Kittens, apologies. Why did it take us more than 24 hours to post about the Legends of Origin match in Parramatta on Thursday night?

WE HAD A LOT OF SHIT TO DO. God.

It took us at least 2.5 hours to build our life-size shrine to Sam Backo … not to mention the multiple trips we had to make to Eastgardens shopping centre to procure enough newspaper and clag so we could make enough papier mache so we could replicate his glorious gut.

We also enrolled Intern Lachie in a summer school electronics course at TAFE. If all goes according to plan, in four to six weeks the papier mache Sam Backo will be able to automatically wipe his own gut with a towel JUST LIKE THE REAL SAM BACKO DID AT HALFTIME. Have you ever seen a greater sight than him in the locker room? We half expected him to pull out a turkey leg and munch away. What an amazing human.

Needless to say the concept of the Legends of Origin game turned out to be more amazing than we even dreamed. We both had actual goosebumps for most of the game.

Before we watched it, we thought Mark Geyer was heaps smart n shit for coming up with it, and that it was a brilliant cause and needed to be supported.

After we watched it, we had to have cold showers and a short sit down. All our childhood heroes in one place! Someone hold us while we swoon!

Gary Belcher, that old swaggering dreamboat! Remember when we made Andy Raymond tell Gary Belcher we thought he was a hot old man? And he took a photo in the Foxsports commentary box just to make us shut the hell up?

Well now we know that Badge isn’t just a Handsome Older Man, he’s still got some footwork on the field too. Kiki’s more obsessed than ever.

Although truthfully? That bitch has nothing on Cliffy Lyons setting up a brilliant try. Feet! Hands! Speed! Skill! Moustache! He’s incredible enough that we can’t even make sentences.

Gorden Tallis, Brett Hodgson-throwing champion and dancer extraordinaire. Crank up Flo Rida’s ‘Low’ and the man is like the rugby league version of Paul Mercurio in Strictly Ballroom. If Paul Mercurio was a giant indigenous league player with a penchant for hip hop music.

And in a blues jersey once again, Steelers legend Rod Wishart. WISHART! The man with the glass bones! A man who looks pretty much EXACTLY the same now as when he retired.

Facing up against Robbie O’Davis, who looks at least 8,000 times more shredded than he did when he played football. That bitch is like a human batman suit! You could shred cabbage on those nips. Abs. Whatever.

Consequently, Sassy has now been on a health and fitness plan for a full 48 hours, inspired by Robbie ‘the Machine’ O’Davis. He’s like an anatomy diagram. She figures if a footy player with a broken nose and probably impaired breathing to go with it can be that ripped, then she can at least be the kind of person who doesn’t live entirely on vodka, carbs and cheese.

It’s the same kind of attitude that made her start up a new fake-tanning regime when she saw that Shaun ‘Pinkman’ Kenny-Dowall now has a summer tan. She’s determined like that.

But mainly, the reason we took so long to say anything was cause we were recovering from the swoon-worthy sight of Freddy Fittler and Ryan Girdler together, on a footy field, in Blues jerseys.

Does Freddy know where he is? Of course not. He’s just thinking about eating a muffin.

Remember when Freddy won the Chooks the premiership? Remember when Girds had a flowing mane of black hair and scored 32 points to kick Queensland’s arse in origin? Remember when we didn’t hate ourselves? Remember when NSW was good at Origin?

REMEMBER WHEN RYAN GIRLDER DID A ‘THEIR HOUSE’ SEGMENT WITH FREDDY AND IT WAS THE GREATEST TELEVISION MOMENT YOU’VE EVER SEEN?

Fast forward straight to 5:46 and enjoy. So good. So very, very good.

To this day, whenever we see a kitchen counter, we still pretend to walk down stairs and say ‘let’s go down to the cellar’ … ‘there is no cellar!’ like Freddy.

Let’s talk about the fact Jason Smith used the half time break to…wait for it…SMOKE A CIGARETTE. We have picture proof!

Wow…..just wow.

