Following Work Experience Boy Lachie’s journey out to spy on the Sea Eagles last week, returning  with some beautiful shots of the boy’s preparing for this weekend’s performance of Garbo Get Your Gun…I mean My Fair Garbo…DAMMIT I MEAN THE NRL FINALS, we thought we’d send him out on another excursion to see what’s what during Grand Final week.

So Monday morn’ Lachie turned up with Mama Coote-signed permission slip and Curious George lunchbox in hand, and we sent him off to do our bidding. And not just the Manly boys this time, no siree bob. We made like Bill Paxton and went after The Storm.

First of all, it should be known that the Manly lot were auctioning off a place in their team photo. Unfortunately the auction also came with a Sea Eagles jersey, shorts and socks:

The highest bidder will receive a Sea Eagles Jersey, Shorts and Socks to wear in the photo and keep as a memento of the occasion as well as a framed copy of the photo.

This is a truly amazing opportunity that you will treasure for ever.

Yes, they were asking fans to pay to wear maroon. As enticing as lying across the boys knees with my head resting in Davey’s lap sounds (I don’t mean that the way it sounds, I swear)…not in that getup, ok thanks.

Judging from the piccies Lachie brought home, the Sea Eagles photo day was much like every single one I endured throughout my schooling ie. lots of lining up and height organisation, which Matt Orford should be pretty upset about:

Aw youse big kids crack me up

AWWW Matty! I understand. I was ALWAYS the shortest kid in the class and got stuck in the front row, even when I purposely wore the wrong shoes to avoid it. Except in Year 11 when the dickheads put me right up the top with all the tall kids and I had to stand on my tip toes AND STILL LOOKED LIKE A MIDGET. Orford doesn’t actually look too concerned though – I guess a Dally M medal overrides any height neuroses.

Des Hasler does not find this buffoonery amusing.

By the way, Sassy would like to know if that is bird poo in Ballin’s hair in the above pic. Surely birds don’t poo on a GOD OF FOOTBALL? DON’T THEY KNOW WHO HE IS? Perhaps the bird in question was a rabid Daniel Conn fan and is v unimpressed with the result.

ZOMG Daniel Conn I’m your biggest fan. Sign my wing?

Speaking of hair, Davey’s award-nominated locks were enjoying the sun very much.

I like to think he personally suggested an outdoors shoot specifically so his natural blonde highlights would be emphasised, in an attempt to score a few more points in the race for Best Hair in League. BUT I JUST LOOK BETTER AMONGST NATURE GUYZ. We see right through you David (it’s kind of working though just quietly).

Whilst the Sea Eagles were gallivanting around/not amusing Des Hasler (by the way, you just KNOW the token ‘does the finger in the class photo’ guy was Watmough), over at Globo Gym the cyborgs players were rounded up, programmed to their ‘human emotion’ setting and produced this:

Hmm, I don’t think that’s quite convincing enough for us to believe they have souls. Apparently Bellamy didn’t think so either and upped the boys Humaniser2000 program to maximum:

Do Not Be Fooled. Proceed With Caution. They may look like they’re having fun but IT’S A FRONT PEOPLE. THEY’RE STILL DEAD BEHIND THE EYES.

Just look at this:

How unhappy is that dog? It’s utterly ashamed to be seen with Go Storm on it’s back. S/he can sense the evil.

Sea Eagles pics: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Storm pics: Quinn Rooney/Getty Images

I am not a woman of particular principles. Due to my continual stories of inappropriate behaviour you may have guessed this already, but let my explain it further. Fear not, I am a lady and always keep my undies on thankyouverymuch, and I would never steal, drink drive or deliberately hurt somebody … but I am definitely not a person who makes Sensible Decisions. Therefore I don’t tend to get all moralistic on your ass, because really … I’ve probably done/said the same thing. And much worse.

I keep my moral outrage pretty much contained to one area of my life … and unsuprisingly, that is football. I will never judge you bearing illegtimate children/drug taking/being an ex-con or even wearing stilettos with shorts. Okay thats a lie I will TOTALLY judge you for bad outfit choices. However my point still stands. Essentially, I am not a judgemental person. However, I will completely and utterly judge you for being a fan of teams I Hate. And these are the Broncos, the Sharks and of course the ever hateful Storm. Ditto for the players. BOOO! HISSSS!

note: not my actual hand

So herein lies my Moral Dilemma. Naturally, no team could ever replace my beloved Dragons, but I don’t want to opt out of finals fever simply because my babies didn’t make the cut. I guess I coulda chosen the Chookies in solidarity with Sassy and Marlo, but to be honest I just don’t give a shit about them. SOZ GUYS.

At first I thought I was firmly on Team Manly (due to my Beaver love), but those crafty bitches from New Zealand have snuck up and stolen my heart.  I is so confuuuused. Anyway, as I said last week, basically I am on Team-Anyone-That-Isn’t-The- Storm. All good, I thought. Oh, I was wrooooong.

