelmed in my pants region. Obviously I’m overjoyed that people are starting to show some dirty facial hair, but kinda heartbroken at the same time that my favourite month of the year is already a quarter over. IF ONLY THERE WAS A WHOLE MO-YEAR. Mo-thousand-and-ten, anyone? Two-thousand-and-beard-leven?
Just think about it, people. That’s all I ask.
Meanwhile the Four Nations is also almost over, which I suppose we should talk about. The Kangaroos held out a spirited comeback by the English last weekend, blah blah blah … the main thing is Adrian Morley didn’t start any fights. This meant I was disappointed, so let’s move on. Even though they won, the boys still have to face off against France before making it to the final.
And there’s been lots of dramz about the fact that Inglis and Cam Smith and Billy Slater weren’t going to be in the team. Instead, (one half of the cutest twins on earth) J. Moz and Michael Jennings were picked to play in the centres, Robbie Farah at hooker, and Cooper Cronk on the bench.
Sexiest coach in league nominee Tim Sheens is Not Pleased.
Everyone was calling them the “B team”, which in my opinion = not really that bad. Call me crazy, but considering my greatest ever sporting achievement was taking out the 50m backstroke final at the Independent Girls Grammar Schools’ Sporting Association swimming carnival in 1993, I reckon being in the B team for the Kangaroos is pretty fucking sweet. Just sayin. Apparently Tim Sheens has higher standards than me, though, because he was tres offended.
Kiki was also offended, because she agrees with whatever Tim Sheens thinks, because, and I quote “HE’S JUST SO DREAMY”. True story.
Personally, I also think reuniting the Mozzie twins on the left side of the field is a stroke of coaching genius. First of all, it will give them a psychological boost to get them over the fact that while everyone else in the Kangaroos is sporting amazing Movember moustaches, they’re sporting … um … skin. Sure you’re hairless, but you’re representing your country! Good for you darlings!
Will the Errol girls still love me if I can’t grow hair for charity?
Secondly, it’s totally gonna confuse the Frenchies. Since Setanta folded, I’m guessing the French haven’t been watching much of the NRL. Assuming French television is as backwards as french plumbing, this means all they’ll have had to watch for the past few months is right-wing political talk shows, repeats of Neighbours dubbed into French and old Jane Birkin film clips.
Clearly, this means that they’ll get the shock of their lives when two identical twins run out on the field and they have to mark them.
They’ll be all mais qu’est-ce que c’est? Quelle confusion! Est-ce qu’ils sont des gemelles? Je ne sais pas! Croissant! Ou est-ce qu’on met le table?
(Disclaimer: some of that may have just been random snippets from my year 7 French book. Whatever. Just be grateful I didn’t accidentally explain to you how to get the bus to Creteil to go windsurfing).
The point is Tim Sheens is a Machiavellian genius.
There’s also a lot of talk about the French being niggly in the game, because they have nothing to lose. I also think it would happen, mainly because they are French. Europeans care not for rules! It’s one of my favourite things about them. I almost fell over in shock the first time I got to a Metro station in Paris and realised not only are there no voiceovers warning you to stand back from the track and no yellow lines, they even let you OPEN THE DOOR YOURSELF. Insanity! Who knew there were places where you’re allowed to do as you please and fend for yourself? You can even drink in the street.
As opposed to Australia where there are rules for absolutely everything, because we are considered to be inherently kind of incompetent and untrustworthy and need to be protected from ourselves. IT’S CAUSE WE’RE CONVICTS, ISN’T IT?
Meanwhile if you think we’re excited about footy, you should see the French kids. They’re bandits for the Kangaroos! Apparently they mobbed Jonathon Thurston and trapped him against the side of the team bus with the sheer force of their fandom.
Maybe it’s because he’s a world-famous halfback. But maybe, just maybe, it’s because the French appreciate a good moustache. I’m going with the mo. You know it makes sense! It also explains why there’s that massive flock of kids surrounding David Shillington, because he is growing an especially natty mo, don’t you think?
Aw, stop it you guys! You’re making me blush! (Just kidding, don’t stop).
What can I say? I’m a sucker for a classic mo. As much as I enjoy the way Jonathon Thurston looks as though he was a key player in the Sydney waterfront dispute of 1998:
(Pls feel free to use your imagination to insert and/or photoshop Jonathon Thurston here.)
… I can’t resist a neat little 1930s moustache. Which means that the Sassy prize for the first week goes to Cooper Cronk:
Amazing. It’s almost Errol Flynn-ish. Naturally, we adore it.
Jennings and Thaiday are eager to be considered for next week’s Sassy prize
Yes, yes, we see you too, boys.
And while we’re talking facial hair, shout outs have to go to Billy Slater, for his amazing Super Mario effort:
Nathan Hindmarsh for his ongoing transformation into Russell Hammond:
and, um …. participation awards? Sure, let’s call it that, for Jarryd-with-a-Y and Robbie Farah:
Participation awards, babies! (Also, in Robbie’s defence, he has probably been too busy negotiating with the Unions and transport companies on the waterfront with JT to have time to grow a mo).
Remember to watch the game TONIGHT on channel 9, and come back with your game/mo updates. And to sponsor the boys:
All pics via Getty Images.
So you should just about have time to read this before you watch the money you bet slip away the Cup this afternoon. That sounds bitter, right? It’s not meant to. I have a real soft spot for Melbourne Cup (Kiki hates it with the fire of a thousand suns, if you’re wondering. Along with glitter nailpolish, it’s one of the only things we disagree on).
Mainly, this is because I approve of events where you can drink on a Tuesday morning without fear of judgment. Sure, you can drink on regular Tuesdays, but there’s always that nagging voice/narky passerby/priest/boss/therapist who comes along and ruins it by suggesting that maybe you should drink your morning orange juice without champagne in it. UM, IT’S MADE OF GRAPES. HOW IS THAT NOT ACCEPTABLE AS A BREAKFAST BEVERAGE? FASCISTS.
I also have fond memories of my slightly-morally-compromised Nanna picking me up early from primary school every Melbourne Cup day so I could come home and eat tiny tiny sandwiches with her and her silver-haired friends, and see first hand whether my horse won. This mattered because Nan would also put $2 bets on for me at the TAB. Any day when you get to miss school AND WIN EIGHT BUCKS is, needless to say, pretty much the greatest day ever for a six year old. That eight bucks could buy you 800 chocolate freckles. Or a primary school slave for about a week. No wonder I love Melbourne Cup day. It’s just a whole inevitable Pavlovian thing, you know?
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that children love gambling.
And of course Melbourne Cup also involves some of my all-time favourite things as an adult. These things include, but are not limited to:
- Drunk girls buying giant bags of Doritos at the servo on Alison Road opposite the racecourse at 6pm. Nothing goes with Doritos like wilted feathers and a bunyan.
- Fascinators in general. They’re played out and ugly, yet people refuse to let them go, which I find delightful in a really mean and peverse way. Think of it as the headwear equivalent of ‘the Emperor has no clothes’.
- The actual news being replaced by endless montages of horses and people in fancy outfits for me to judge as I eat my dinner. YES PLEASE.