Also, before we put this blog up, we had to go find ‘Tony Trim’ on facebook and like the hell out of him.

Trimster? You’re our new hero.

He paid $12,000 bucks to wear a blues jersey, ran out on the field, took a chip from Freddy and SCORED FOR NSW. And in case that wasn’t awesome enough, he tried to start biff with Gorden Tallis.

Marry us, Trimster? Or if you won’t do that, at least come play for NSW at Origin time. Not kidding. Seriously. We need you. You can have Kurt Gidley’s spot.

As for you, MG? What a pussycat. We could not love you more. Never ever change.

PS – The excitement of this game was such that we tweeted like mad women, people replied over and over again and low and behold….WE WERE THE NUMBER ONE TRENDING TOPIC IN AUSTRALIA! We trended over the Australian Open. Remember this day people, this is as famous as we will ever be.

We don’t mean to offend you if you’re not massive fans of Australia Day, but we love us a public holiday whichever way it comes. We also all feel unbelievably lucky that somehow we got to grow up in the place called Oz (and not just because it’s the home of NRL).

Now we’re sure you’re all classy dudes, so you’re probably not out taunting recent immigrants and getting racist tatts. Instead, we hope you’ll spend your day doing something uniquely oz.

Walk hungover to the corner shop with no shirt on. Buy an orange juice.

Watch cricket on the couch in wet swimmers.

Complain about the heat but refuse to turn on the air con on. Lie in front of a fan instead.

Improvise! In the grand tradition of Aussie ingenuity, build a shelter for your beachside barbecue from towels.

Related note: one of our favourite stories about World War 2 is that, when the rats of Tobruk were under-funded, under-trained and under-supplied, and had to fight against Germans with tanks … what did they do? Tied guns to the backs of trucks, of course. DIY tanks!

Draw a dirty word on someone with zinc.

Lovingly call someone the same race as you a racial insult.

Usethe phrase “that’s faaaarcked”.

Go to the movies and watch something American and full of explosions.

Listen to the Triple J hottest 100 and complain about Aussie hip hop.

Wear a watermelon hat to the Big Day Out and have it confiscated.

Make a beer snake at the cricket and have it confiscated.

Get violently sunburnt.

Buy sausages in a packet that doesn’t specify what kind of meat is inside.

Buy organic lamb and rosemary gluten-free sausages for $29 and serve with fetta salad.

Squeeze your adult body into a children’s wading pool.

Eat yum cha.

And in the words of Errol Flynn: “remember, when Australians fight, they fight for keeps”.

Love,

Kiki, Sassy and Lozzy.

Hi friends. Well, what a bloody sad time it’s been the last few days huh? In a matter of days, things have changed. Everything has changed. Not just for the people that are directly affected by the floods, but hopefully for everyone. I say ‘hopefully’ because I think it’s an important lesson for people to realise everything can be swept away in an instant. And that all the material shit we obsess over is, in reality, pretty bloody meaningless.

As you guys know, I travelled with the PM’s XIII to PNG in September last year. It was truly life changing. Shook me to my core even. I haven’t written about it on Errol yet, as I want to wait till my Very Serious and Meaningful Article about it comes out in the new issue of RLP. I’ll post it up here, then blog about some of the funnier stuff didn’t make it in the article.

I’m bringing up PNG because to be frank, they have nothing. The level of poverty over there is far beyond anything I imagined. Everything for them is….hard. Nothing is abundant, or easy to get. A lot of them are going hungry. I remember going to the supermarket a week after I got home and found myself fighting back tears in the fruit and veg section. It’s a simple thing, going food shopping, but we rarely take a step back and realise how special it is.

We take for granted the fact we can pop up to Coles or Woolies and grab whatever we want, without a second thought. The shelves are always stocked with fresh, ripe, beautiful food. All shiny and yummy and completely affordable. It’s a constant, something we can rely on.