This meant I had to not only stop hating, but actively CHEER for the Broncos. Oh my sweet jesus, this was really freaking hard. I felt so conflicted. When Darius Boyd scored I was even more conflicted coz I kept imagining him (allegedly) doing naughty bizness in toilets. And then seeing him in the pristine Red V next year. ARGH. Even worse was watching Sam Thaiday coz I love that fat hairy bitch. Surely a man who hands out carnations for mothers day couldn’t be involved in (alleged) yucky times? Sureeely? I’m gonna start The Sam Thaiday Innocence Project. I will be like a law student from Wisconsin working my preppy ass off to get wrongfully accused death row inmates out of jail. I hope they make a doco and put me on the Crime and Investigation Channel. That would be awes.

note: not actually Kiki

It was big time moral dilemmas. Everytime Brisbane would score I would leap to feet and yell YESSSS GO BRONCOS. OH GOD WHAT? GO BRONCOS? ARGH EW! YAY! NO SO;DFJKLIFJKLFJ!!! *combusts* As if that wasn’t bad enough this weekend I have to….oh god, can you guys smell something? It’s like…fake tan mixed with xenophobia. With just a hint of surburban nouveau riche. It smells like….Cronulla.

That’s right, this weekend I have to cheer the bloody Sharks. As a Dragons fan this is pretty much The Worst Thing Ever but really, it has to be done. It’s a matter of principle. Is this how Roosevelt and Churchill felt when they realised they had to ally with Stalin? Banding together to defeat the bigger evil?

(For those of you who are historically inept – those are the WW2 Allied leaders. The democratic USA and England had to ally with the communist Russia to defeat Nazi Germany. GET IT PEOPLE? THE STORM! THEY ARE EVIL.I really wish I didn’t have to explain my historical lolz, but after years of making History Jokes that no one gets I’ve realised not everyone is as massively nerdy as me. Unfortunately.)

Anyway, this shit makes me feel DIRTY. And not in the Kiki gets blind and pashes an shaggy haired 18 year old at the Brighton Bar sort of way. It’s in a bad way. If you find me naked in a Dettol bath scrubbing myself with a steel wool and muttering I’ll never be clean again…must…get…clean…don’t be suprised.

Lets move on to nicer things. You know who is Nice? Davey Williams! We loves him. Apparently the Herald does too. Today they wrote a whole article about him! Good for you Davey. They describe him as being “94kg of tightly packed muscle”. I would make a joke about wanting Dave to ‘tightly pack’ one of my muscles, but I won’t. Because I’m a lady.

I do however object to two things in this article.

ONE- they call him ‘The Wolfman’. GODAMNIT PEOPLE. HE IS NOT THE WOLFMAN. Everyone knows he is The Hot Pioneer. He rides horses, chops wood and looks sexy times in long johns. He doesn’t do…well…whatever it is wolf men do.

David wished Kiera would stop making yucky jokes about his wood

Listen to me carefully media peeps - just because Dave has a beard doesn’t make him a wolf man. This is why they need us on TV/writing articles/being generally omnipresent. If you look carefully (and god knows we have, repeatedly) he is actually quite hairless. You know who is a real wolfman? CAMERON BLOODY SMITH. That bitch quite clearly shaves everyday but still has a stubble shadow.

TWO- they have totally emasculated him with their captioning. Dave probably posed for this thinking, yeh bitches, I’m totes tough and awesome and a WINGER IN A TOP 4 TEAM. I am a MAN! YESSSSS!

Then they go and caption it “Size doesn’t matter….Manly’s David Williams”

I’m dead. DEAD! I am outraged on Daves behalf. For godsakes sub-editors, he’s already having trouble. He announced on the Footy Show this evening that he is ‘basically celibate, but not by choice.’

Times are dire for Davey’s pants. At this evenings Gods Of Football presentation he totally went the pash on Matt Ballin. He’s like…girls, boys…I don’t even care! For the love of god will someone just PLEASE TOUCH ME DOWN THERE!

He really is living on Toey Island because tonight, in an blatant attempt to get laid, he wore the tightest shirt known to mankind.

David, that’s totally your school shirt from Year 10 and don’t you even try to tell me any different. WHORE!

Anyway, in case you’re wondering, Bal took out this years Leagues Sexiest Sexy Man. Or Godliest Godly God of Football or something. That competition is fucking confusing. We have christened him GI Ballin due to his miltary!like!efficiency! and carved in granite hotness. Bitch totally carries it off.

Hello hot eyebrow scar! My vajayjay is saluting as we speak.

And finally, because we are all about the Warriors at the moment, I thought I would include some Steve Price. Okay that’s clearly bullshit. I just wanted an excuse to post this -

Holy old man hotness! That photo is suprising yet … arousing. Shit, I feel dirty again. Lachie, fetch me the Dettol!

PS – I know I’ve photoshopped Dave + another man + love hearts two weeks in a row but it isn’t my fault. If he stopped doing homoerotic things then I wouldn’t have to. SEE WHAT YOU MAKE ME DO DAVID?

(caps from our fave blog, Steve Price from the lovely kingfish at fmforums)

Judging by his awesome efforts the other day, it seems our little Lachie is turning into quite the photographer. And with Cameron ‘Lindy Chamberlain’ Smith and Sonny Bill Feelings dominating the papers we thought maybe it’s also a good time to get the focus back on … you know, footy.

Semi-finals week is finally here and we are all tres excited.  Only two teams we dislike left in the competition!  Wheee!

This weekend the Bearded Warriors take on the Sea Eagles, and yes, we will be there at the footy stadium, cheering on … well cheering on everyone.  We kinda love Manly and the Warriors, to be honest.  We are just that full of love.  Like Mother Theresa.  Or Jesus.