- More importantly: footage on the news of some girl from Melby who got blind and vommed in a sulo. Anything that makes my behaviour in general life look better is something I approve of.
- Awkward office Melbourne Cup functions. When I worked in an office, the prospect of having to make small talk with Sheila from accounts over a glass of slightly warm champas in the foyer, while she rocks a printed wrap dress with her regular day-to-daqy office mules and asks me why I don’t have flowers in my hair made me want to die. Now that I don’t I think they are just peachy.
- Did I mention you can drink in the day? At work?
And because the Australian Kangaroos team are still on their quest to be the most awesome sporting team in Aussie history, they’re not just doing Movember, they’re also on the Bigpond website doing a Melbourne Cup Sweeps.
Of COURSE they’re doing a Melbourne Cup sweeps. It’s part of their big plan to Make Sassy Love Them. And yes, boys, the plan is totally working.
I may have squealed a little bit watching the video. In my defence, I’m only human. If you can watch giant footy players jumping in the air to try and pull tiny bits of paper out of a bowl and exclaiming with glee at their horses without squealing a little bit, then you have no soul.
Here’s my pick out of the footy boys’ tips:
Ben Hannant likes Master O’Reilly, because it’s running as number 4, and his kid is turning 4 today. You can’t argue with that logic! It’s the kind of logic that people have used for centuries to make up PINs for their EFTPOS cards and win lotteries. It’s foolproof.
Disclaimer: May not be actual Ben Hannant.
But if you really want a good tip, you’d have to go with Billy Slater right? His pick in the sweeps and his pick to win is Alcopop, and you have to admit bitch knows his ponies. If anyone has the inside word from the land of the jockeys, it has to be Billy. Plus, if you look closely, you can also see that he’s well into growing a sweet sweet moustache for Mobember … and if you can’t trust a man growing a mo for charity, who can you trust?
SEE? Sweet mo indeed.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bet on Alcopop. IF IT LOSES YOU OWE ME $20 BILLY.
Filed under: billy slater, brett morris, footy, footy observations, justin poore, movember, nathan hindmarsh, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
So you know how we can be narky bitches? Some things make even our black hearts overflow with joy. And two of those things are happening RIGHT NOW. Thanks to some pretty fabulous boys, October and November have quickly become my favourite non-footy time of the year.
TIMMY MANNAH DOES THE WORM
Remember last year we told y’all about Justin Poore, Nathan Hindmarsh and the boys and the awesome work they were doing for Village of Hope in Rwanda?
Pic. Gregg Porteous via news.com.au
Well apparently it was enough to inspire J.Poore to single-handedly try and provide enough content to fill up the Daily Telegraph’s ‘Scandal-Free Back Page’ for the whole of 2009. Because using his giant front-rowers arms to build homes for the Rwandans still suffering from the genocide of the 1990s wasn’t enough, he set up Poore Rwanda, which has already raised more than 30 grand towards the goal of building five homes for families in need, AND has taken another bunch of Eels players over to do their bit.
Um …. are you speechless? Yeah, me too. Pretty sure when I first heard about all of this I had to pause, put my cereal spoon down (why yes, I was having cereal for dinner. What of it?), and the only words I could manage to spit out were: “YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BE A BETTER MAN”.
Seeing the work J.Poore, Joel Reddy, Joe Galuvao, Tim Mannah and Kris Keating were doing on this trip is almost too much, you know?
I’m like a five year old, I don’t handle too much excitement well. Like the time in Las Vegas when I was so drunk excited at the prospect of seeing Elton John live at Caesar’s Palace I almost lost my damn mind. Kiki literally had to tell me to STOP SKIPPING THROUGH THE CASINO. YOU LOOK LIKE AN INSANE PERSON. It may have been because I was wearing a leopard print skirt at the time. I’m not sure. But I do know she was thisclose to giving me a flash of Phenergen and sending me back to the Hard Rock.
So you can imagine what I looked like when I saw the first pics of the boys over in Rwanda. Not just being adorable and doing good … but being fucking hilarious and awesome and Oz. They’re pretty much international ambassadors for Aussie culture.
Which makes sense, really, because if there’s one thing Australian men always ALWAYS do when their overseas, it’s roam in packs. Seeing an Aussie man alone overseas is like spotting a Tasmanian Tiger. And it’s the same with footy players – where there’s one, there’s always more. Usually also wearing screen-printed hoodies or team tracksuit pants. Cause that’s how they roll.
And the Eels boys over in Rwanda didn’t just have the ‘group travel thing down’ … they’re also ambassadors for Aussie fashionz. Check it out:
Joel Reddy displays the national costume of all Aussie boys when overseas: boardshorts.
Timmy Mannah wears his heart on his bucket hat. MATE DID YOU KNOW I’M AUSTRALIAN? IT SAYS SO ON MY HAT/TOWEL/BOARDSHORTS/HAVAIANAS.
And is that a chesty bonds I spy over there on the left on Justin Poore? A CHESTY BONDS LOOKING ON WHILE TIM MANNAH DOES THE WORM?
Excuse me while I die of joy.
So far, Hope Rwanda has built 30 houses for homeless families in three years, and if you wanna give them a little helping hand, maybe head over to HOPE:Rwanda or Poore Rwanda … you know you want to.
ps. Welcome home, boys!
Rwanda pics copyright www.hoperwanda.org
MOUSTACHES ARE FOR WINNERS
And yep, that’s the other reason why October and November make me happy in my heart … and in my pants. ONLY FIVE SLEEPS TILL MOVEMBER!
Nyello, I have an awesome mo on the line … will you accept the charges?
All of us Errol girls are complete bandits for a man with a moustache. Which, to be honest, you should be able to tell considering that we have Errol Flynn and his dapper little moustache rocking out on our website banner. HI EZ!
I love any man who’s willing to give up vanity and be part of Movember. Cause those first two weeks of trying to grow a mo are seriously bleak. They’re the facial hair equivalent of those awkward teenage years, where you have to wander around your workplace trying to look authoritative and competent despite the fact that you have four or five tentative, sad little moustache hairs sitting on your lip, and everyone looking at you like they’re not quite sure whether you’re doing Movember, or have just gone through a bad breakup and given up on life.
Plus you can’t wear a tracksuit of any kind for at least a fortnight cause, with the creepy little half-mo, it makes you look like a teenage meth dealer.
The upside, of course, is that at the end of four weeks you have a fucking sweet moustache that makes me girls go crazy for you, and you get to raise much-needed funds and awareness for men’s depression and prostate cancer. [I'd like to add that this will be our first ever Movember where one of us is actually going out with a mo-grower. That lady is me and I could not be more excited *waves at Suchy* - lozzy]
So any man who signs up for Movember has our respect. Also, they can feel free to come up and say hi if they see me in the street and I’ll give them complimentary gropes.
Last year we celebrated Movember by running our own campaign with everyone’s favourite intern, John Williams … can you believe we raised almost TWO AND A HALF GRAND? I seriously still can’t believe it.
This year, we’re not running our own Mo-team, but we’re doing something almost as good. We’re throwing our support behind the Kangaroos.