I’m on holidays at the Gold Coast and this arvo I went to Coles to buy food for dinner. Once again I found myself feeling strange emotions amongst the fruit and veg section. What fruit and veg there is left, that is. I’m almost 30 and for the first time in my life, I was faced with empty shelves. Nothing but rows and rows of black plastic. So I can’t make a salad for dinner, big deal. But it represents a change, an unsettling shift and a stark reality. Sometimes, everything isn’t gonna be okay. The ‘sure things’ can turn to shit over night and nothing is certain.

But one thing is certain, Australians are bloody good in a crisis. And we always keep our sense of humour, no matter how dark the days have become. The above photo of King Wally ready to go under was splashed all over the news and Twitter AND RIGHTLY SO. That shit is awesome. I am beyond proud watching how Aussies have mobilised to help the people of Queensland. The defence force, emergency workers, the SES, the volunteers, everyone online…it’s just incredible.

Just to put it into perspective, in terms of the land affected this is bigger than Hurricane Katrina. WAY BIGGER. Remember the response over there? Days upon days of authorities infighting, people left to fend for themselves, riots and National Guard being given shoot to kill orders, endless fucking up of rescue missions. Not to mention that post levy breaking, people were dropping dead from lack of food and water. In the most powerful nation on earth. And 5 years later, New Orleans is still a mess.

I’m not saying this to make a political statement. It’s yet another thing we take for granted, that when disaster strikes, there is a contingency plan and it will be carried out, no matter how daunting. As a woman trying to make it in a male dominated industry, I cannot tell you how downright fucking awesome it’s been for me to turn on the TV and see Anna Bligh front and centre. She’s been strong, in control and compassionate. Everything you want in a leader in times like this.

Not to mention Jules Gillard rocking it out for the sisterhood. I’ve also loved Channel 9′s coverage, because they’ve let the ladies be in charge and they have been AMAZING. They didn’t do the predictable and ship in a bunch of men to Take Charge In A Crisis, they let the girls do their jobs and they’ve done them well. I now may or may not have a giant girl crush on Allison Langdon.

It’s easy to be Australian when things are good. That’s easy. And fun. It ain’t easy when the harshness of the land turns around and fucks you over. This can be a brutal country. But it’s times like this when the true character of a people is revealed.

The point of my blabbering? Be grateful bitches. Hell, go all out and start a gratitude journal. Look around you right now, look at what you have. Think about what’s really important. Feel the sunshine on your skin, the sand between your toes and the chill of a beer bottle against your fingers. Breathe in. Wake up every morning and feel blessed that you were born in this country.

Read this poem. Listen to this song . Watch this video (2:45 = goosebumps).

Like everyone, we feel helpless. We want to make a difference, but do it in our own way. We’ve come up with an awesome little concept to raise money, look out for it next week.

Love you babies xx

You will all be SHOCKED to know that the Errol girls weren’t invited to any marquees for Melbourne Cup this year. No Birdcage, no Emirates VIP section, no Myer tent. Nothing. We were invited to the Maroubra Bay Hotel for their special day via SMS, but were sadly unable to attend. Apparently Rob ‘Millsy’ Mills is good enough for Flemington but we aren’t. And that pretty much sums up our lives.

Luckily, we … um, well we kind of don’t like the races. We want to like the races: all the mental images of gorgeous men in grey morning suits buying you champagne and sitting on white wrought iron furniture, maybe horrifying some of the more traditional and genteel folk by wearing a skirt above the knee.

Our eternal thanks to the Daily Telegraph and their intrepid photographers for bringing this photo to the world.

But the reality … not quite so charming. It’s all bogans in flammable suits and Oakleys and walking spray tans getting their heels wedged in the grass. Why would we overpay to go to the races in the middle of the day when we could just get pissed with bogans at the greyhound races, after dark, on solid cement ground, wearing whatever we want?

It makes no sense! It’s nonsense!

We do have one thing to thank the horse races for: they invited the Australian Kangaroos to the drawing of the barriers and it was the few moments in the whole of this four nations tournament to make us smile (apart from Bodene Thompson in general, rrrrawr).

If you can look at Cameron Smith playing a horse-riding video game and not laugh, then you may well be dead inside.