And with the recent run of Warriors form we are not at all certain who will take it out.  That’s why we sent little Lachie over the spit bridge to try and find out what’s happening in Camp Hasler and see if he can help us all out with our tips.

Looking over the negatives this morning, we realised Dessie, as always, is doing something secret and tricksy and Dessish. That’s why his hair is so big. It’s full of secrets.

I’ve heard it said that when your team has a week off during finals, with no game to fire them up, it’s easy for training to taper off in intensity, and the training routine to start to seem dull. Not for Dessie’s boys.

David ‘Hot Garbo’ Williams and Steve ‘high-pants’ Bell were sent to join the Dee Why garbos on their morning run before yesterday’s session. Lifting bins for strength work, chasing the truck for cardio, enduring the stench for team bonding. Unconventional and brilliant. And don’t the bitches look sharp in their council-issue vests? Sure it’s a little 2006 electro, but you can’t deny Des knows his fashionz.

Anthony Watmough was keen to work on his strength, so went the tried and tested Venice Beach route (midriff top and all) and spent the morning on weights.

Lookin sharp Watmough!

And the Beav. Oh Beaver, either you’re in the Dessy bad books or you drew the short straw. No one deserves to be sent to play over 30s mixed netball. I can’t decide whether that expression translates as ‘*$#%# netball’ or ‘eh? what is this contraption? I’m too old for this kind of malarky. Suyin, where are my stewed prunes?’

I’m gonna go with the second one. Because I don’t think the Beaver would swear. However, I do apparently think he talks like an elderly Jewish man now. WHATEVER.

GI Matt Ballin didn’t get sent anywhere, because quite simply, bitch didn’t need to. GI Ballin is trained to perform. SOLDIERS DON’T GET DISTRACTED, SIR! I LOVE TRAINING, SIR! PLEASE, SIR, CAN I HAVE SOME MORE?

… and we wish we could bring you some updates on Brett ‘the Snake’ Stewart, but sadly it seems he got lost mid-afternoon and never made it to training at all. If Mama Stewart is reading he’s currently at Register 3 Coles Manly waiting to be collected. He says his name is Brett, he is five, and he lives in a blue house in Sydney, the world, the universe.

Happy gambling!

All pics: Getty Images

Because you are all truly invested in my well being, lets begin with a Health Update! And god knows theres nothing more exciting than people talking about their health woes. CAN YOU HANDLE THE EXCITEMENT?

Thankfully, turns out I don’t have Ebola. So no Ben Hornby style bleeding from the eyes for me. It turns out I was vomming blood because I have…wait for it…an ulcerated eosphagus.  You know in cop shows theres always that one old crusty detective that’s all drinking coffee/booze/eating hotdogs and is all ’GODAMNIT! we have to solve this murder! I don’t have time for this ulcer shit!’. THAT’S ME! I am now literally a withered old wino. I’m feeling like death warmed up and have been schlepping around the office sooking up a storm. Intern John-John just hates to see people sad, so today he waltzed in wearing this outfit to cheer me up.

He’s so thoughtful! If sunflower nipple pasties can’t cheer a person up, what can? By the way, he doesn’t like us to talk about it, but John-John regularly visits hospital wards dressed like this to bring happiness and goodwill to sickypants people. Sadly occupational health and safety laws require him to wear pants, but he powers on regardless.

(by the way, he keeps grabbing me and saying ‘Look Kiki no hands..balloon goes up! balloon goes down…balloon goes up! BALLOON GOES UPPPP!’. How is he making it move like that? Mystery!)

My doctor alleges its all due to my love of booze and subsequent hungover Nurofen Plus taking but clearly he has no idea. I know whats up. Google tells me another cause of this condition is stress. You know what REALLY caused my tummy tube problem? THE BLOODY DRAGONS.

Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Have I ever had stress related health problems in the off season? I think not! I have made many a joke about my boys giving me a stroke or a heart attack but now those inconsistent bitches have gone and literally ULCERATED MY INSIDES. Needless to say I am not a happy chicken after their weekend efforts. Not only did we publicly tip them on the radio two weeks in a row but they also killed me in the soul with their absolute lack of form. They embarassed me both personally AND professionally. No wonder I’m bleeding internally.

To be honest I don’t want to talk about the actual football. Except THAT WAS SO A TRY. You know it was. I watched the game at Sassy’s house. When I say ‘watched’ I mean curled up in the fetal position on the lounge peeking at the horror through my hands. I had never noticed just how physical my reactions to my team are until Sassy helpfully pointed out…KIKI! THE DRAGONS MAKE YOU GO FETAL! YOU’VE GONE FETAL SWEETIE! And it’s true. They kill me.

Thankfully, although the Dragons couldn’t seem to muster much of a performance…Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper came through with a performance all his own. A fine performance in the arse…I mean arts. He musta known I was crying sad sad tears, because he just busted out some of his best arse work to date. Don’t squish squish Kiki, look…look how pretty my bum is!

I’m looking Coops! Awww it’s LOVELY! Thanks baby, thanks. But that wasn’t enough for Hot Bitch…at one point he even SMILED for me!

Oh wait no…that’s just his usual grimace of deep seated unfulfillment. Damn.