Because you all read our blog over on She Knows the Rules (you do … right? RIGHT? Hmmmm?) you already know that this year the Kangaroos are doing Movember.
Finally! Our dream of footy players being forced to participate in Movember has come true. Apparently they’re actually competing to see who can grow the best mo, but I think we all know already that’s gonna be Cameron Smith. There’s no way that bitch is gonna let anyone beat him. THIS IS HIS EVENT. HE FUCKING OWNS IT. If there was a Four Nations Tournament for hair-growing he would be captain, for reals. With Sam Thaiday as his deputy.
Cam Smith has already hinted he plans to grow a handlebar, also known as the Merv Hughes. Good choice, by the way.
But in case the rest of the boys are undecided, I’ve got a few suggestions.
Robbie Farah is clearly a special for the Errol Flynn. Nothing would go better with his neatest-hair-in-the-world than a dapper little Errol mo.
I think he’s got the fashion sense to pull it off too. When the Wests Tigers media officer asked him about Kangaroos camp, he gave us this gem about Royce Simmons:
Roycey is always Roycey…tries to be funny but really he isn’t. We always laugh but what he doesn’t know is that we are laughing at him, not with him. He has promised me he’ll let me take him shopping while we’re over here because I’m sick of his crap polo shirts and ugly brown shoes that he always wears. He must have 10 pairs of them!
Oh, Robbie.
I’ve also decided nothing would go better with Nathan Hindmarsh’s Russell Hammond hair than a Dennis Lillee.
And Billy Slater, aka Errol’s Newest Footy Crush … well, my spidey senses tell me he can probably grow about as much of a mo as I can. Which before you ask IS NOT VERY MUCH. God. What kind of girl do you think I am? So instead of suggesting a mo, I’m just gonna FedEx him this:
If you want to sign up, or sponsor the Kangaroos, get over to the Movember site.
FOUR NATIONS FOR WITHDRAWALS
And probably the thing that makes us happiest: THERE’S STILL FOOTY ON. Thank God, cause it means we don’t have to go straight from four days of footy a week to none. Cold turkey is a bitch. Instead we’ve got the Four Nations to ease us out of the regular season.
And if you’re like me, you watched the Four Nations games on replay on Foxtel. The way the lord intended. Unless I’m getting home at 5am … I don’t want anything to do with the sunrise. It’s uncivilised and unhealthy and I refuse to have anything to do with it. Just one of the many reasons why I’m a writer.
To be completely truthful, it was sort of hard to get up at midday, but that’s not the point.
Pic. Getty Images
The point is it was worth it. Errol favourite Brett Morris scoring on debut for the Kangaroos AND first try of the game. GO B.MOZ GO! I can say with full certainty it was our support during the season that made this possible. Some may say it was thanks to Cameron Smith’s brilliant offload and Greg Inglis’ excellent run, but I KNOW BETTER. That shit was all thanks to Errol.
Yes, he also … well, he sort of fell over and missed out on scoring another try earlier in the game:
“I was trying to set up an in and away on the fullback and I went to step off my foot and I fell down a hole. I put my foot down … tripped over and looked like an idiot. It wasn’t too good.”
Whatever. I maintain that was only because his legs are so long. Like Bambi. IT’S NOT HIS FAULT, PEOPLE.
Apparently B.Moz’s appeal is international, too, because the Sky commentators can’t get enough of him. As far as I can tell, the only time they stopped talking about Fui Fui Moi Moi and Jared Warea-Hargreaves was when they spent 10 minutes waxing lyrical about B.Moz. Isn’t he fast? Did you know he started the year in reserve grade? And he’s only only 23! And on debut!
Um, of course we know. We’re way ahead of the curve, bitches.
Till next time, kittens x
Filed under: anthony watmough, australia, billy slater, brett morris, footy, footy observations, george rose, intern john john, interns loz and butch, jarryd hayne, josh morris, manly sea eagles, melbourne storm, oh errol, parramatta eels, robbie farah, st george dragons | Tags: Posted by Kiki
Intern John John anxiously awaited our return
HI DARLINGS!
I know, I know…we have been absent of late. We are shit and we know it. People keep harassing us asking for more blogs and are all WHY HAVEN’T YOU WRITTEN ABOUT THE GRAND FINAL YOU LAZY SHITS etc etc. We have no excuses except this one : being writers for a living now is both a blessing and a curse. Amazing because we get to do what we love and get paid for it, but shit because it kinda sucks out our creative juice and leaves us a bit well…dry.
And yes I am aware of how (untintentionally) gross that sentence was.
Now let’s sum up what’s been happening in mah head lately
a) The Grand Final was bloody awful. And no, not because the Storm won. It was awful because I spent the whole day in deep emotional pain thinking THE BLOODY DRAGONS SHOULD BE HERE GODAMNIT THIS SUCKS. And by ‘thinking’, I mean ‘loudly announcing it to no one in particular then kicking the ground like a small child’.
I was in the middle of a booze ban but I had to down a couple of vodkas to cope. Once again, the Dragons are directly to blame for my alcohol intake. I hope Peter Doust has a special fund set up for my future liver transplant.
Also, I spent most of the day being enraged at the massive amounts of Parra bandwagoners that were milling about just begging to be punched in the face. Look I am all for new people coming to the game, and I truly want league to be really popular, but is there anything worse than tools sporting freshly bought merchandise and being Smuggy Mc Smuggersons? I’ll answer it for you: no, no there is not.
In an ironic twist, Billy Slater decides he hates overexposed fullbacks
On the bus there, we were sitting next to a girl who was wearing…wait for it…a backless bodysuit and a Parramatta scarf. Because her back is so hot but her neck is FREEZING! GO PARRA! She teamed this with skin tight jeans and strappy high heels. ARGH. We were forced to listen to her inane questions which consisted of ’so, like, is there like, a toilet near the seats?’ and ‘do you think the Eels would be like, nervous today?’. I bet her favourite player of all timez is Jarryd Hayne. He’s sooooo hot.
And yes, if you’re wondering, I am completely aware that I am bitter and resent the fact the Eels found form when my boys lost theirs. But in my defence, Kate, my other-bestie-that-isn’t-Sassy, the biggest Parra fan in the entire universe, also hates the bandwagoners with a passion. When I sent her an sms to describe the Bodysuit Girl she said ‘murder her immediately, I will visit you in jail I promise’.
b) In a twist that is worthy of a Mexican telenovela, I have decided I that I now like Billy Slater. Yes, really. I know, I know…I’m freaked out too. Next thing you know my evil twin is gonna appear wearing a maroon jersey and stilettos, drinking Bundy rum and yelling QUEENSLANDER in peoples faces.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but I think it started with Rexona’s Greatest Athlete. Then it snowballed when our friend Edwina started to like footy. And by that I mean she started to obsess over Hot Bitch Cooper and Billy and started forcing me to realise Billy has beautiful skin and pretty eyes and oh god…he’s kinda cute. And worst of all, likeable. I kept telling myself the only reason I was on GettyImages searching for Billy pix was for Eddie but then at the Grand Final I involuntarily yelled GO BILLY. I hate myself so much.