Isn’t it sweet that, since he never actually made it as a jockey, they let Billy Slater hold the fancy-schmancy number hats? HE LOOKS SO HAPPY.

Although, on second thoughts, it’s possible that it doesn’t take much at all to make Billy Slater happy. He also looks happy while crushing England’s spirits:

Catching footballs:

AND playing water polo like a joyful spaniel:

In fact, the only thing he doesn’t look happy doing is practising his Broadway high kicks. This is not a surprise, because high kicks are serious goddamn business. You mess that up? Someone loses an eye. YOU WANNA END UP WEARING AN EYE-PATCH, KIDS? DO YA?

Wait, what was my point? I got all distracted doing a kick-ball-change holding an imaginary tophat.

I think it was that the Four Nations game between the Kangas and England was straight up depressing, despite Tom Learoyd-Lahrs sporting a hilarious 90s Backstreet Boy-esque moustache. And it wasn’t just because of rain-related fumbles or the completely INSANE video ref decisions, or even the fact that we all knew Australia was going to smash it in. This poor little English backs had nothin’ against the Australians.

(Wonder if England ever stops and despairs that every time they invent a sport and export it to the colonies, the colonials end up being better at it.)

It’s just not fun seeing Australia play that far below their best. It’s not a spectacle, is it? There was a decided lack of magic. And Luke Lewis played out of his skin but that doesn’t help us now he’s injured. All we have left is Fierce Bitch Cooper Cronk, who also got some shit done on Sunday night.

ALL HAIL HIS FIERCENESS.

And if you’re feeling a little tipsy, tired, or just plain blue, we would like to recommend you head over to the England Rugby League site and watch their video summary of the four nations team hosting a skills and drill day for schoolkids in Eden Park in New Zealand.

Tony Clubb saying “I’m still young” when he is clearly 45 in human years? Every man and his dog making fun of Luke Robinson for being tiny like a tiny teddy? Sam Burgess getting squirted in the ear with water by what I’m 99% sure is Robbie Farah? IT’S CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.

Now bring on Australia vs New Zealand. Team Kiwi!

All Kangaroos pics: Getty Images

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)

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

Right on, ladies.

Oscars time!  Oscars time!  I know lots of you probably hate the Oscars, and think they’re loathsome and boring and last for a good five hours too long, but I care not.  I love them.  I love seeing glorified tv starlets in poor dress choices.  I love seeing all of Rachel Zoe’s clients wear amazing hotstuff outfits and gigantic obnoxious cocktail rings that People magazine totally doesn’t get.  I love that the Oscars will invite Disney’s Zac Efron to present an award and perform on stage, but still refuse to invite Paris Hilton.  She must fucking hate that.

(Needless to say, it makes perfect sense to us that Zef would be invited to the Oscars, because the High School Musical series is some of the greatest cinema in human history.  But most of the world over the age of 15 don’t really seem to get that.  It saddens us. We can only hope that the release of Seventeen Again will open their eyes.)

But most of all, I love it this year because Hugh Jackman is hosting.  Not just because he is – quite clearly – a hot bitch, but have you ever heard a bad word about Senor Jackman?  Of course you haven’t.  He gives me faith that perfect men Do Exist. All I need now is some sort of cosmic indication that perfect men Do Exist and Also Fancy Girls Who Write About Footy And Often Don’t Wear Pants.  ONE DAY!  I BELIEVE!

Know who else rocked a turtleneck? Errol Flynn on the Sirocco. True story.

Even Hugh’s (heterosexual) writers for the Oscars are in mad gay love with him.

The only proof that we really were writing for the Oscars is that Jackman would visit our room for a couple of hours each day. To my surprise, the best kind of boss is a sexy boss. Jackman greeted each of us with a giant hug, which would have been a perfect test of how gay I am, except I was totally focused on making sure I wasn’t crushed to death by his giant lats. So … pretty gay.