I was a little worried about this game. Worried in the sense of ‘will I have mixed feelings because I do kinda like Manly?’. Well no, as soon as the whistle blew all I could see was red and white. Manly who? SMASH EM BOYS. But then Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale and Our Davey Williams had some sort of horrific ingoal collision and managed to both injure themselves and I cared about someone in Maroon again. In our minds they are part of the Errol family and here was not one but two of our boys writhing in pain. SHIT! Get the jaws of life! THIS IS BAD KIKI, THIS IS VERY VERY BAD shrieked Sassy. OH GOD I KNOW, yelled I. Thanks only to our fervent prayers to the Baby Jesus, our mans emerged from the trauma relatively unscathed.

Despite his awesome/slightly disturbing howling at the moon try, The Hot Pioneer well…he had some no-no times. He even caused Dessie to yell MOTHERFUCKER at one point. He really did, I saw it. My lip reading skills are exemplary.

David immediately regretted his decision to groom his beard during play

Don’t worry Davey, we still love you. You know who else loves you? MATTHEW JOHNS. We thought our obsession with you was bordering on creepy, but Matty’s takes the cake. The Crush Cake! Or is that the Mancrush Cake? Mmmmm…cake.

That bitch can barely contain his delight whenever Davey is on camera. Sassy called it ages ago, and as usual ERROL IS ALWAYS RIGHT. We thought our thrusting at the TV was bad, but on Saturday night Matty showed us how Creepy is really done. In the aftermath of the Howling @ The Moon Try, Matty moaned into his microphone -

“Oooooh and hes howling at the mooooon! AND HIS HAIR IS PERFECT! Rabs forget your man Steve Matai, Williams is MY MAAAAAAN!”

Ummmmm. Well…..well, I have no words. So lets use pictures instead.

(Note – Pls look at Davey returning the love with an arse slap. Whore! I knew I liked him for a reason. We are kindred spirits Y/N?)

In a yucky week for league, I feel it’s necessary to not only remind myself, but everyone else…that there is still heart warming awesomeness in league. And it’s no suprise it’s coming from Snuggliest Man Nominee, Prince Scotty the Caramel. There is a backstory to these photos, but really who cares? The important thing is…Scott Prince is in a tutu. I LOVE HIM.

goldcoast.com.au

Gosh, he’s pretty.

EDIT – One of our lovely fans, Bel, has alerted me to yet another example of league awesomeness. I think this even out does Scotty in tulle.

Illawarra Mecury

AMAZING. What can one even say about this? It’s awesomness almost transcends words.

But if you’re wondering, yes that is Jason Ryles dressed as Dell. And Big Dell inexplicably dressed as an angel. Two things…a) apparently blackface is still an acceptable form of dress up in Australia and b) doesn’t Big Dell fill out those white jocks well?

Well that’s it kittens. The very last time I can write about the Dragons for 2008. Needless to say I am now very much on Team Manly for the rest of the finals. Team Manly and Team Anyone-that-isn’t-the-Storm.

(Screencaps thanks to Lozzy, naked John-John from Naked For a Cause)

I’m sure you’ve all been on the edge of your seats, eagerly waiting in antici…pation for more words from the mouths of footy babes (and I obviously don’t use that word in the “Jonathon Taylor Thomas is suuuuch a babe” way. I never could get on the JTT lovetrain btw). So here I am, the Newest Manly Fan, serving up observations on a game that, first of all, I had to watch online after John John ‘accidentally’ locked the Foxtel to Adults Only. Poor Lachie got the shock of his life when he tuned in for Meerkat Manor on Monday morn. Luckily we were still up drinking awake early enough to calm him down and read Where Did I Come From? from cover to cover.

And after all that the internets wouldn’t let me watch the second half, so not only am I a footy retard (but a FAST LEARNING and ENTHUSIASTIC retard, thank you), I’m also going on half a game here. It kind of reminds me of that scene in Nine Months where they go to see the obstetrician, but there’s a Russian Robin Williams filling in who can barely speak English and specialises in primates. I am the Russian Monkey Obstetrician of footy posts.

But that’s ok, because there’s only a few things we need to talk about.

The boys went all Where’s Wally on us

Apparently this was in honour of Steve ‘Beaver’ Menzies last home game, the red & white sockies representing his junior club. Because I saw the pics before the game, I was not aware of this. I just thought they were trying new fashionz. And I approve! They all looked so charming. Stripey socks add so much to the heinous predominantly maroon uniform. Someone organise for stripey socks to be warn at all times, toot sweet. Tee hee, toot.

The Hot Pioneer broke a face

We always knew Our Davey’s beard was luxurious – now we know it’s also made of STEEL. Or at least his chin is. There was BLOOD guys. And Dave was completely unharmed! He clearly has the best face protection system evs.

If I was slightly more insane, I’d say I almost sensed a hint of evil from the beard and that if it had hands, they would’ve been rubbing together with glee after that effort. The Beard Has Two Faces, for reals. It’s kind of like when you see a puppy and you’re all ‘awww who’s a cutie?’, next thing it’s attached to your Tencel jeans trying to bite through their silky soft 90′s goodness for a juicy chunk of skin. Honest to god, I haven’t pet a random dog in the street since. Unfort it didn’t stop me from wearing Tencel jeans for at least 4 more years.

Anyway, Davey’s face is lovely AND dangerous. A guy like youuu, should wear a warniiiiing.