Kiki retreats to 1997 fashionz to ease the off season pain
c) I have literally experienced post season depression. I’ve been massively emo. For ages I couldn’t figure out why I felt like something had stolen my heart and filled my chest with sad sad cement then I realised oh my god, it’s because there’s no footy on. I am simultaneously proud and ashamed of this.
Okay now onto things that aren’t me.
So last week we got to play with the VB Kangaroos. Seriously. Somehow we managed to annoy charm the NRL’s media manager, David Taylor, into letting us come along to their media call and conduct some video interviews. Being the legend that he is, DT asked us who we wanted to speak to and he just made it all happen. Seriously kids, we just sat on our little lounge and superstahs like Billy Slater, Robbie Farah and the Mozzie twins were just brought over to us. Footy player delivery!
Anyway, since JJ and the boys had to hold down the fort at Errol HQ, we brought along our interns for the day, Loz and Butch. They found Errol by googling naked photos of David Williams, which is really quite fitting. They are basically 17 yr old versions of Sassy and myself, which I find both terrifying and delightful. Here is their take on the day (yes these interns actually exist and they wrote this for reals!).
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Last Tuesday was National Nipples Day Out (thankyou Robbie ‘headlights’ Farah, ambassador of this campaign), otherwise known as the Kangaroo’s media call. We are best friends, we love football, the Sea Eagles, Georgie Rose, High School Musical, doing the hoedown throwdown whilst cooking and Big Del (Little Del goes down alright to). We DON’T love dirty dirty Queenslanders, with the exception of Billy Slater.
After 2nd helpings of Maccas breakfast, due to the fact we were an hour early, we met Kiki and Sassy and made our way into the Pullman htel, got settled and dolled ourselves up, ready for Robbie.
From the moment he walked around the corner, Robbie’s infamous visible nipples were on full display for us (and didn’t we LOVE it). Bitch is also full of lolz, who knew?? When asked about his recent shirtless kebab photo, Robbie seemed….errrrr, slighty….confused, like he’s done it on many occasions……which is AWSOME, coz it means there are more out there. Here’s a preview -
Anyway, turns out Robbie is extremely proud of when he punched Anthony Watts waaaaaaay back in round 19. He was all ‘nobody thought I’d do it……..but I DID!’. Kinda like how kids are when they go to the toilet by themselves for the first time.
Next was Billy Slater. As we all circled around him (after Sassy elegantly kicked over a glass coke bottle that smashed everywhere), Kiki told him that this wasn’t gunna be a normal interview, he replied with (whilst looking slighty nervous) “I can see that”. Pretty AND observant, what’s not to love? Billy didn’t even seem bothered by Butch’s question of how he keeps his skin so radiant. His answer? GENETICS!! However, we did get the goss on who in the Melby (gag) team moisturizes. Cooper Cronk? OF COURSE he does. When one is a fierce bitch like Cooper Cronk, one must look after one’s skin, non?
Also, we are 99% sure that Watmough recognised us from the Manly fan days and shit like that were we have met him…. It may have also been that time when Butch walked past his car and he had ‘DAMN WHO’S A SEXY BITCH’ blaring (don’t even pretend that wasn’t aimed at me Watmough, you sly dog -B). Or, it could have just been in our heads. We have active imaginations, WHAT OF IT?
So while we waited for the Mozzies, we relaxed on the lounges. Apparently we’re relaxed interns (meaning we do nothing). Butch demonstrated how relaxed we were by reclining on the lounge in a slightly provocative manner. That magic moment was caught on tape by some lucky sport channel. Youtube it bitches!
Meanwhile, B.Moz cares not for being top point scorer of the Errol Wildcats, or the top try scoreer for the NRL, bitch just wanted to be captain of the Wildcats!
LOOK HOW UPSET HE IS! It seemed to us that J.Moz was kinda put off that B.Moz knew all about Errol but he didn’t. They also seemed quite please by the fact that they were nominated for the best legs in league, but slightly affronted that Uncy Wayne wasn’t nominated for Sexiest Coach.
In conclusion, footy we love you! We also kinda, maybe, probably, defssss love the people that play footy. Oh and Kiki and Sassy, we’ll intern for you anytime and we promise actual communication to the players next time, not just nervous giggles.
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The girls were hilarious and adorable and we will have them intern with us again any time. We love you kittens! Sassy and I will be writing our own post on the day, including VIDEO INTERVIEWS. Real ones! I know, I can’t believe they let us that close to the players either.
Is this the longest Errol post ever? Possibly. It should shut up you whingers that have been blog-begging for the past month anyway.
PS – MASSIVE thanks to the amazing David Taylor for hooking us up on Kangamaroooooos Day. DT, you are our new favourite person!
PPS -The Errol Awards are coming I swear to God. We decided this year to leave them until after the season ended so we could stretch out the footy goodness as long as possible.
(photos from GettyImages)
Filed under: billy slater, footy observations, melbourne storm, nathan hindmarsh, parramatta eels, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
Darlings we have been so busy! Have you been reading us on She Knows the Rules and 2DayFM? I hope so. And in the meantime all of a sudden it’s Grand Final time. We are overjoyed/heartbroken. As in … what do we do when it’s over? I’m already completely baffled about what to do this Saturday night with no Super Saturday on tv. Is this when you’re meant to go out? Like … with the young people? Cause God knows I refuse to start watching soccer. THAT WOULD JUST BE MASOCHISTIC. If that’s the alternative then I’m seriously considering taking up cross-stitch or a valium addiction or something equally thrilling and productive instead.
Sup Papua! (Pic. via News Limited / the Daily Telegraph)
So in the interest of delaying the end of footy season a lil bit longer, let’s talk about the Prime Ministers XIII. Or as Kiki keeps accidentally calling them, the PM’S XI. She cares not for the wingers! 11 players only!
We were all over this business the second it was announced, because apparently we have EXACTLY THE SAME TASTE as K.Rudd. Every time he picks this team he ends up putting in some of our fave boys who we could’ve sworn no one but us had noticed. It’s … serendipity, or something. We are totally psychically connected. Call me Kevin! We can shop together!
This year he picked out Terry ‘T.Camps’ Campese, beloved by everyone at the Errol office, especially after that time he threw a ball at Dean Young’s head. He also picked the frontrunner for Oh Errol’s Neatest Man in League award 2009: Robbie Farah.
HI ROBBIE! So neat! So efficient! So focussed! He’s like some kind of … Robbiebot. A Robbiebot in a Kangaroos training shirt. A Robbiebot … with visible nipples? Evidently they’re using the latex manufacturer to make the Robbiebot as they used to make the Batman outfits back when George Clooney played Batman.
HOLY PLASTIC NIPPLES BATMAN!
And the boys were too good for the Kumuls. They took out the game 42-18, which, to be honest, I’d be pretty damn happy with. The PNG boys are kinda badass. Apparently they’re also a bit prone to a spear tackle, and I can only assume they’re glad they didn’t injure anyone cause we Errol girls can be terrifying when someone messes with one of our Errol boyz.
Luckily, Dimples Dugan came home with his dimples in tact.
