oh errol

Everybody
Rock your body
Everybody
Rock your body right,
Kiki’s back alright!

What better way to announce my triumphant return than with Backstreet Boys lyrics? 90s pop was all sorts of awesome.

Since my arm injury has rendered it impossible to drive, I’ve barely left the house in 2 and a half weeks. Subsequently I may or may not have invented imaginary friends to keep my company. One is called George in case you’re wondering. Clearly it’s time to drag my crippled ass out in public before I descend completely into madness. The thought of facing The Cavernous Shithole with only one arm makes me want to die. I can only carry one beer at a time and theres just so many goddamn stairs! THE HORROR.

But….. my state needs me. I mean it’s a decider. The boys will surely sense that I’m not there and feel dead inside because of it. So for the sake of all that is blue and holy, I am prepared to bravely overcome my suffering and travel to Homebush to watch the game. Those bitches better appreciate it.

In honour of my pilgrimage I’ve decided to take a nostalgic look back at the Origin themed fun/trauma I’ve had over the last decade or so. Strap yourselves in kids, here we go!

(PS- yes my right arm is still broken and it is still encased in a shoulder to wrist cast. It still hurts like a bitch when I type and my cast keeps hitting the control key which is super fun. But I just NEED TO BLOG. OKAY?? GOOD)

1996 – Origin Virgins

My best non-blogging friend (Kate) and I could barely contain our excitement as we prepared ourselves to head into the Sydney Football Stadium to watch our boys in blue in person for the first time. Our 15 year old selves were clad in matching Blues jerseys, baggy Calvin Klein jeans and Doc Martens. We accessorised with NSW flags and homemade pom poms made lovingly from crepe paper. Most importantly we had covered ourselves and blue glitter and spray painted out plaited pigtails bright blue. We were lookin SHARP.

As we entered the stadium, a huge bus pulled up to the kerb. We stood transfixed as the entire NSW team disembarked. Oh my god they were HUGE! Like gods walking amongst men. Everything turned to slow motion as we watched, mouths agape. There, metres in front of us were legends like The Chief, ET and OMG LAURIE DALEY’S NOSE IS HUGE!

For a wide eyed 15 year old this was truly a special moment. No shit, to me it seemed like they were glowing. Almost ethereal. Like enormous footballing angels sent from another plane of existence. It felt like a fairytale. I asked myself… “is this what Origin is like??”

However my delusions of Origin being some sort of celestial experience were short lived. Fatty Vautin was coaching at the time and as soon as the game began the crowd started up a rousing rendition of ‘FATTY TAKES IT UP THE ARSE….DOOO DAAA…DOOO DAAAA’.

30 minutes later a lone maroon-clad Queenslander stood up, turned around and shouted obscenities at us Blues supporters. He was met with a half full beer can to the temple thrown at full speed by one of my fellow New South Welshmen. He absolutely SCONNED him.

That’s when I learnt what Origin was really about. Gay jokes and physical violence.

2003 – Tiny Tiny Perves

Up until 2003 I had been sitting with my parents in the members section. However due to my tendency to constantly get to my feet and launch impassioned verbal attacks at the Maroons my mother politely asked me to find seats elsewhere. Basically I said fuck too much and she was ashamed to be seen with me.

So where to now? Where will my obscenity laden humour be appreciated? THE CHEAP SEATS! Hooray! So off Sassy and I went to sit behind the goal posts. Able to see bugger all but at least we were surrounded by like minded people. By the way, they totally loved my hilarious calls. I was kind of their queen.

Sitting behind us was an entire row of young boys aged from about 8 to 11. Seemingly unsupervised. Awww aren’t they cute, we thought. WRONG. They turned out to be lecherous little monsters of epic proportions.

Highlights include -

* a few of them yelling SHOW US YA BOX in unison to the passing cheerleaders

* two of them continually poking our boobs with giant blow up novelty hands. When I got the shits and confiscated the hands they leaned over and said ‘fine, can we just have a feel of your boobs then?’

* the ringleader tapping me on the shoulder, handing me his mobile phone and asking ‘hey gorgeous, put your number in will ya?’ I tried to explain to him the illegal nature of us going on a date, but he seemed unperturbed.

* and in the finest moment of the night, as we were getting up to leave one of them grabs me and says ‘my stepdad thinks you’re hot…can he have ur number?’. I turn around and see a pair of mulleted bogans sitting there chuckling and waving flirtatiously at me. AMAZING.

The cheap seats were everything we’d hoped. We were home.

2004 – Wendell Likes to Watch

Due to the fact we got absolutely slaughtered before the game even started, I don’t remember much about the actual football. I think we won. I do however remember thinking it was an awesome idea to get our faces painted blue by some random lady. In the bar line we met a super enthusiastic Pommy who flies over every year to watch Origin. He rolled up his sleeved and showed us a NSW Blues TATTOO. Incredible.

I also remember us smiling and laughing during the game and a weathered old bogan turning around and announcing ‘youse have nice teeth!‘. Unlike him, we had all of ours.

Afterwards our drunken brains directed us to get on a train going to the city, even though I live in the complete opposite direction. We ended up in Kings Cross and stumbled into….*gulp*…The Empire. My memory is fuzzy but I do remember us dancing on a podium to Sir Mix-a-lot, Sassy in trackies and me in ugg boots and a blue chesty bonds. We are classy classy bitches.

We soon noticed a gaggle of whores gathering aroud some men. Moving in for the kill like great whites at a seal colony. WHORE SHARKS!

We soon realise we are in the presence of numerous footy players. Blue and Maroon. The whore sharks go into over drive, scooping up the cute ones within a few minutes. For some reason, Big Dell is there. And sadly unwanted by the whores.

I topple over to the lounge and proceed to pash a boy I just met. Soon we are both covered in shame and blue paint and out of the corner of my eye I realise….Big Dell has been watching us the entire time. Just standin there, staring straight ahead. Slowing sipping his drink watchin us two crazy kids get it on. And kind of loving it. HOLY SHIT. WENDELL SAILOR IS A VOYEUR!

Later on we met a charmingly sheltered man from the country. He ran over and grabbed us, flushed with excitement. He announces OH MY GOD I JUST TOOK A PISS NEXT TO BRETT FINCH! Oh, country boys.