Steve brought his lady and bb out

I’m sure ovaries and hearts all over the stadium exploded. And upon seeing these pics, YES EVEN MINE. God, you think you’ve whipped them into passivity and then this happens.

pics: SGT at ManlySeaEagles.com

I’m rather concerned about how the boys will go once Steve leaves to be honest. I mean that in terms of their emotional states and not, you know, their game playing. Who’s Matt Ballin gonna carpool with now? What if once Beaver is no longer part of the Manly clubhouse furniture it’s just like in Wet Hot American Summer where they all become smackies within like, an hour (I like to relate pretty much everything in real life to movies and tv, just by the way)? How will Des use the silent treatment on THAT shit?

Fiiiiight!

Well, at least we know the boys can hold their own should they end up on frequenting crack dens:

pic: SGT at ManlySeaEagles.com

pic: Craig Golding/LeagueHQ.com.au

I didn’t actually SEE this because it was in the second half, but I suspect it had something to do with the Oh Errol Awards. Guys, enough with the infighting. There’s enough of us to go around, k? Unfortunately not enough awards, but there’s always next year. If you build it, we will come (shut up John John).

So there you have it – belated In Depth coverage of a Monday game, on Friday. If there’s something Really Important that I’m missing, or you just want to tell me off for saying absolutely nothing about football, then leave a comment yo.

edit: wow, um, I can’t believe I didn’t mention that MANLY WON. Worst. fan. ever.

No fancy explanations needed here, surely.  This week we’re giving you the run down on the nominees for the Des Hasler award for best hair in league.

Some boys in league have deadset shocking hair.  Most have almost no hair, which saddens my heart.  What can I say? I just kinda love a man with a good head of hair. It might have something to do with my childhood crush on John Bender. 

These boys have Good Hair.  Enough said.

NATHAN HINDMARSH

pic: Phil Hearne / www.leaguehq.com.au

Truthfully, we have long been admirers of Hindy’s special brand of bedhead.  And if he wasn’t so completely peverse and determined to try and counteract his natural awesomeness, he would win the Des Hasler with his eyes closed every year.  But apparently Nathan enjoys looking like Julius Caesar, or being ridiculed in the street, or Just Plain Hates getting awards, because the number of fucking terrible haircuts he has given himself is staggering.

Consider, if you will:  on the left, we have Hindy au natural, letting the hair run free.  On the right, freshly-shorn Hindy.

I understand if you actually have never thought about this before, because usually when Hindy is on the field he has half his arse hanging out of his shorts and that tends to divert attention from his head somewhat, but DO YOU SEE?  DO YOU SEE HOW HE TRIES TO UNDO HIS OWN AWESOME?  Sigh.

He’s busy being a Cueball when he could be Russell Hammond:

If he can just manage not to pick up the scissors in the next few weeks, Nathan could have this award in the bag.

MATTHEW BELL 

pic: Getty Images

Matthew Bell is another occasional sufferer of Hindmarsh Syndrome.  Naturally blessed with an amazing head of voluminous hair, the perfect wave, and natural blond highlights, just a few weeks ago he broke our collective hearts with a particularly unfortunate trip to the barber.  I think it has a … fringe.

If that thing doesn’t grow out in the next few weeks he doesn’t have a chance.  Genetics can only get you so far, Matty baby.

DAINE LAURIE

pic: Getty Images

This was always going to happen.  From the moment he bitchslapped his way into our hearts, Daine Laurie was always going to be nominated for something.  Sure he’s a little fiesty, but he’s also FABULOUS.  Look at those dreadlocks fly! 

RUBEN WIKI

pic: Getty Images

The Warriors efforts this Beardgust have made Ruben Wiki’s facial hair famous, but don’t let it distract you from that adorable mop o curly hair.  Ruben has a touch of the Soul Glo … and we like it.

DAVID WILLIAMS

Davey honey, did you think we had forgotten you?  Not a chance.  Oh Errol Patron Saint Davey Williams has been a gun in the hair stakes all year.  We’re not even talking about the gold-prospecting beard, although god knows we love that too. 

*strokes Davey’s beard*

That is some fuck-off lustrous hair.  Amazing.  Bitch may be a worthy heir to Dessy himself.  It makes you have to fight the urge to plait barley into it and lay in the California sun playing Mamas and Papas songs and drinking Sangria.

What was my point?  Oh yes.  We are all in love with his liony mane.

Provided Intern Brownie doesn’t get to all the boys with his clippers before the end of the season, it is shaping up as a close race for the coveted Des Hasler.

KITTENS!  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?  THE NIGHT FINALLY CAME.  The Steven ‘Beaver’ Menzies Tribute Dinner.   A night that is Notable and Important if for no other reason than because opportunities as good as this for embarassing yourself in a spectacular fashion in front of favourite sportsmen or celebrities don’t come along very often and a bitch has to take advantage of them when they do.

And if Kiki’s blog didn’t fully explain how excited we were to ask the Beav for a hug (we did, and he obliged), I think I can sum it up by saying this: our girl Kiki was early.  

[Sitting by yourself all dolled up in a hotel lobby = hello I'm a prostitute! You guys couldnt get there soon enough - K]

I would also like to point out my mammoth effort to be there: I actually wore makeup and proper shoes.  HIGH HEELS, EVEN.  I HOPE YOU APPRECIATED IT BEAVER.  If that didn’t mean more to him than all the accolades from Arko and Gus then I wash my hands of him.