Jackman would laugh uproariously at everything we suggested, which is one of the huge advantages of writing for a noncomedian. He acted out all our stuff, belted out our songs while standing on furniture and even watched most of Be Kind Rewind with us for no good reason. He was so omniscient in his niceness that not only did he look sad when we played him the Christian Bale freak-out tape, but he also, after agreeing to record a parody of it, called Bale to make sure it was cool if we put it online.

He even let me try on the real, $18,000 plastic Wolverine claws, which made me want to do a bit about the moon and body hair; the reaction made me realize I probably should have seen an X-Men movie before writing for Jackman.

To summarise … he’s pretty much Jesus.  Jesus with really really amazing lats. And fuck it, let’s just be honest: I’m in mad gay love with him too.

Jesus was a carpenter, so he probably wore chesty bonds.

Sometimes I wonder whether the Errol girls are, in fact, just really spangly gay men trapped in women’s bodies. It would certainly explain why we so often end up kissing shirtless gay boys outside the Stonewall [That's just you two. The gays don't seem to adore me that much. One day I'll win them over. One day - lozzy]. It would also explain why, when I saw Hugh singing the finale of the Boy from Oz while glitter rained down on me from the theatre roof, my first thought was ‘I think this is what heaven looks like’.

Although hopefully in heaven they have found some way to avoid getting glitter rain caught in your cleavage because that was a bitch to get out.

If you’re wondering, by some crazy coincidence, ‘the best kind of boss is a sexy boss‘ is also the motto of Errol HQ.  Before he went home for the holidays, Intern Danny Wicks even cross-stitched it for us on a mint green background surrounded by flowers and gave it to us as a Christmas pressie.  He’s so sweet sometimes.

As for things that aren’t Hugh Jackman, Kiki and I have already talked about the other stuff in store at the Oscars over at http://fox.com.au. Go! Read! Comment!

And then watch Hugh getting ready for the Oscars:

SUP ARMS.

Postscript:  Kiki is under the impression that I made this whole post purely as an excuse to google pictures of Hugh Jackman.  This is patently untrue.  Not least because I google pics of Hugh Jackman anyway.  In fact, I made this post as an excuse to tell you all that when Hugh Jackman was renting a house in Paddington with the fam, he totally pimped out his kids as an excuse to knock on his lesbian neighbours’ door and ask to use their pool.  Like he was all … oh hay, sorry to annoy you, but can my kids possibly use the pool?  Then once the kids had gone back to the States he rocked up anyway all sheepish and … so the kids were kind of a ruse.  Can I use your pool anyway? HE JUST REALLY LIKES SWIMMING POOLS. Plus, that’s what kids are for, right?

The time has come for us to say something about the horrific bushfires in Victoria. But, what can I say? Who has the right words for this sort of disaster? It defies description. I certainly don’t want to revel in the tragedy the way the commercial media has been. I don’t know what makes me feel sicker, the unimaginable loss of life or the way the media is clearly revelling in it.

But let’s leave that for another time. Right now we need to concentrate on helping the poor buggers caught up in this. Humans and animals alike. The entire Errol team is donating to as many of these causes as we can, and we hope you do the same. We know no one has much money to spare right now, but every little bit helps darlings. Please, be as generous as you can.

Here’s a list to help you out -

Red Cross Australia – so far they have raised over 26 million dollars from both private and corporate donations. The Red Cross has always been both organised and trustworthy in times of crisis and this time is no different.

Cricket Australia – In conjunction with the Commonwealth Bank and Channel 9, Cricket Australia has set up an appeal which has the Commonwealth Bank donating $100 for every run scored and $5,000 for six hit during the Adelaide game.

Cricket Australia have also donated $100,00 and South Australian Cricket $25,000. All the players from both teams have donated their match fees to the appeal. You know we love our cricket and we are super proud the cricketing community has banded together to make a difference.

Wildlife Victoria- It’s easy to look at the thousands of hectares of burnt out bushland and only see the human tragedy, but don’t forget countless numbers of native animals have lost their homes too. That’s if they even managed to escape in the first place.

Donate to Wildlife Victoria and they will do as much as they can to help the poor little things survive.