Just one teeny tiny problem. Um …. so while the game was going on, they kind of … well, this is awkward. How do you say this, exactly? PNG lost some prisoners. Happens all the time right? A few wardens go on strike, 54 inmates cut a hole in the fence, and all of a sudden they get away because the police are busy guarding a footy match. Whatever. COULD HAPPEN TO ANYONE. Prisoners really wanted to go to the game too, kk?
Everyone in this picture loves footy.
And after captaining the team last year, the awesome that is Nathan Hindmarsh was left out of the PM’s squad. Mainly, this is probably because he has to, you know, play a Grand Final. But something tells me he’s pretty happy to stay in Sydney and chill with his boys. Hindy be pimpinnn.
And yes, by ‘his boys’, I mean Matt Keating and Feleti Mateo. NO, NOT YOU LUKE BURT! YOU STAY OVER THERE IN THE CORNER ALONE. I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE A BOO BOO.
Plus it means Hindy gets to enjoy the rampant Parra fever that’s gripped Sydney at the moment.
THE HAYNE TRAIN WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS.
Pic. Justin Lloyd.
Don’t people love a bandwagon? If I was a little bit kinder, I might describe it the way the Herald Sun did:
Astounded by the rush of support from previously latent fans, Parramatta officials are still devising a plan to accommodate an expected throng of 20,000 partygoers should they complete a fairytale premiership.
CEO Paul Osborne is hoping to present the team to the faithful at Parramatta Stadium, which has seating for 22,000 and is capable of hosting thousands more on-field.
PREVIOUSLY LATENT FANS. What a great phrase for all those incredibly annoying people on facebook who haven’t uttered a WORD about footy all year now littering my feed with 85 updates on how they are sooooo happy Parra are in the finals. I’m glad you’re supporting league and all but YOUR STATUS UPDATES ARE ANNOYING. STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.
Pic. Gary Graham
Obviously this doesn’t apply if you are this guy, from the Daily Telegraph website, who has turned his Holden Commodore into a Parra Eels tribute. That is fucking amazing and he can do whatever he likes, even if that involves multiple annoying status updates.
Meanwhile down in Melbourne – as far as I can tell – the Storm threw an open training session so that Melbourne fans from far and wide could come and meet Billy Slater. That’s all that happened, right?
He’s like …. the people’s princess. He’s totally the Princess Di of footy. They love him! Even I have a weird fondness for Billy Slater and we all know that I hate everyone. What can I say? He won me over a) with his lovely skin and b) when everyone hated him for that brief period back in 2008. I am contrary like that.
Father Bob baptises Billy with holy water in a Gatorade bottle. Even God loves Billy Slater!
I can’t wait till Billy starts opening hospital cancer wards and arriving at Gala events in show-stopping one shouldered blue gowns.
Then, of course, there’s the other reason Hindy needed to stay in town: Grand Final breakfast. Also known as A Great Day for Sassy. I’ve already discussed how much I love seeing a footy player in a suit. I’ve said it before but it’s mesmerising. There’s something delightful about seeing someone look so uncomfortable … you know?
Exhibit A: buttons don’t usually go there, right?
Pic. Phil Hillyard
And this year Hindy made the whole thing even more enjoyable with the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. (He’s available for birthdays/functions/corporate retreats if you’re wondering. Deposit non-refundable).
Pic. Phil Hillyard
According to Hindy:
“I think Haynesy wrote in Cosmopolitan magazine that his body is a blessing,” said Hindmarsh at the NRL grand final breakfast on Thursday.
“That is enough motivation for me to try harder on the field.”
And doesn’t Ben Smith love it? He’s an easy laugh, like us. Heart.
Meanwhile Dan Dan Mortimer was apparently writing during the brekkie, and now thanks to Friday’s Daily Telegraph, we know that it is. (Hint: it’s not, as I suspected, a note reading DO YOU WANT TO SKIP DOUBLE P.E. THIS AFTERNOON? with two little ticky-boxes marked ‘yes’ and ’no … cause I’M A LOSER’.
But the Eels of 2009 looked as though they were headed for a Sunday afternoon barbecue as players joked and giggled their way through yesterday’s Grand Final Breakfast at Darling Harbour’s Convention Centre.
Nathan Hindmarsh pulled faces at the 650-strong audience and laughed about his loose shorts, Jarryd Hayne made gags about Hindmarsh, Fuifui Moimoi smiled as he hid from Fox Sports’ cameras, while Daniel Mortimer wrote a note, which Hindmarsh stole and gave to coach Daniel Anderson.
“Yes, you can have some water, Daniel,” Anderson said.
Don’t you love it? I love it.
In fact, the only person I can think of who loves GF breakfast more than I do is Fui Fui Moi Moi. Just look at him, so full of love!
Pic. Phil Hillyard
Apparently also not really able to tie a tie, but conveniently there’s no tie in a footy uniform, is there? Also BET FELETI TOTALLY LOVES DOING IT. Makes him feel needed.
Pic. Phil Hillyard
Which brings us to tips. You already know who we want to win (or you should know if you’ve been reading She Knows the Rules).
But we mean actual tips. Shit we’d put money on.
Kiki says the Storm. She says they’ve got too much finals experience, they’re soming off the motivation of a stinging lost in last year’s GF, and also, they are pure evil. Her reasoning is that you don’t get a happy ending two years in a row.
I say Parra. And I say this with full disclosure that I’m tipping with my heart, not my head. Parra are – like us – delightfully inconsistent. But like us, sometimes the battlers come out on top. I think that Parramatta are motivated and feeling blessed enough by the Gods and the NRL judiciary to go into the game with enough confidence to throw the ball around and really freak Melbourne out. And with a style of attack that’s only a few weeks old, I think Melbourne might crack.
Lozzy refuses to put in a tip and explanation because she just started a swishy new job yesterday and is “so compeltely fucking exhausted” from being nice to strangers/trying to find the bathroom/getting public transport/dealing with IT that she cannot even talk.
In the meantime, email me with enquiries for the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. I take a 10% commission. Hindy’s totally cool with it.
Filed under: australia, david williams, footy, footy observations, george rose, gold coast titans | Tags: Posted by Sassy
JOYFUL NEWS, KITTENS! And not just the normal joyous they-wrote-a-post news. We have some sweet sweet loot to show off.
As you may or may not have realised, the Titans have discovered the wonder that is twitter, and hooked up the awesome tattooed Mat Rogers with his own twitter account. And can we just say … GOOD CHOICE TITANS. Because Mat the rat’s introduced a semi-regular shirtless guessing contest, where he posts headless torso shots of his teammates and internet creeps like us win sweet prizes.
Well … IT ARRIVED. In a special little tube with M. Rogers on the back. The thought of the Titans five eighth and his giant tattooed arms rocking up at a post office in the Goldy and demanding a protective tube for a signed Titans poster is straight up amazing. THANKS MAT!
We especially love that it’s been photoshopped so that the Titans are both on Gold Coast beach …. AND several kilometres away from the Gold Coast skyline with a stretch of sea in between. We just wish iPhones took detailed enough pics so that you could see Kevin Gordon’s amazing mullet in the bottom left corner. Maybe we’ll bring it to the errol Chrissie party so you can all luxuriate in it’s brilliance in person … yes? Deal.