And when we trotted on into the dinner – a few shampoos under our belts for courage and fancy handbags under our arms (something about a Beaver dinner just said MONGRAMMED DIOR to us, you know?) – we weren’t disappointed.  Beaver!  Lyons!  Toovey!  Eagles Angels! Gouldy! Mini cheesecake! Free Beaver books!

Excuse me if I have to sit down for a moment.  I’m a tad overexcited.  Free stuff gets me that way.  (You know they say thriftiness is next to godliness.  Or something).

And I know how eager you have all been for updates, so shall we walk through it in point form?  We can pretend each one is one of the free CDs John Hopoate took home for his kids.  Score for the Hopoate family!

* First, I have to ask some Very Important Questions.

The singing.  This doesn’t happen very often, but I was kinda speechless for a moment when a live singer was ushered onto the stage to sing the national anthem.  Is this normal?  Really?  To have to stand up in your suits and cocktail dresses and sing for two minutes before you’re allowed to get your seafood entree?  Is it cause it’s a FOOTBALL dinner?  You have to sing the anthem as though you’re at a game? 

If there’s anything more awkward than that I have NO IDEA what it is.

On the other hand, I am ALL FOR the auction prizes.  One of which was a silver headgear.  Oh yes, a cast of the Beaver’s headgear in antique silver.  I am dead.  Dead from laughter.  If I had that I think my life would be complete.  I’d charge $5 a pop for people to come and see my antique silver footy headgear.  That kinda thing goes right into the pool room.

* We also have a few thanks to make:

To the crowd in general for kindly not lynching me or our BFF and newly-appointed Errol publicist Marlo when they found out we are Roosters supporters.  So welcoming!  WELU MANLY!

To Reg Reagan, for passing on the name of his VB suit tailor to me.  I am all over that idea.  And I have no doubt my employers will be all over me turning up in a red and green logoed pencil skirt suit.  Faaabulous, non?

To Anthony Watmough, for not clocking any of us when we announced to him that he had a TERRIBLE game last week.  We mean it with love.  

To David Williams, for not placing restraining orders on us when we explained to him in great detail that his brother is our oft-naked intern and we have made him our patron saint (complete with enthusiastic re-enactment of patron saint woodchopping pose).  Oh no, we’re not creepy at alllll. 

We would like to thank Dave for the numerous hugs also.  Bitch gives good cuddle.

[Also for letting me stroke his beard while I purred like a kitten - K]

* Apology notes of the e-variety go to:

Matt Ballin: we ill-advisedly pointed out to him that he is a lucky nominee this year for an Errol for hottest bitch in league.  Poor little kitten.  He was baffled, and slightly scared.  I could see in his eyes that he just really wanted Steven to hurry the fuck up so they could grab the car and head home (they carpooled! I am dead!)  Imagine if we’d spilled that he also personal trains us all, complete with excessive hamstring stretching.   He may have had a stroke.

Matty Johns: you looked terrified of us, but fear not.  We’re not court-order creep-into-your-house-while-you-sleep skin-suit crazy (we’re far too lazy for anything like that).  We’re just your garden variety drunken eccentrics who enjoy accosting strangers.  No need to spend any money on upping your personal security details just yet darlin.

[The Beav - Sorry for not only giving you an Errol card and yelling I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH YOU SINCE I WAS 14 then nuzzling your shoulder, but then coming back repeatedly to make sure you still had the card in your pocket. And making you show me before I would leave you alone. Sorry x 1000 - K]

Aww Kizzy.  I think if you can do that to anyone, surely it’s the beav?

* We also want to send some love to our most favouritest people of the night:

De Bortoli.  Naturally.  That was some heartwarming sparkling wine.  I am certain I drank more than my $250 dollars’ worth.  And the mild headache today is totally worth it.  I had a bacon and egg roll and it fixed me right up.

Cliff Lyons – still rocking that mo.  Why fix what ain’t broken?

Suyin - as if she wasn’t fabulous enough in her tasselled minidress, she interrupted Beaver’s heartfelt speech thanking her “… for six years of happiness” with “IT WAS SEVEN!” from the crowd.  Needless to say, we’re a little bit in love.  Also with Wendy Harmer.

And Alex ‘Big Al’ Ma, who completely won our hearts.  Surely he is the most dedicated Manly supporter a girl could ever meet - he never even misses an away game.  Not even in Auckland.  Going to New Zealand for a team you love?  Might as well chop off a leg!

What a legend.  Also hilarious and adorable.  We’re not surprised though, to be honest big Al.  Not now we’ve met your parents – who are equally fabulous (hi Al’s mum and dad!)

I especially enjoyed the look on your mama’s face when she asked if we were footy players girlfriends and we answered in unison GOOD GOD NO.

We don’t shag footy players!  We just mock them on the internets thankyouverymuch!

* Fear not, we didn’t disappoint in the embarassing stakes either, kiddies.  How could you think we ever would?  We are always vaguely drunk and inappropriate.  We like to think it’s part of our charm.  Eh, it helps us sleep at night.

Kiki fell on the forgiving Suyin in a spectacular fashion - exposing the mammoth ladder up the back of her stockings – then pleaded sobriety.  IT WAS THE SHOES!  No one ever believes that.  

[ It was godamnit!! I'm not used to wearing heels! I also told her I'm so glad the Beav didn't marry some heinous gold digger and now I can rest easy knowing my hero has found himself a good woman. She seemed pleased/slightly creeped out - K] 

Craig Hancock ruffled my fro and announced to probably every former Manly great in attendance that I feel like a sheep.  Special.