RSPCA Victoria- The RSPCA is one of the most worthwhile organisations you can donate to in the best of times, and now they have organised some special services to help all the animals caught up in this crisis.

With your money RSPCA Victoria will medically treat bushfire affected animals including dogs, cats, wildlife and livestock, help find emergency accomodation for displaced animals and reunite families with their lost pets.

Coles- Please do all your weekend grocery shopping at Coles this Friday. They are planning on donating all profits to Red Cross Australia.

Well there you have it kids. We can’t change what’s happened but we can help those in need. Go forth and donate!

Nova 96.9 – For Sydneysiders, the Red Cross/Nova/Linfox are working together on a blanket drive. You can drop off any blankets you wish to donate at:

- Nova 969 reception: Level 5, 33 Saunders St, Pyrmont, 8am – 6pm Weekdays

- Linfox Depot: GSK Warehouse, 1 Decker Place, Huntingwood (at rear of building) between 8am and 3pm on weekdays

(pic from www.ntnews.com.au)

Yes yes I know.  I am a bit late with my comments on the second Australia-New Zealand test.  Yes, the Aussies have won the Trans-Tasman Trophy … by an innings and 62 runs.  Yes, it’s a little sad. I think it even moved Daniel Vettori to swear, which I found tres shocking.

Mainly this is because … have you seen Daniel Vettori?  I feel fairly strongly that the kind of man who won’t even wear contacts when he plays sport is not the man to react badly to losing, no matter how green his team of Kiwi battlers were.

 

Pic: Getty Images

And if you are wondering, that was very green.  And very battlers.  Me speak English good.  If you read our blog over on Triple M about tantric cricket … well draw your own conclusions.  I’m much too much of a lady to spell it out for you.

This test was about a whole different four-letter word: L-O-V-E. Remember the bad patch in Brett Lee and Ricky Ponting’s marriage? How they kept telling you Mummy and Daddy aren’t yelling, they’re just talking about Adult Things?

Well, babies, the counselling worked. Brett starting making an effort again with his appearance and laid off the cake, and Ricky picked up his game and brought back all those little romantic surprises that keep a relationship fresh, like a bunch of flowers on a random Tuesday or a night on the tiles even though he hates dancing.

Just putting in a bit of effort, you know? Taking a catch once in a while. Helping out around the house, so to speak.

Binga totally appreciates it, you can tell:

[Lee] was helped, too, by the lack of fight shown by the New Zealand batsmen with the exception of the pugnacious Brendon McCullum and by a screamer of a slips catch from Ponting to remove opener Jamie How.

“That was the best catch I have seen live,” Lee said. “I actually thought it was past when he stuck his hand out. He couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t believe it, and it goes down as one of the all-time great catches.”

THE ROMANCE IS BACK.

Even Errol’s favourite inflatable fielder Andrew Symonds is in on the love. What’s a pub drama or two between teammates?

And in tribute to our Aussie team, here’s a little Peaches & Herb from the Errol girls:

Reunited and it feels so goooooood.

Australian team Pics: Sebastian Costanzo

Pic: Steve Christo

The Rugby League World Cup is officially over. The final’s been decided.  The boys are all back home either being lauded by the public or eating Easy Mac n Cheese to ease their disappointment.  You can decide for yourselves who is doing what.

They’ve given out the trophy and all the participation certificates for the players’ mums to put on the fridge.  Almost time to put on your Peter Wynn’s Rugby League pyjamas and go into footy hibernation for the summer.  But first, one more r-l-w-c wrap-up.  I warn you in advance that this one is going to be weird.  I feel weird already.  It’s not even the usual feeling funny in my pants, which is pretty much my default state and I’ve kinda gotten used to it.

For one thing: Australia Didn’t Win.  The almost-unbackable favourites, the World Cup juggernauts, the team you love to hate … lost.

zomg I know! I can’t believe it either, eh!

Believe me kittens, I was as shocked as you were.  Shocked and overjoyed. Just like Benji Marshall. I said last week I didn’t know who to cheer for, but after seeing the victorious Kiwis leap around like overjoyed schoolchildren I realise I was totally TEAM KIWI the whole time.

Pic: Steve Christo

My head said it didn’t know, but my heart was painted black and white for this game.  What can I say?  I think some part of me just loves seeing an underdog succeed.

I also love that the Kiwis celebrate by drinking beer shirtless. THAT’S HOW I CELEBRATE TOO! It’s why they won’t let me have my birthday in public venues anymore.

Is it possible that I also just enjoy seeing Queenslanders look disappointed?  WELL MAYBE.  AND IS THAT SO WRONG? It probably is, but whatever.

Clearly it’s not completely abnormal to take pleasure from other people’s misery.  If it was, the Germans wouldn’t have bothered to make up a word for it, would they?  Hmmmmm?

And in case the whole 34-20 New Zealand win wasn’t surprising enough for you, I actually have stuff to say about FOOTBALL today.  For serious.  Not just about their hair (well maybe a little bit), or their uniforms, but stuff about what the boys do with the ball (heh, ball).   Let’s get started before I sober up and change my mind.

FREE BILLY!

So I think we all know I’m not Billy Slater’s biggest cheerleader.  I have said less than flattering things about him in the past for a variety of reasons, including but not limited to:

a) Accusing Flossy Nightingale of headbutting him;

b) Playing for the Storm (booo, hisssss);

and,

c) Being a dirty Queenslander.

Also, sometimes I just irrationally dislike public sporting figures.  Obviously Billy, like Roger Federer and Karmichael Hunt, has never done anything to me personally. Everyone tells me he is the Loveliest Man Ever and they are probably right. Nonetheless, I Decided to dislike him for no particular reason. It’s my way.

But Billy is getting a bitch of a rap in the media at the moment, and I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.  Clearly my love of truth outweighs any silly Slater vendetta.  I’m pretty much Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men.

Except, you know, without the stuff that came afterwards, like the booster shoes and the Scientology and the child-bride.

You see, according to the Herald, a “Billy Slater moment of madness” cost Australia the World Cup.

They mean, of course, that Slater threw a blind pass in from the sideline trying to run the ball back upfield, and it fell into the loving arms of Benji Marshall for a try.  Benji’d been loitering around to Billy’s left instead of jumping back to defend against the oncoming Aussies … and I don’t know whether that makes Benji Marshall an excellent reader of the play, or just a bit out of shape and too tired to get back in defence, but either way it all ended badly.

And yes, it was a really stupid pass.  If I had more energy I would have been frustrated to the point of heartbreak watching it, like I was when Jarryd ‘Baby’ Hayne did the same thing in Origin.  NOOO BABY HAYNE, NOOOOO!

I totally just had a flashback then and bumped my head on the desk. That game was horrifying.

But you know what?  That’s just Billy Slater doin what Billy Slater does, isn’t it?

…oh, he’s just bein’ Billy.*
Pic: Steve Christo

My theory is that if you want a safety-times conservatively-programmed early-days Darren Lockyer kinda fullback, you don’t pick Billy Slater.

Bitch is … a risk-taker.  Some people might say ‘a showpony’, but that’s not really it. More like some fullbacks do predictable things … and Billy Slater doesn’t. He sets up ridiculous and amazing plays out of pretty much nothing. He likes it. And it seems like he likes dramatical individual plays more than anything.

Yes, he does things that might turn into massive fuck-ups, but most of the time they work.  (This, of course, is also part of the reason I can’t stand him. Damn you Queenslanders for being so good!)

So basically most of the time the people (cept the Oh Errol kids) love him. For every other game in the tournament, it has been a full-on Billy Slater soggy sao love-in.  BILLY THE KID! FASTEST GUN IN THE WEST! BEST FULLBACK IN THE WORLD!

Bitches couldn’t get enough of him.  Maybe that imagery was a little bit crude.  But whatever.  You know what I mean.  Everyone was all over Billy Slater and It was really fucking annoying.

But now as soon as he gives away a try he’s reckless Billy the Kid who can’t defend and doesn’t deserve to be in the team.  I might believe y’all about that if he hadn’t just received the player of the tournament award.  Clearly no one thought he was doing so badly in all the other games the Aussies played.

He also got unfairly labelled Billy the Choker who can’t step up in big games (cf the Storm losing the Grand Final). And I would believe y’all about this if he didn’t set up two tries in the first half. It takes a whole team to win/lose a gf, right?

Basically – I CALL BULLSHIT.  Yeah he made one mistake, but bitch didn’t single-handedly lose the game. You can’t be all over him then change your mind all of a sudden. It’s only cute when I am irrational and change my mind and go from loving to hating a footy player in a matter of hours.  Like the way I’m now defending Billy Slater. DON’T YOU MESS WITH HIM, OK? I GOTS HIS BACK.

And that’s all I have to say about that.  I feel all queasy.  I CAN’T BELIEVE I STUCK UP FOR BILLY SLATER.  Someone get the Dettol bath ready cause I need one … stat.

THERE’S NO ‘BLAME THE RANGA’ IN ‘TEAM’

Since I’m already busting Billy Slater out of media jail today, I’ve decided I’m takin’ Joel Mongahan with me.  WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS BLAME THE RANGA?

Pic: Steve Christo

Ok, um, what exactly did Monas do wrong?  He got a bad bounce, decided to go the professional foul, and the Kiwis got a penalty try.  As opposed to … Hohaia just scoring the try? Which, incidentally, it totally looks like he would have, at least if you ask me and the video ref.

Call me crazy but I don’t see the difference. Maybe he moved the conversion to the center for an easier shot at the extra 2 points but two points weren’t gonna save the Kangaroos.  In the end I think it comes down to lackluster defence. Lackluster defence from the Australian team, who seemed that way from the start of the game.  Just kind of … surprised by how the NZ team played and on the whole pretty unfocussed.  And every try the Kiwis scored chipped away at that a bit more, not just the ones that Monaghan or Slater were ‘responsible’ for.

It also seems vaguely arrogant when people try and pin the loss on one individual Aussie, as though the Kiwi’s couldn’t have won it, the Aussies had to lose.  The Kiwis  had so much passion, those kids deserved it.

And didn’t those bitches have hustle?  Right up the middle of the field where the Aussies weren’t expecting it.  I like to think they foxed the first snorefest of a game against Australia just so they could build up to this.  I believe Wayne Bennett would be that crafty.

But whatevs. I think I’ve ranted enough.  Let’s just say for both sides there’s a reason they call it a team sport.  Also, the New Zealanders gave 110%, and took it one play at a time, and the best side won on the day.  Or something.

Let’s also say to Ricky Stuart and his conspiracy theories just no.  Really, honey, no.  Let it go.  There is a chapter in my etiquette book about losing World Cup finals and it specifically recommends against suggesting that there was a conspiracy against you.  For reals.

And to Billy and Joel: if you’re feelin down, call me.  Let’s go to the pub and you two can drown your sorrows and get blind and wave your fruity cocktails in the air for emphasis as you slur ‘THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW ME. THOSHE BITCHES DON’T KNOWWW ME.’

… AND NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT HAIR

It’ll be quick. I promise. All I really have to say is that Dave Williams is taking this ‘Wolfman’ image really, really seriously. Like woah. As in, I suspect someone has been watching X-Men and grooming their mutton chops to look like Hugh Jackman’s.  And all that volume in the back of the hair … so Wolvy.  Get it?  WOLVERINE?  You know it’s true.

Camera one … are you getting this?

Don’t worry Dave. Secretly, sometimes, we all pretend we’re movie stars.

What, so I’m not on mark? A little to the right you say?

Like sometimes I prance around the house when no one’s home imagining I’m Dolly Parton in the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.  True story.

And with that completely random confession, it’s goodbye World Cup.  See ya in four years, bitches.

* Just by the way, if you were a Miley Cyrus fan you would find that HILARIOUS.