In other news Friends star Matthew Perry Jason Taylor has officially been booted from the bunnies for the recent, um, I’m rapidly running out of euphemisms for off-field indiscretions. Let’s just call it … unpleasantness, the way Southerners do when they talk about the Civil War.
Apparently the decision to cut him loose was kinda tricky though, so they made it at a super-top-secret bigshot lockdown powwow at Russell Crowe’s central coast compound. Cause you can’t make these kinda decisions over a coffee at Bill & Toni’s … sometimes you just need a charter flight and an over night stay at Nana Glen.
Look at the boys arriving at the air strip! It’s so … Untouchables. Or President Clinton sitting down by the ping pong table at Camp David with Yasser Arafat and Ehud Barak trying to broker a Middle East peace deal over a game of singles.
Except instead of dealing with decades of ethnic and religious conflict, it’s about Jason Taylor doing (allegedly) drunk Kung Fu.
We also like to think that Rusty adds a bit more flair to the Crowe compound than they have at Camp David. Bet when you arrive at the Nana Glen gates you get a little gift bag, complete with a leather jacket with your name and team logo on the back and an awesome Rabbitohs baseball cap. There’s probably a rabbit-shaped helipad behind the stables, too. And when you get home you get a little note on customised red and green stationery that’s just signed ” …. RUSSELL.”
Just Russell! Like Cher.
While we’re on the topic of fierce bitches … SUP GEORGE ROSE!
We spotted our favourite dynamo with the Kangaroos training squad chilling at the pool the other day. To be completely honest, we thought that with the demise of Shane Warne, the days had long passed when a man carrying a little extra bulk could represent his nation at an elite level in his chosen sport. And we were DEVASTATED. As ladies who love nothing more than a sausage roll and/or a fatlete, we were pretty damn sad. We like to think if you don’t have to be buff to be a blogger, why do you have to be all Matt Cooper-ripped to play sport? Hmmmmm? BODY FASCISTS.
My friends, we were wrong. Gorgeous George (who, by the way, is totally a hit on Twitter. Almost everyone on our followers list is completely enamoured of him) proved us wrong. He’s a wrecking ball of a forward and he cares not for diets.
Look how relaxed he looks! Our man George is so ready for this tour bitches.
Dave Williams, on the other hand, looks like he’s at what Tim Sheens calls “wrist-cutting situation”. WHY SO SAD DAVEY?
All the other Kangaroos are busy leaping in the pool and bonding like fishes, but not Dave.
IS IT THE BEARD? That may just be the face of a man who is realising that without a giant beard, he’s not a wolfman (yeuch) anymore. He’s just. a. man. It may also be the face of a man who has frequent and intense State of Origin flashback nightmares. Who can say? Either way, Davey’s still our Errol patron saint and we don’t like seeing our mans sad.
STOP TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THE HELL YOUR GOGGLES ARE AND COMFORT THE MAN, GIDLEY!
Apparently they don’t have swimming pools in Newcastle, cause Chris Houston looks fucking baffled, too. I can’t believe that there can be a city that has multiple Henny Penny outlets but whose residents can’t use swimming goggles … or remember to take their t shirts off before swimming. Oh, Newie.
Ricky Stuart’s coaching loss is also our eyes’ pervy gain cause the new Kangaroos coach is that dapper old man Tim Sheens. I’m not kidding. We love his swagger. One afternoon at Leichhardt he sauntered past in his rockin leather jacket and Kiki almost fell off her chair.
In conclusion: yes we have awesome taste.
In case you’re wondering: yes we WILL be at the double-header at Leichhardt this weekend … come say hi Mr. Sheens.
Kangaroo image credits: Getty Images
Filed under: footy, gold coast titans, jarryd hayne, john cartwright, manly sea eagles, scott prince | Tags: Posted by Sassy
Wanna know what this post is about? IT’S ALL. ABOUT. GEORGE. ROSE.
Hi George! If you read this, feel free to stop by Errol HQ and we will give you Errol snuggles.
Ok, so there may be some other things later on. For instance, if you follow us on twitter you’ll know we all went to the Dragons game on Sunday at Kogarah, so I should probably write about Jarryd Hayne being a freak of nature, and what he has in common with Beyonce (hint: it’s not a big arse).
This photo needs more George Rose.
But mainly, it’s about George Rose. A few weeks ago the Errol girls hit up Brookvale Oval with our american besties Jay and Suellen to watch Manly thrash the Titans. They are huuuge NFL and college football fans, and all around great humans, so we thought they would enjoy an authentic Aussie league experience. … They totally did. Their faces basically lit up when Igor the Eagle came out to dance on the field and I reenacted told them the story of him beating down a heckler who invaded the field. Go Igor go! Bet you don’t get that in college football, hmmmm?
But the best thing about our trip to the Northern beaches was realising that everyone in the whole of Manly loves George Rose as much as we do.
God those bitches have good taste. And it’s not them. Know who agrees? The Aussie selectors.
Big Georgie Rose is in the training sqaud for the next Kangaroos tour of Europe.
And okay, maybe he’s not the most ripped man in the NRL … but what’s wrong with that? We’ve already got one Hot Bitch Cooper, right? Down with body fascism! Bottom line is everyone knows Georgie’s a dynamo. As Homer Simpson would say, George Rose you are a BIG FAT DYNAMO.
(Just quietly, that’s what Kiki calls me. Just one of the many reasons why George and I should be besties).
Meanwhile, why we were drawing up our list of Reasonz We Luv George, there were semi-finals happening. Melbourne demolished a flat Manly, the Dogs took out the Knights, and up in Queensland there was one of the most amazing games of semis footy in aaages.
Carty does not agree with that assessment.
There was Broncos magic, a massive Titans comeback, and John Cartwright barely managed not to bust out of his shirt and tie with rage like the Hulk, or (thankfully) have a stroke. WELU CARTY! PLEASE DON’T DIE BEFORE WE GIVE YOU YOUR 2009 ERROL AWARD!
Turns out Carty did verbally smack a bitch down at halftime … and get fined $10,000.00. I just hope it was as hilarious as Scotty Prince’s post-game interviews. No one is a better pissed off captain that Scott Prince. NO ONE.
Pic. Richard Gosling
Remember last year, when he accused the ref of having his Wests Tigers undies on?
Or “… you sent off their dumb forward and our smart hooker!”
Well on Sunday he stuck the boot into Darren Lockyer for milking a penalty on the field: ”Have they given out awards for the Logies this year?”
Oh, Scotty.
And on Sunday afternoon at Kogarah, Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne decided to show all the haters why he won the Dally M medal. Kittens, this is why:
FREAK. HE IS A FREAK. I mean obviously there were other reasons. Jamie Soward just wasn’t Jamie Soward. I dunno who was kicking out there, but it wasn’t our usual Tiny Dancer. The touchies filled me with rage, and the Dragons’ fifth tackle options were …. let’s just say they reminded me of the Roosters. And that’s not a good thing. THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY TIMES YOU CAN KICK THE SAME BOMB.
But not all the awesome Dragons fans could stop Jarryd-with-a-Y and his ridiculous form. Now that he’s found God, bitch is on fire. I mean, I have no idea what kind of God he’s found, but apparently he was rocking a giant set of wooden rosary beads in the locker room, so I’m gonna go with Catholic.
Even Ray Warren sounds biblical in the commentary from the game. “Look at this in delight! Look at this in wonderment!” That’s a quote straight from the gospel of Rabs.
And thanks to the hooked-up Jessica Halloran we found out that Jarryd-with-a-Y has “an on-field alter ego.”
Seriously. JUST LIKE BEYONCE.
And if Ms Halloran’s dictaphone hadn’t died, I’m pretty sure he would have kept going and told us all exactly what Beyonce said when she revealed she has an alter ego.
“I turn into Sasha. I wouldn’t like Sasha if I met her … she’s too aggressive, too strong, too sassy, too sexy! I’m not like her in real life at all. I’m not flirtatious and super-confident and fearless like her.”
Jarryd Hayne is …. SASHA FIERCE.
Filed under: anthony watmough, footy, jamie soward, jarryd hayne | Tags: Posted by Sassy
So I know some of you all may have missed the Dally Ms on Tuesday night, because … well, most probably because you had more important things to do, like googling ‘cancer’ to see if that funny feeling in your throat is deadly or listening to Faith Hill albums. WELL YOU MISSED OUT.
Didn’t you know that Events Involving Rugby League are always always worth watching? Because anything ridiculous or awkward that can happen in life will always always somehow happen to league. Don’t believe me? Well you can piss off and try and find another sport that has had an INTERNATIONAL MANHUNT in the last two years. I rest my case. It’s just … destiny. The same way that if there’s an aging bogan or an underage boy in the vicinity they will ALWAYS manage to find Kiki and me like magnets.
Luckily, Lozzy and Kiki came over to mine to watch the spectacular with me, and I’ma recap all the important parts for you. Don’t worry, you can repay me with thankyou gropes.
Unrelated note: how beautiful is Simone Ennis? So beautiful.
So we start with super-glamorous shots of all the schmicked up footy players and their dates arriving at the State Theatre. God I love footy players in suits. It’s one of my top ten favourite things. I love the way they keep looking around uncomfortably and pulling at their collars. It’s so deliciously awkward. Kinda like when they make Serena Williams wear a formal dress to the ball after she wins a Grand Slam and it looks like she’s just been wrapped in chiffon against her will. Or watching a dog walk on its hind legs.
Apparently the theme of the ceremony this year isn’t ‘irony’, cause Greg Alexander starts the show walking up the aisle talking solemnly into the camera while some kind of Space Odyssey: 2001 orchestral music plays super loudly in the background. Bet there’s at least one guy sitting in the audience praying and thinking ARE THE DALLY MS CANCELLED? ARE THEY GONNA SCREEN STAR WARS INSTEAD?
No, my sad friend. What they are gonna do is get an orchestra to play while we watch slo-mo league highlights. Because nothing says ‘league’ like an orchestra. Right? Personally, I was hoping for interpretive dance. Everyone loves interpretive dance.
So then Laurie Daley and Warren Smith get on stage and Warren’s got this crazy Napro Livecolour Just for Men shiny maroon hair for some reason and they’re bantering like it’s the Loz & Waz comedy hour and Lozzy is just sitting on the couch looking at me like ‘what the fuck? You got me over here to watch this?’. I feel like any second they’re gonna tell me to enjoy the rest of my cruise and try the prawn cocktail.
I totally freak out when they read out the Rookie of the Year nominations because, well, they’re Dan Dan Mortimer, Josh Dugan, Jarrod Croker, and Jamal Idris. Lozzy takes the piss out of me mercilessly after I actually wail ‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I LOVE THEM ALL’. Apparently in my mind I decide the awards. Crokes’ skunk striped black and white hair from last week is all just dark brown now … did David Furner make him dye it? I’m guessing yes.
Jamal takes it out and ambles up to get his award, lookin all sharp in his giant suit. Apparently he wears his hair out for formal occasions. Pigtails are only for sporting activities. We all lose our shit because … well because he’s Jamal. WHAT’S NOT TO LOVE? HE’S AMAZING. HE’S DOING HIS HSC AND HE HAS A MOUSTACHE. You don’t see that every day.
He also tells us that he chose league over javelin cause “you get to hit people, and you can get hit. It’s more fun hey.” I’m gonna put it out there that there would be a much bigger audience for javelin if you could hit people. It would be so … Roman gladiator. As if you wouldn’t tune in if there was a chance of a competitor getting a well-placed javelin through the thigh. It would be CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.
The Polar Bear and his lady. Pic. Gregg Porteous
What was my point? Oh yes, next Ben Hannant wins the front rower of the year award and looks all happy and chuffed about it. It’s adorable. Good for you Benny! Even though he’s a Queenslander he’s impossible to hate. I think it’s the lovely blond hair. That and the fact that they call him a polar bear (that totally won Lozzy over. If there’s anything she loves more than a larger man, it’s an animal reference … preferably a LolCat). Needless to say Lozzy is now all over Ben Hannant’s swagger.
I have this sneaking suspicion that the Dally M peeps were all happy when they realised Hannant won this award … cause dammit if he didn’t deserve it. Not only did he get outed on national television by the commentators for having the runs, he was also the first player in the NRL to get SWINE FLU. Sucks to be Ben Hannant in 2009.
Just quietly – how totally and completely rugby league is it that players got swine flu? Seriously, is there any other sport in the world that had to have players quarantined for swine flu? OF COURSE THERE ISN’T. Because ridiculous shit like Swine Flu quarantine scandals only happens in league. Shit like international manhunts, and players having to be taken off the field with the runs, and naked hotel corridor scandals, and that time Billy Idol’s mike didn’t work. It’s one of the things we love most about it.
We seriously called it about four weeks before it happened that at least one NRL player would get swine flu. Not any other Australian sport … just league. We were so convinced that on the morning when the news broke Lozzy and I literally ran in and jumped on a sleeping Kiki yelling WE KNEW IT. BEN HANNANT HAS SWINE FLUUUUUUU. Best alarm clock ever, right?
Next up Anthony Watmough takes out second rower and the Errol gallery loses their damn minds. I have no idea when it happened, but at some point in 2009 we all became complete Watmough freaks. Just absolute bandits for some Watmough. TEAM WATMOUGH! *high kick* Maybe it’s because he’s always lovely and polite to us/remembers what we do/gives us awesome career advice? Who can say. It might also be because of the way he carved up the Queenslanders in game three of State of Origin this year. Either way, we all squeal with joy.
Plus, he looks seriously dashing. Points to Watmough for the best suit and best tie of the night. Who would’ve thought a forward would win that award? Amazing. He also jokes that he plays well just so he doesn’t piss off Des Hasler, and that makes us happy because we kinda suspect it’s the truth. Des can be a terrifying, terrifying man.
Warren Smith tries to introduce David Gallop to give a speech and …. um, has anyone seen DG? Anyone? He’s, wait, he’s on the way? On the way from where? Is he peeing? Is he drunk in the corridor like Kiki suspects he is?
[I imagined him clutching a bottle of whiskey, sobbing and refusing to go on stage. I CAN'T DO IT...DON'T MAKE ME DO IT! - K]
Bet they’ve never lost the head of the AFL at the Brownlows … oh, league. You are so special.
About twenty minutes later someone finds DG and shunts him up on the stage to give the Most Ironic Speech Ever:
“We’ve seen our players do extraordinary things this year … “
Nate Myles I believe this is directed at you!
“… and they deliver so consistently.”
This one’s for the Roosters, right? They have been bloody consistent this season. In a lot of ways.
We get some crowd shots of Jamie Soward looking completely furious and about to give up on life and/or start a shooting rampage. Possibly because there’s no booze. That’s right, this year the players have been squished into little seats at the State Theater. No moving, no food and no booze. It’s like the awards equivalent of being grounded for bad behaviour. This is not surprising. Even winning TWO awards doesn’t help.
Have you ever seen a happier man? Unlikely. *cough*
Nathan Hindmarsh and Fui Fui Moi Moi are all tucked in their little seats next to each other like dates. They make a lovely couple. Hornbag’s skin looks lovely and glowy. The Mozzies look like the cutest twins in cute-town, as always. Brett Kimmorley’s broken cheekbone is tres upsetting and has given him a crazy-zombie-red-eye. If I was him, I would’ve worn a nifty little formal eyepatch. Maybe one with spangles on it. Like Gabrielle!
We’re getting closer to the big announcement, when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd struts out on stage. Of course he does. Of course K.Rudd has nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than attend the Dally M Awards. God knows he wouldn’t be fine-tuning the proposed ETS. He’d much rather be drinking beer shirtless with Billy Slater or presenting footy awards. I love our country so much sometimes, and this is one of those times.
Pic. Brett Costello
The camera gives us a shot of Kurt Gidley, who for reasons we haven’t quite figured out, is wearing an amazing shiny metallic grey suit. He’s either planning on a trip to the moon later, or has built some kind of time machine for a trip back to Studio 54 circa 1981. I like it.
We take bets on who’s gonna win the thing, and – more importantly – on when Tiny Dancer Sowie is gonna blow. My guess is that he’ll leap up, punch Brandy and run for the exit within the next five minutes.
Straight after this, I am not exaggerating, the BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN happens on the tv. I shit you not. Someone who is apparently from ‘Australia’s got Talent’ gets up on stage and starts singing the Josh Groban song ‘You Raise me Up’. Then …. I also shit you not, they start showing slow motion footage of footy players out in the community doing various good works. It doesn’t sound that good, so far, right? Well that’s because I haven’t told you that part of the footage is of Shane Shackleton leaping on a jumping castle for deadset thirty seconds. With children. In slow motion.
THIS:
PLUS THIS:
= HILARITY.
If you haven’t seen the Love Shack leaping in slow motion on a giant inflatable jhumping castle set to pop-opera, well then, my friends, you haven’t lived. I lost. my. damn. mind.
Finally, after the shortest, dryest, booze-free awards ceremony ever, the winner is ….. *drumroll* … JARRYD HAYNE.
Kiki and Lozzy yell out AT LEAST IT’S NOT THURSTON. And it’s true. It makes our sky blue hearts happy that a NSW player won it. If Queensland won anything else this year we would’ve exploded with rage.
Hayne decides to totally tug on my heartstrings by kissing his mum on the shoulder (HIS MUM IS HIS DATE. CUTE) then telling the whole of Australia “I feel like crying”.
Crying from happiness, I presume. After all, he’s just won the Dally M player of the year … and he made it through the whole of the 2009 season without getting shot at. That’s pretty sweet.
I’m so touched that I don’t even correct his grammar when he says “it blew my mind away. I’m so gracious I went on that tour [with Fiji]“.
He poses with the rest of the Dally M team of the year – including Michael Ennis holding his award like a giant penis – and in true rugby league style, the ceremony ends with a giant explosion of confetti that scares the absolute shit out of Jarryd Hayne. He leaps about two feet and almost chokes himself with his medal. It’s amazing.
Pic. Steve Christo
It could only be more league if the confetti had somehow poked the Dally M player of the year in the eye and/or given him swine flu. Don’t you think?
Till next year kittens x
Filed under: america fuck yeah, footy, gold coast titans, kevin gordon, st george dragons | Tags: Posted by Kiki
HI BITCHES! Did you miss me? I know you did. You know who missed me more than anyone in the whole wide world? The bloody Dragons. You realise their form took a nosedive as soon as I left the country right? The little fuckers. This isn’t the first time either. In 2006 when I went to the States they lost every game while I was away, then started winning when I returned. And this time they did EXACTLY THE SAME THING.
The past 2 and a half weeks I couldn’t even enjoy my break. No no. I was deadset flooded with communication from home concerning the Dragons. Either it was St George fans begging me to come home, fans of other teams delighting in the Dragons misery (fuck all y’all!!) or my mother ringing saying things like ‘darling….I have some bad news’.
Anyway, we returned home last Friday and whaddyaknow, those tricksy little buggers found their form again and kicked some blue and yellow ass. They were all scorching attack, flawless hard hitting defence and OH HI B.MOZ GOT 3 TRIES! I was torn between being completely over joyed, horrifically jetlagged and being annoyed at them punishing me for going on holidays. Emotional manipulation! Disgrace!
Intern John John jumped into his spangly hotpants and checked the Errol mailbox on Monday morning and found a card my boys sent me. MINOR PREMIERS WHUT WHUUUUT! I adore the love hearts, that was Hot Bitch Cooper’s touch wasn’t it? He is a design genius. All is forgiven my darlings.
Obviously I am absolutely thrilled with the Minor Premiership and could not be prouder of my babies. I am also rather excited that in my absence Dell has embraced his disco aura and is growing a fierce fro and sideburns combination. Amazing.
So anyway, our trip was amazing and we love the Jacksonville Axemen even more than before. Put it this way, there were goodbye tears. And hugs. And wailing. We will be writing some posts on them soon, including lots of awesome photos that we snapped. We had the most epic time and the boys, along with their staff and fans, are some of the greatest people we have ever met….so stay tuned for that.
In other vitally important Kiki/Errol newz, today I won a a guessing competition on Twitter. Who cares, you say? Oh no, this shit is lolz x 1000. For those who don’t know, Mat Rogers has a Twitter. AND IT IS AMAZING.
Today he posted this photo and asked his followers to guess who it was. The winner would receive a signed Titans poster.
I took one look and thought I KNOW THOSE NIPPLES…IT’S KEVIN GORDON! And what do you know…I WON THE COMPETITION. Aaaaaah lolol. I was alone at home on my lappie and when Mat tweeted at us to let us know I was the winner, I seriously laughed out loud and clapped like an idiot. I am such a loser.
So apparently the poster is on the way to Errol HQ and I could not be happier. Not because we get a signed Titans poster, but because my intense perviness has finally paid off.
PS- Seriously how ripped is K.Flash? Thrusssst.
PPS – Never fear kittens, the Errol Awards ARE on for 2009…just a bit delayed. We have new categories and everything. Coming soon!