I attempted to walk through a window, thinking it was a door.  Worst of all, I hadn’t even had a drink at that stage.  And because we hadn’t made sufficient spectacles of ourselves between seven and midnight, Kiki and I ended the evening with an impromptu Penny Lane dance across the shiny white floors of the Sofitel foyer. Shoeless.

We listen to the wind, to the wind of our soulssssss ….

* And last, but most certainly not least - the highlight of my entire evening.  You thought it would be the Beav, didnt you?  Well he is unparalleled in his loveliness.  He also gives great hug.  And his speech did make me cry – twice. (But then Phil Gould also made me cry.  I think Nick the Greek sitting next to me may have laughed at my weeping, and I don’t really blame him.  I just have a lot of feelings).

Tyra would not be pleased with my fierce face. NOT ENOUGH NECK!

Well the honour goes to Billy Birmingham.  Sorry Beav.  You didn’t tell us we were FIERCE, but the twelfth man seems to think we are.

He said fierce?  Yes, yes he did.  Does that mean he watches America’s Next Top Model?  I like to think yes.  I like to think he follows the time old ritual of spending Tuesday night sitting on the couch with Sushi Train takeaway and a beer painting his nails and bitching about how fabulously delusional Tyra is and which of the competitors may or may not be a man. 

Everyone does that, right?

[Billy was the highlight of my night too. He enjoyed our story about 'one time we had hot boys in our hotel room and we made them listen to Boned instead of making out'. He said THAT IS THE GREATEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD. We love you Billy! - K]

Thanks for the memories, Beav.  Kiss kiss.

First of all this isn’t so much a recap as it is a chance to peek into the mind of a Reformed Football Hater, and witness the power of Sassy and Kiki’s influence. We’ve been here before of course with Jessica’s journey, but she was much less resistant and quite easily slipped into obsession – I was a bigger challenge. I’m stubborn and stuck in my ways, I’ve always HATED sport and I have an aversion to muscly men.

Then once I had Kiki and Sassy to point things out for me and discovered bearded David Williams (btw we are apparently the go-to blog for info on ‘manly sea eagles with the beard’), it was ON. It’s kind of like how my mum refused to use a computer for years insisting that they’re unnecessary and boring, then found out how much lolz stuff there is on the Internets and now sends me texts to ‘search for Nora on YouTube’ (it’s a cat playing piano in case you’re wondering). THIS IS AMAZING! IT’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD!

So Friday night I settled in with an almost empty bottle of vodka (which I’m glad is almost empty since last time I watched something Important while drinking, I ended up not recalling the last 40 minutes of High School Musical) to watch my newly adopted bbs play Storm. I naively expected it to be kind of like last week with it’s hilar commentary on oranges and a smorgasbord of mans in the form of David Williams and Matt Ballin. I was WRONG. Well, the mans were there but the action was the brighter star. This game was FULL ON.

[Is that the pioneer breaking up a fight? That makes so much sense. I think in the colonies you really need someone with a cool head who'll keep the other boys in line when they try and punch each other up for eating someone else's serve of shepherd's pie at the dinnertable. - Sassy]

Giggle! His name sounds like animalz.

Anyway it was all so overwhelming I don’t think I can form proper paragraphs and will present the rest of my thoughtz in bullet points.

• There was a severe lack of Hot Pioneer here. Though I suspect maybe the gang at Channel 9 wanted to give us at Oh Errol a break after the unveiling of the Gods of Football pics. They’re just concerned for our wellbeing! We did however get to see Our Davey score a try in what was christened “Beaver and The Wolfman Part 2”. I love that they enjoy a running joke. Sadly no references to Enid Blyton this week though. More references to children’s literature pls boys!

• I straight up cannot STAND Billy Slater. I don’t know why, I don’t have a reason, it’s completely irrational, but I do know that my instincts are NEVER WRONG. Like how I always hated Jeremy Piven even though I’d never seen him in anything or knew much about him at all, and then he won the Emmy instead of Will Arnett in 2006. I KNEW I HATED HIM FOR A REASON. I was afraid to say this for a while in case Cooper Cronk found out and didn’t want to go on excursions to the zoo with me anymore (well he didn’t to begin with, nor does he actually know of my plans at all, but whatevs), but he’s on my Irrational Shit-List too now so it’s all ok.

• Rabs thinks Ballin has ‘blossomed’. AWWWW! It sounds like a line from the menstruation film they watch in Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret.

Coincidentally Ballin happens to make my lady flower blossom.

• My Boys almost score a try but video ref is feeling hardarsed. Gus is Not Impressed:

In related news, at this point my vodka bottle is officially empty.

• At one point Davey Williams gets picked up and absolutely SLAMMED backwards by Anthony Quinn. NOT THE CURLS! YOU LEAVE OUR FACE ALONE! I mean, his face. Right, his face.

• Someone is appalled by ‘the hide of the bloke’ regarding something Billy Slater did. I don’t actually know what it was but I CONCUR.

• Storm win. Surprise!

I’m clearly not an expert but I thought the Manly boys played a cracker of a game right to the end. Go boys go! And even though we lost and I ran out of booze, I just can’t be sad knowing they played so well. ILU MANLY! It’s also really hard to feel anything but joy while we’re still basking in the glow of our shiny new Christmas in August pressies.

Christmas in July? Pfffft. Who wants to spend a boring weekend in a Blue Mountains B&B rolling about in fake snow? No one, thats who. You know what they don’t have for Christmas in July? Hot shirtless football players.

Here at Errol we are all about Christmas in August. We celebrate Hot Man Christmas. With much fervour. Intern Brownie has helped us decorate the office with fairy lights and tinsel. He is suprisingly adept at interior design.

As usual, Intern GregBird contributed little to nothing and spent the whole time sprawled on the lounge yelling LOWER…NOW TO THE LEFT while stuffing his face with mince pies. Then I ‘accidentally’ spilt egg nogg on his leg and told the rest of the office it was jizz. Oh, how he cried.

And our new work experience boy John-John Williams has really got into the spirt by wandering about wearing nothing but a Santa hat. What can we say, he just Likes Being Naked. Who are we to object?

Anyway, last night on The Footy Show Santa delivered our presents. In the form of our favourite boys wearing not much more than a bow. Apparently we have been very very good girls this year because the hotness was staggering.

Okay, full disclosure time. We all wanted to blog about Hot Man Christmas but I was the only one who had the self control to stop humping the lounge and actually type. Because I am a nothing if not a Dedicated and Professional journalist.

Last nights segment on the new Gods of Football calendar brought two of our favourite things – hotness and lolz.

THE HOT

1) The words ‘god’ and ‘football’ cannot be spoken without mentioning Hot Bitch Cooper, and thankfully the wise calendar makers agree. I literally have no words for how these photos make me feel. So lets use maths instead.

Hot Bitch + little clothing = happy Pink V

2) I love it when Santa brings suprises. Imagine our excitement when we unwrapped Davey Williams! SQUEEEE! We really weren’t expecting that. We thought we were the only ones who appreciated his awesome Daveyness. Actually, we would like to take credit for starting the entire ‘David Williams is attractive’ movement. His appearance in the calendar is clearly directly related to us and no one will tell me any different.

As we always suspected, The Hot Pioneer is well….hot. Sassy was overwhelmed with a sudden urge to convert to Christianity after witnessing Dave bear a striking resemblance to Jesus. A sexy sexy Jesus. He even rocked a crucifixion pose. HALLELUJAH!

Oh and that smile?? Wow….just wow.

3) Another delightful suprise was the appearance of David Shillington. Rabs calls him a ‘big impressive thing’ and after seeing this footage we have to agree. We are all over that chest hair. It’s fucking great.

I’ve seen Shillo clad in only undies with my own eyes and I have to say…it is quite the sight. TEAM SHILLO!

4) The hot hooker! Matt Ballin, our very own Errol personal trainer, is flashing his perfectly toned body for the calendar. All those extra push ups have really paid off Bal. I’ll see you for our boxing session on Tuesday.

Wait is that…is he…wearing lipgloss?

5) Nathanael Barnes I have absolutely no idea who you are, but godamn you are a welcome addition under my Hot Man Christmas tree.

THE LOLZ

1) The Manly boys certainly drew the short straw in the underwear department. The cruel wardrobe mistresses decided to dress them in horrifying white boxer shorts. Baggy, voluminous WHITE boxer shorts. They look like something a grumpy nurse would dress you before you’re wheeled in for surgery.

Look at them. They KNOW they look ridiculous. Bless.

2) The Tigers are apparently Leather Gays now. Awesome.

3) And the Roosters are a 90s boy band on the set of their new video ‘Shirt Off For Love’. By the way, their second single ‘Trimmed Pubes Are For Winners’ is an absolute cracker.

4) This one needs no explanation.

Something tells me underweared horseplay in an alley isn’t entirely unusual for these two.

5) Shaun Kenny Dowall arrived on set late and was stuck with the shit undies. THOSE ARE FOR LADIES SHAUN. THEY ARE BIKINI BRIEFS.

Pink? Is that you?? I loved that President song!

But by far our favourite moment of last nite was our adorable ginger kitten Ranga Josh competing in the quiz. He promised he would flash us the peace sign as a visual shout out and HE DID! Amazing. He is now the official Oh Errol mascot. WE LOVE YOU RANGA JOSH!

Go register for your preview of the calendar here. And make sure you buy one. It’s for charity so we demand it. Happy Hot Man Christmas babies!

(Massive thanks to our all time favourite blog for all the amazing caps. We love you matey!)

We are proud, a little bit giddy and alot intoxicated to announce that this year, you have something to look forward to in the sad lull that comes between the Rugby League Grand Final in October and the supercrazypartyfuntimes intense competition of the rugby league World Cup. And isn’t that gonna be a great contest? Almost as compelling as the Commonwealth Games! Can you feel the excitement??

Anyway, that something is the 2008 Oh Errol Awards. We like to call them The Errols.

Today we will announce the nominees in all seven award categories. The lucky winners will receive their Errols at our glittering and illustrious awards ceremony in the Erskineville Bowling Club (beer on tap, food provided from the Chinese Bistro window). Hold onto your hats, bitches. Hereeeeee we go!

The Marlon Brando (the later years) Award for the Fattest Man in League

That’s right boys, this could be your future. Living as an eccentric recluse on an remote tropical island. Daily battling out-of-control bloating and the urge to wear nothing but muu-muus. Creepy companion midget is optional.

Past winners include Arthur Beetson and Daryl Brohman.

This year’s lucky nominees are: