Well, that’s it. MY MIGHTY HEART IS BROKEN. Wendell Jermaine (yes that really is his middle name) Sailor has officially retired from the NRL. Break out the Kleenex bitches, cause we’re gonna need them.

No more NRL back-rubs for Wendell.

I just saw a clip on FoxSports of baby 19-year-old Dell debuting for the Broncos when he was all skinny and didn’t even have the Famous Wendell Arse, and I actually may have had to wipe away a tear.

We have the fairylights on at Errol HQ, and the interns are busy framing pics of our favourite Big Dell moments and putting out little sandwiches and giant tumblers of vodka to get us through this hard time and help us say goodbye to Wendell.

Needless to say we Do Not Approve of Dell leaving us. When we found out he was set to announce his retirement (via twitter, of course, cause that’s where we get all our news) we immediately jumped in the Jeep to head down to St George Leagues Club and convince him to stay the best way we know how: by attaching ourselves to his leg as he tried to give his press conference and refusing to let go until he agreed to stay. It works when little kids do it, right?

Seriously, guys, let go of my leg.

Sadly, we forgot that Wendell is …. Wendell. If he can dump a Taniela Tuiaki over the sideline he can probably manage to walk with three Errol girls attached to his thigh. DAMMIT. We’re sorry everyone, but we did our best.

And before you give us that ‘oh, but he’s getting on a bit’ excuse, yes, yes we know. Dell is 35 now, which, as we all know, is about 89 in footy player years. (Footy player years are pretty much like dog years). But he’s Dell. If he can come back at 33 and play for Shellharbour and make his way back into first grade, bitch can do anything.

According to Dell he was on the downhill slide and thought he had to hit the road to make sure that a) he didn’t play like crap next year, and b) so that all the lil wingers like B.Moz, Flossy Nightingale and Michael Lett didn’t miss out on their chances in the Dragons side.

DAMMIT DELL, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO NOBLE? I would much prefer if he did the non-noble thing and hung around hogging that right wing until he died/became a senior citizen.

Although in a massively Wendell moment he also said:

“If I’m as popular as I think I am, then I’ll get selected to play in the indigenous game in February”.

Well thank fuck for that! Dell was a vital selection in the Sassy Indigenous all-stars team and I really didn’t want to have to get back to the drawing board and redo that whole team. Don’t you know I’m very busy and important? I really don’t have that kinda time.

There’s my boys!

He also said:

And to the kids, just know that if you dream big and you believe big, you can make it.

OF COURSE HE DID. HE BELIEVES THE CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE. DELL YOU ARE AMAZING DON’T LEAVE US.

Who else will smash opponents into touch, then offer them a hand to get back up? Who else is gonna devise cute little post-try celebrations with Jamie Soward and the Dragons mascot? Who else disco dances in the locker room (also known as the Greatest Off-field Moment of 2009)? Who else will be Adam MacDougall’s on-field comedy partner?

I mean we love Dell even though he’s a Queenslander, doesn’t that say it all? He is hands-down the greatest character in league.

Luckily, the Dragons are keeping Wendell on as an ambassador and mentor for another 3 years. Good call Wayne Bennett! This is why they call him a master coach, isn’t it?

Can we humbly suggest that perhaps they build Wendell a giant four-wheeled dragon car to ride on, so at appropriate moments during home games, Dell could maybe dress up as a fierce soldier and ride the dragon around the field brandishing his sword and making the motorised dragon breathe fire?

See where I’m going with this? YOU KNOW IT WOULD BE AMAZING.

Kiki and I came up with this one arvo sitting on the hill at Kogarah, and right now, seeing that dream come to life may be the only thing that will make us feel better.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go grab a tumbler and re-read all my favourite past Wendell Sailor posts.

I may also watch these two videos and sob uncontrollably:

Hit me up with your favourite Dell moments and join in, why don’t ya?

“It’s just been a weird night … and I’ve had a little bit to drink.”

So here’s the disclaimer: I went to Ladyhawke on Saturday night, and despite being Super Responsible and leaving the pub (I know, amazing right?) at well-maybe-a-little-bit-after-midnight like Cinderella, I was … well, look I was drunk when I watched this. Basically, I take no responsibility for being overexcited or imagining shit. But I think it’s more important to focus on the fact that I left a pub while it was still dark. That’s a massive achievement for me, JUST SO YOU KNOW.

To start with, is it wrong to say that I’m a bit in love with the British League commentators? Cause I am. No, not for their comical accents. Those bitches are insightful. They care about the important things: like explaining to the general European public that back in Australia Robbie Farah has a kebab named after him, but DON’T WORRY GUYS, IT’S A HEALTHY KEBAB! IT HAS CHICKEN AND VEGETABLES IN IT AND EVERYTHING.

God forbid anyone in the United Kingdom mistakenly think that Robbie Farah and his visible abs are schilling for some greasy obesity-inducing second-rate kebab. The commentary team are all about accuracy.

Well, all about accuracy … and historical lolz. After explaining in great detail that Northern Frenchies don’t play league because league was one of the things – along with freedom and equality – that Hitler cared not for, they start calling the French defence ‘the resistance’. It’s funny cause it means two things! *slaps knee*

These people? Yep, defenders of freedom and rugby league fans.

Meanwhile if you ever get heckled by rugby union fans for liking league, you can always ask whether they know that the Nazi collaborators and Vichy government in WWII France banned league and promoted union. Yes, people will think you’re a massive loser, but better that than a union follower, right? WE’RE THE RESISTANCE, BITCHES.

It also makes me happy to know that there are other nerds out there if the commentary team ever stumble onto Errol and read our footy posts from last year, they will totally enjoy Kiki’s jokes about Winston Churchill and Stalin and the Cronulla Sharks.

As for the game: not gonna lie, the Aussies didn’t live up to their potential as a team (and the Frenchies agree) but I care not. They had moustaches, and they entertained me, and that’s what counts.

So let’s talk about the Aussie boys.

MOS WIN MATCHES

Um, you know it’s true. No sooner had I pointed out that Cooper Cronk has one of the greatest moustaches in league history and reminds us of a latter-day 40-20 kicking Errol Flynn:

… really? I look that good?

Than he’s all up in the French’s business filling in for Thurston and Lockyer and generally being awesome. Sure, I’d had about six voddies, but I could still tell that the team looked way better in the second half when Cooper came off the bench. IT’S ALL IN THE MO, DARLINGS.

LESSONS FROM WAYNE PEARCE

And if Cooper’s lucky charm is a mo, then Robbie Farah’s is his headband. Remember way back in July when Robbie Farah rocked the tape headband and got his punch on with Anthony Watts?

Well from what he told us at the Kangaroos media call before the boys left, he’s … well he’s kinda proud. He also promised us that he’d bring back the headband as a rugby league look. After all, there’s nothing more Tigers than a tape headband, is there? Even Wayne Pearce knows the answer to that question.

Anyway, we’re pleased to observe that HE TOTALLY DID. Bitch is a man of his word! And there is no way you will ever convince me he didn’t tape himself up as an act of generosity and charity purely to entertain the Errol girls.

Although I do kinda wonder if Robbie just reserves the tape for special occasions, like when he punches on in the scrum, or when he’s going to appear in the starting Kangaroos team on international television. I say it’s no coincidence that Robbie rocked the shit out of the elastoplast in Paris just as he got his start as hooker, right?

THE ACTION IN THE STANDS

Meanwhile, as Robbie stepped in at dummy half, Cam Smith rested it up and discussed history with Brett White in the stands.

(Apparently Cam Smith totally enjoys history, by the way. That wasn’t just me projecting. I read it on the internet so you know it’s true).

French background dude does not appreciate Movember.

Don’t those handlebar moustaches just make you proud to be Australian? I love knowing I’m from a country that thought, you know what will do wonders for men’s health issues? Facial hair.

And with their schmick green Aussie blazers, I love that the touring Kangaroos kind of look like they’re on tour in Paris in 1975. Devils on horseback, anyone? Maybe a prawn cocktail?

I’m actually a bit offended that the Frenchie in the expensive-looking chocolate brown leather jacket in the background is looking so judgy and unimpressed by Cam Smith and Brett White and their handlebar efforts. IT’S CALLED MOVEMBER. IT’S FOR CHARITY. GOOGLE IT.

… but French background dude does find Anthony Watmough hilarious.

Meanwhile if you look in the foreground, NRL media manager David ‘D.T.’Taylor is kicking Movember’s ass with his mo, too. AMAZING WORK DAVE!

When the camera panned to the crowd during the game I almost spat out my diet coke in shock/joy, because Spotting D.T. is one of my favourite footy past times. It might even be better than my other favourite footy past time: ‘picking jobs for Nathan Hindmarsh’s kids’ (I’ll explain that one another time).

Wherever there are NRL players, there has to be an NRL media manager. So spotting D.T is like playing Where’s Wally – he has to be there somewhere, it’s just a question of where.

Exhibit A:

HI D.T! WE LOVE YOU!

You get extra points in this game if you manage to find a pic where he’s standing in the background looking sort of like a creep.

IT’S A MOZTRAVAGANZA!

I don’t know if I should mention it but we totally called it! As predicted, the Mozzie twins were a double-act of awesome against the French, racking up two tries each for a total of four. Four tries for their country? Shit is ridiculous!

I actually think while I was watching the game, when the commentators reminded us all they scored four, I may have yelled out FOUR FOR YOU GLEN COCO, YOU GO GLEN COCO!  Apologies to my neighbours. (Except the one who practises the flute every weeknight. They deserve it for annoying the hell out of me).

Clearly the French were dazzled by the Mozzie’s long long Bambi legs, super-speed, and general twinniness, those adorable over-achieving bastards.

Best of all? THE MOZZIES SLEDGE EACH OTHER. As they raced each other to ground a kick for a try I am 100% sure I saw B.Moz mocking J.Moz. And when he scored a second try, he made the international sibling expression for – HAH!

It’s all scratched knees and sibling rivalry in the Morris house

See? I have a brother and I totally make that face too. It’s a universal expression loosely translated as ‘I WIN!’ The only thing better was that when J.Moz got his first try on the board, he celebrated by getting caught on camera first giving an ‘I love you’ shout out to his family back home, then saying ‘thank fuck for that’. Bless.

THE SHOWDOWN

So the English shocked everyone by beating the Kiwis (I’d fallen asleep by this point), giving them the chance to play the Kangaroos in the final on the weekend. Allegedly Tim Sheens has told his team the gloves are off, and if anyone plays dirty, they should give it back. JUST DON’T HIT THE MOZZIES. THEY’RE TOO CUTE FOR VIOLENCE!

THE MONEY

Have you sponsored the Kangaroos yet? WELL HAVE YOU? You know you want to:

SPONSOR THE KANGAROOS

All pictures Getty Images

Screen caps by the amazing Cronkster, who’s on holiday in Fiji right now. HAVE FUN DARLING!

So you know how we can be narky bitches? Some things make even our black hearts overflow with joy. And two of those things are happening RIGHT NOW. Thanks to some pretty fabulous boys, October and November have quickly become my favourite non-footy time of the year.

TIMMY MANNAH DOES THE WORM

Remember last year we told y’all about Justin Poore, Nathan Hindmarsh and the boys and the awesome work they were doing for Village of Hope in Rwanda?

Pic. Gregg Porteous via news.com.au

Well apparently it was enough to inspire J.Poore to single-handedly try and provide enough content to fill up the Daily Telegraph’s ‘Scandal-Free Back Page’ for the whole of 2009. Because using his giant front-rowers arms to build homes for the Rwandans still suffering from the genocide of the 1990s wasn’t enough, he set up Poore Rwanda, which has already raised more than 30 grand towards the goal of building five homes for families in need, AND has taken another bunch of Eels players over to do their bit.

Um …. are you speechless? Yeah, me too. Pretty sure when I first heard about all of this I had to pause, put my cereal spoon down (why yes, I was having cereal for dinner. What of it?), and the only words I could manage to spit out were: “YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BE A BETTER MAN”.

Seeing the work J.Poore, Joel Reddy, Joe Galuvao, Tim Mannah and Kris Keating were doing on this trip is almost too much, you know?

I’m like a five year old, I don’t handle too much excitement well. Like the time in Las Vegas when I was so drunk excited at the prospect of seeing Elton John live at Caesar’s Palace I almost lost my damn mind. Kiki literally had to tell me to STOP SKIPPING THROUGH THE CASINO. YOU LOOK LIKE AN INSANE PERSON. It may have been because I was wearing a leopard print skirt at the time. I’m not sure. But I do know she was thisclose to giving me a flash of Phenergen and sending me back to the Hard Rock.

So you can imagine what I looked like when I saw the first pics of the boys over in Rwanda. Not just being adorable and doing good … but being fucking hilarious and awesome and Oz. They’re pretty much international ambassadors for Aussie culture.

Which makes sense, really, because if there’s one thing Australian men always ALWAYS do when their overseas, it’s roam in packs. Seeing an Aussie man alone overseas is like spotting a Tasmanian Tiger. And it’s the same with footy players – where there’s one, there’s always more. Usually also wearing screen-printed hoodies or team tracksuit pants. Cause that’s how they roll.

And the Eels boys over in Rwanda didn’t just have the ‘group travel thing down’ … they’re also ambassadors for Aussie fashionz. Check it out:

Joel Reddy displays the national costume of all Aussie boys when overseas: boardshorts.

Timmy Mannah wears his heart on his bucket hat. MATE DID YOU KNOW I’M AUSTRALIAN? IT SAYS SO ON MY HAT/TOWEL/BOARDSHORTS/HAVAIANAS.

And is that a chesty bonds I spy over there on the left on Justin Poore? A CHESTY BONDS LOOKING ON WHILE TIM MANNAH DOES THE WORM?

Excuse me while I die of joy.

So far, Hope Rwanda has built 30 houses for homeless families in three years, and if you wanna give them a little helping hand, maybe head over to HOPE:Rwanda or Poore Rwanda … you know you want to.

ps. Welcome home, boys!

Rwanda pics copyright www.hoperwanda.org

MOUSTACHES ARE FOR WINNERS

And yep, that’s the other reason why October and November make me happy in my heart … and in my pants. ONLY FIVE SLEEPS TILL MOVEMBER!

Nyello, I have an awesome mo on the line … will you accept the charges?

All of us Errol girls are complete bandits for a man with a moustache. Which, to be honest, you should be able to tell considering that we have Errol Flynn and his dapper little moustache rocking out on our website banner. HI EZ!

I love any man who’s willing to give up vanity and be part of Movember. Cause those first two weeks of trying to grow a mo are seriously bleak. They’re the facial hair equivalent of those awkward teenage years, where you have to wander around your workplace trying to look authoritative and competent despite the fact that you have four or five tentative, sad little moustache hairs sitting on your lip, and everyone looking at you like they’re not quite sure whether you’re doing Movember, or have just gone through a bad breakup and given up on life.

Plus you can’t wear a tracksuit of any kind for at least a fortnight cause, with the creepy little half-mo, it makes you look like a teenage meth dealer.

The upside, of course, is that at the end of four weeks you have a fucking sweet moustache that makes me girls go crazy for you, and you get to raise much-needed funds and awareness for men’s depression and prostate cancer. [I'd like to add that this will be our first ever Movember where one of us is actually going out with a mo-grower. That lady is me and I could not be more excited *waves at Suchy* - lozzy]

So any man who signs up for Movember has our respect. Also, they can feel free to come up and say hi if they see me in the street and I’ll give them complimentary gropes.

Last year we celebrated Movember by running our own campaign with everyone’s favourite intern, John Williams … can you believe we raised almost TWO AND A HALF GRAND? I seriously still can’t believe it.

This year, we’re not running our own Mo-team, but we’re doing something almost as good. We’re throwing our support behind the Kangaroos.

Because you all read our blog over on She Knows the Rules (you do … right? RIGHT? Hmmmm?) you already know that this year the Kangaroos are doing Movember.

Finally! Our dream of footy players being forced to participate in Movember has come true. Apparently they’re actually competing to see who can grow the best mo, but I think we all know already that’s gonna be Cameron Smith. There’s no way that bitch is gonna let anyone beat him. THIS IS HIS EVENT. HE FUCKING OWNS IT. If there was a Four Nations Tournament for hair-growing he would be captain, for reals. With Sam Thaiday as his deputy.

Cam Smith has already hinted he plans to grow a handlebar, also known as the Merv Hughes. Good choice, by the way.

But in case the rest of the boys are undecided, I’ve got a few suggestions. 

Robbie Farah is clearly a special for the Errol Flynn. Nothing would go better with his neatest-hair-in-the-world than a dapper little Errol mo.

I think he’s got the fashion sense to pull it off too. When the Wests Tigers media officer asked him about Kangaroos camp, he gave us this gem about Royce Simmons:

Roycey is always Roycey…tries to be funny but really he isn’t. We always laugh but what he doesn’t know is that we are laughing at him, not with him. He has promised me he’ll let me take him shopping while we’re over here because I’m sick of his crap polo shirts and ugly brown shoes that he always wears. He must have 10 pairs of them!

Oh, Robbie. 

I’ve also decided nothing would go better with Nathan Hindmarsh’s Russell Hammond hair than a Dennis Lillee.

And Billy Slater, aka Errol’s Newest Footy Crush … well, my spidey senses tell me he can probably grow about as much of a mo as I can. Which before you ask IS NOT VERY MUCH. God. What kind of girl do you think I am? So instead of suggesting a mo, I’m just gonna FedEx him this:

If you want to sign up, or sponsor the Kangaroos, get over to the Movember site.

FOUR NATIONS FOR WITHDRAWALS

And probably the thing that makes us happiest: THERE’S STILL FOOTY ON. Thank God, cause it means we don’t have to go straight from four days of footy a week to none. Cold turkey is a bitch. Instead we’ve got the Four Nations to ease us out of the regular season.

And if you’re like me, you watched the Four Nations games on replay on Foxtel. The way the lord intended. Unless I’m getting home at 5am … I don’t want anything to do with the sunrise. It’s uncivilised and unhealthy and I refuse to have anything to do with it. Just one of the many reasons why I’m a writer.

To be completely truthful, it was sort of hard to get up at midday, but that’s not the point.

Pic. Getty Images

The point is it was worth it. Errol favourite Brett Morris scoring on debut for the Kangaroos AND first try of the game. GO B.MOZ GO! I can say with full certainty it was our support during the season that made this possible. Some may say it was thanks to Cameron Smith’s brilliant offload and Greg Inglis’ excellent run, but I KNOW BETTER. That shit was all thanks to Errol.

Yes, he also … well, he sort of fell over and missed out on scoring another try earlier in the game:

“I was trying to set up an in and away on the fullback and I went to step off my foot and I fell down a hole. I put my foot down … tripped over and looked like an idiot. It wasn’t too good.”

Whatever. I maintain that was only because his legs are so long. Like Bambi. IT’S NOT HIS FAULT, PEOPLE.

Apparently B.Moz’s appeal is international, too, because the Sky commentators can’t get enough of him. As far as I can tell, the only time they stopped talking about Fui Fui Moi Moi and Jared Warea-Hargreaves was when they spent 10 minutes waxing lyrical about B.Moz. Isn’t he fast? Did you know he started the year in reserve grade? And he’s only only 23! And on debut!

Um, of course we know. We’re way ahead of the curve, bitches.

Till next time, kittens x

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!).

***********************

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.

***********************

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

Wanna know what this post is about? IT’S ALL. ABOUT. GEORGE. ROSE.

Hi George! If you read this, feel free to stop by Errol HQ and we will give you Errol snuggles.

Ok, so there may be some other things later on. For instance, if you follow us on twitter you’ll know we all went to the Dragons game on Sunday at Kogarah, so I should probably write about Jarryd Hayne being a freak of nature, and what he has in common with Beyonce (hint: it’s not a big arse).

This photo needs more George Rose.

But mainly, it’s about George Rose. A few weeks ago the Errol girls hit up Brookvale Oval with our american besties Jay and Suellen to watch Manly thrash the Titans. They are huuuge NFL and college football fans, and all around great humans, so we thought they would enjoy an authentic Aussie league experience. … They totally did. Their faces basically lit up when Igor the Eagle came out to dance on the field and I reenacted told them the story of him beating down a heckler who invaded the field. Go Igor go! Bet you don’t get that in college football, hmmmm?

But the best thing about our trip to the Northern beaches was realising that everyone in the whole of Manly loves George Rose as much as we do.

God those bitches have good taste. And it’s not them. Know who agrees? The Aussie selectors.

Big Georgie Rose is in the training sqaud for the next Kangaroos tour of Europe.

And okay, maybe he’s not the most ripped man in the NRL … but what’s wrong with that? We’ve already got one Hot Bitch Cooper, right? Down with body fascism! Bottom line is everyone knows Georgie’s a dynamo. As Homer Simpson would say, George Rose you are a BIG FAT DYNAMO.

(Just quietly, that’s what Kiki calls me. Just one of the many reasons why George and I should be besties).

Meanwhile, why we were drawing up our list of Reasonz We Luv George, there were semi-finals happening. Melbourne demolished a flat Manly, the Dogs took out the Knights, and up in Queensland there was one of the most amazing games of semis footy in aaages.

Carty does not agree with that assessment.

There was Broncos magic, a massive Titans comeback, and John Cartwright barely managed not to bust out of his shirt and tie with rage like the Hulk, or (thankfully) have a stroke. WELU CARTY! PLEASE DON’T DIE BEFORE WE GIVE YOU YOUR 2009 ERROL AWARD!

Turns out Carty did verbally smack a bitch down at halftime … and get fined $10,000.00. I just hope it was as hilarious as Scotty Prince’s post-game interviews. No one is a better pissed off captain that Scott Prince. NO ONE.

Pic. Richard Gosling

Remember last year, when he accused the ref of having his Wests Tigers undies on?

Or “… you sent off their dumb forward and our smart hooker!”

Well on Sunday he stuck the boot into Darren Lockyer for milking a penalty on the field: ”Have they given out awards for the Logies this year?”

Oh, Scotty.

And on Sunday afternoon at Kogarah, Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne decided to show all the haters why he won the Dally M medal. Kittens, this is why:

FREAK. HE IS A FREAK. I mean obviously there were other reasons. Jamie Soward just wasn’t Jamie Soward. I dunno who was kicking out there, but it wasn’t our usual Tiny Dancer. The touchies filled me with rage, and the Dragons’ fifth tackle options were …. let’s just say they reminded me of the Roosters. And that’s not a good thing. THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY TIMES YOU CAN KICK THE SAME BOMB.

But not all the awesome Dragons fans could stop Jarryd-with-a-Y and his ridiculous form. Now that he’s found God, bitch is on fire.  I mean, I have no idea what kind of God he’s found, but apparently he was rocking a giant set of wooden rosary beads in the locker room, so I’m gonna go with Catholic.

Even Ray Warren sounds biblical in the commentary from the game. “Look at this in delight! Look at this in wonderment!” That’s a quote straight from the gospel of Rabs.

And thanks to the hooked-up Jessica Halloran we found out that Jarryd-with-a-Y has “an on-field alter ego.”

Seriously. JUST LIKE BEYONCE.

And if Ms Halloran’s dictaphone hadn’t died, I’m pretty sure he would have kept going and told us all exactly what Beyonce said when she revealed she has an alter ego.

“I turn into Sasha. I wouldn’t like Sasha if I met her … she’s too aggressive, too strong, too sassy, too sexy! I’m not like her in real life at all. I’m not flirtatious and super-confident and fearless like her.”

Jarryd Hayne is …. SASHA FIERCE.

So I know some of you all may have missed the Dally Ms on Tuesday night, because … well, most probably because you had more important things to do, like googling ‘cancer’ to see if that funny feeling in your throat is deadly or listening to Faith Hill albums. WELL YOU MISSED OUT.

Didn’t you know that Events Involving Rugby League are always always worth watching? Because anything ridiculous or awkward that can happen in life will always always somehow happen to league. Don’t believe me? Well you can piss off and try and find another sport that has had an INTERNATIONAL MANHUNT in the last two years. I rest my case. It’s just … destiny. The same way that if there’s an aging bogan or an underage boy in the vicinity they will ALWAYS manage to find Kiki and me like magnets.

Luckily, Lozzy and Kiki came over to mine to watch the spectacular with me, and I’ma recap all the important parts for you. Don’t worry, you can repay me with thankyou gropes.

Unrelated note: how beautiful is Simone Ennis? So beautiful.

So we start with super-glamorous shots of all the schmicked up footy players and their dates arriving at the State Theatre. God I love footy players in suits. It’s one of my top ten favourite things. I love the way they keep looking around uncomfortably and pulling at their collars. It’s so deliciously awkward. Kinda like when they make Serena Williams wear a formal dress to the ball after she wins a Grand Slam and it looks like she’s just been wrapped in chiffon against her will. Or watching a dog walk on its hind legs.

Apparently the theme of the ceremony this year isn’t ‘irony’, cause Greg Alexander starts the show walking up the aisle talking solemnly into the camera while some kind of Space Odyssey: 2001 orchestral music plays super loudly in the background. Bet there’s at least one guy sitting in the audience praying and thinking ARE THE DALLY MS CANCELLED? ARE THEY GONNA SCREEN STAR WARS INSTEAD?

No, my sad friend. What they are gonna do is get an orchestra to play while we watch slo-mo league highlights. Because nothing says ‘league’ like an orchestra. Right? Personally, I was hoping for interpretive dance. Everyone loves interpretive dance.

So then Laurie Daley and Warren Smith get on stage and Warren’s got this crazy Napro Livecolour Just for Men shiny maroon hair for some reason and they’re bantering like it’s the Loz & Waz comedy hour and Lozzy is just sitting on the couch looking at me like ‘what the fuck? You got me over here to watch this?’. I feel like any second they’re gonna tell me to enjoy the rest of my cruise and try the prawn cocktail.

I totally freak out when they read out the Rookie of the Year nominations because, well, they’re Dan Dan Mortimer, Josh Dugan, Jarrod Croker, and Jamal Idris. Lozzy takes the piss out of me mercilessly after I actually wail ‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I LOVE THEM ALL’. Apparently in my mind I decide the awards. Crokes’ skunk striped black and white hair from last week is all just dark brown now … did David Furner make him dye it? I’m guessing yes.

Jamal takes it out and ambles up to get his award, lookin all sharp in his giant suit. Apparently he wears his hair out for formal occasions. Pigtails are only for sporting activities. We all lose our shit because … well because he’s Jamal. WHAT’S NOT TO LOVE? HE’S AMAZING. HE’S DOING HIS HSC AND HE HAS A MOUSTACHE. You don’t see that every day.

He also tells us that he chose league over javelin cause “you get to hit people, and you can get hit. It’s more fun hey.” I’m gonna put it out there that there would be a much bigger audience for javelin if you could hit people. It would be so … Roman gladiator. As if you wouldn’t tune in if there was a chance of a competitor getting a well-placed javelin through the thigh. It would be CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.

The Polar Bear and his lady. Pic. Gregg Porteous

What was my point? Oh yes, next Ben Hannant wins the front rower of the year award and looks all happy and chuffed about it. It’s adorable. Good for you Benny! Even though he’s a Queenslander he’s impossible to hate. I think it’s the lovely blond hair. That and the fact that they call him a polar bear (that totally won Lozzy over. If there’s anything she loves more than a larger man, it’s an animal reference … preferably a LolCat). Needless to say Lozzy is now all over Ben Hannant’s swagger.

I have this sneaking suspicion that the Dally M peeps were all happy when they realised Hannant won this award … cause dammit if he didn’t deserve it. Not only did he get outed on national television by the commentators for having the runs, he was also the first player in the NRL to get SWINE FLU. Sucks to be Ben Hannant in 2009.

Just quietly – how totally and completely rugby league is it that players got swine flu? Seriously, is there any other sport in the world that had to have players quarantined for swine flu? OF COURSE THERE ISN’T. Because ridiculous shit like Swine Flu quarantine scandals only happens in league. Shit like international manhunts, and players having to be taken off the field with the runs, and naked hotel corridor scandals, and that time Billy Idol’s mike didn’t work. It’s one of the things we love most about it.

We seriously called it about four weeks before it happened that at least one NRL player would get swine flu. Not any other Australian sport … just league. We were so convinced that on the morning when the news broke Lozzy and I literally ran in and jumped on a sleeping Kiki yelling WE KNEW IT. BEN HANNANT HAS SWINE FLUUUUUUU. Best alarm clock ever, right?

Next up Anthony Watmough takes out second rower and the Errol gallery loses their damn minds. I have no idea when it happened, but at some point in 2009 we all became complete Watmough freaks. Just absolute bandits for some Watmough. TEAM WATMOUGH! *high kick* Maybe it’s because he’s always lovely and polite to us/remembers what we do/gives us awesome career advice? Who can say. It might also be because of the way he carved up the Queenslanders in game three of State of Origin this year. Either way, we all squeal with joy.

Plus, he looks seriously dashing. Points to Watmough for the best suit and best tie of the night. Who would’ve thought a forward would win that award? Amazing. He also jokes that he plays well just so he doesn’t piss off Des Hasler, and that makes us happy because we kinda suspect it’s the truth. Des can be a terrifying, terrifying man.

Warren Smith tries to introduce David Gallop to give a speech and …. um, has anyone seen DG? Anyone? He’s, wait, he’s on the way? On the way from where? Is he peeing? Is he drunk in the corridor like Kiki suspects he is?

[I imagined him clutching a bottle of whiskey, sobbing and refusing to go on stage. I CAN'T DO IT...DON'T MAKE ME DO IT! - K]

Bet they’ve never lost the head of the AFL at the Brownlows … oh, league. You are so special.

About twenty minutes later someone finds DG and shunts him up on the stage to give the Most Ironic Speech Ever:

“We’ve seen our players do extraordinary things this year … “

Nate Myles I believe this is directed at you!

“… and they deliver so consistently.”

This one’s for the Roosters, right? They have been bloody consistent this season. In a lot of ways.

We get some crowd shots of Jamie Soward looking completely furious and about to give up on life and/or start a shooting rampage. Possibly because there’s no booze. That’s right, this year the players have been squished into little seats at the State Theater. No moving, no food and no booze. It’s like the awards equivalent of being grounded for bad behaviour. This is not surprising. Even winning TWO awards doesn’t help.

Have you ever seen a happier man? Unlikely. *cough*

Nathan Hindmarsh and Fui Fui Moi Moi are all tucked in their little seats next to each other like dates. They make a lovely couple. Hornbag’s skin looks lovely and glowy. The Mozzies look like the cutest twins in cute-town, as always. Brett Kimmorley’s broken cheekbone is tres upsetting and has given him a crazy-zombie-red-eye. If I was him, I would’ve worn a nifty little formal eyepatch. Maybe one with spangles on it. Like Gabrielle!

We’re getting closer to the big announcement, when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd struts out on stage. Of course he does. Of course K.Rudd has nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than attend the Dally M Awards. God knows he wouldn’t be fine-tuning the proposed ETS. He’d much rather be drinking beer shirtless with Billy Slater or presenting footy awards. I love our country so much sometimes, and this is one of those times.

Pic. Brett Costello

The camera gives us a shot of Kurt Gidley, who for reasons we haven’t quite figured out, is wearing an amazing shiny metallic grey suit. He’s either planning on a trip to the moon later, or has built some kind of time machine for a trip back to Studio 54 circa 1981. I like it.

We take bets on who’s gonna win the thing, and – more importantly – on when Tiny Dancer Sowie is gonna blow. My guess is that he’ll leap up, punch Brandy and run for the exit within the next five minutes.

Straight after this, I am not exaggerating, the BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN happens on the tv. I shit you not. Someone who is apparently from ‘Australia’s got Talent’ gets up on stage and starts singing the Josh Groban song ‘You Raise me Up’. Then …. I also shit you not, they start showing slow motion footage of footy players out in the community doing various good works. It doesn’t sound that good, so far, right? Well that’s because I haven’t told you that part of the footage is of Shane Shackleton leaping on a jumping castle for deadset thirty seconds. With children. In slow motion.

THIS:

PLUS THIS:

= HILARITY.

If you haven’t seen the Love Shack leaping in slow motion on a giant inflatable jhumping castle set to pop-opera, well then, my friends, you haven’t lived. I lost. my.  damn. mind.

Finally, after the shortest, dryest, booze-free awards ceremony ever, the winner is ….. *drumroll* … JARRYD HAYNE.

Kiki and Lozzy yell out AT LEAST IT’S NOT THURSTON. And it’s true. It makes our sky blue hearts happy that a NSW player won it. If Queensland won anything else this year we would’ve exploded with rage.

Hayne decides to totally tug on my heartstrings by kissing his mum on the shoulder (HIS MUM IS HIS DATE. CUTE) then telling the whole of Australia “I feel like crying”.

Crying from happiness, I presume. After all, he’s just won the Dally M player of the year … and he made it through the whole of the 2009 season without getting shot at. That’s pretty sweet.

I’m so touched that I don’t even correct his grammar when he says “it blew my mind away. I’m so gracious I went on that tour [with Fiji]“.

He poses with the rest of the Dally M team of the year – including Michael Ennis holding his award like a giant penis – and in true rugby league style, the ceremony ends with a giant explosion of confetti that scares the absolute shit out of Jarryd Hayne. He leaps about two feet and almost chokes himself with his medal. It’s amazing.

Pic. Steve Christo

It could only be more league if the confetti had somehow poked the Dally M player of the year in the eye and/or given him swine flu. Don’t you think?

Till next year kittens x

HI BITCHES! Did you miss me? I know you did. You know who missed me more than anyone in the whole wide world? The bloody Dragons. You realise their form took a nosedive as soon as I left the country right? The little fuckers. This isn’t the first time either. In 2006 when I went to the States they lost every game while I was away, then started winning when I returned. And this time they did EXACTLY THE SAME THING.

The past 2 and a half weeks I couldn’t even enjoy my break. No no. I was deadset flooded with communication from home concerning the Dragons. Either it was St George fans begging me to come home, fans of other teams delighting in the Dragons misery (fuck all y’all!!) or my mother ringing saying things like ‘darling….I have some bad news’.

Anyway, we returned home last Friday and whaddyaknow, those tricksy little buggers found their form again and kicked some blue and yellow ass. They were all scorching attack, flawless hard hitting defence and OH HI B.MOZ GOT 3 TRIES! I was torn between being completely over joyed, horrifically jetlagged and being annoyed at them punishing me for going on holidays. Emotional manipulation! Disgrace!

Intern John John jumped into his spangly hotpants and checked the Errol mailbox on Monday morning and found a card my boys sent me. MINOR PREMIERS WHUT WHUUUUT! I adore the love hearts, that was Hot Bitch Cooper’s touch wasn’t it? He is a design genius. All is forgiven my darlings.

Obviously I am absolutely thrilled with the Minor Premiership and could not be prouder of my babies. I am also rather excited that in my absence  Dell has embraced his disco aura and is growing a fierce fro and sideburns combination. Amazing.

So anyway, our trip was amazing and we love the Jacksonville Axemen even more than before. Put it this way, there were goodbye tears. And hugs. And wailing. We will be writing some posts on them soon, including lots of awesome photos that we snapped. We had the most epic time and the boys, along with their staff and fans, are some of the greatest people we have ever met….so stay tuned for that.

In other vitally important Kiki/Errol newz, today I won a a guessing competition on Twitter. Who cares, you say? Oh no, this shit is lolz x 1000. For those who don’t know,  Mat Rogers has a Twitter. AND IT IS AMAZING. 

Today he posted this photo and asked his followers to guess who it was. The winner would receive a signed Titans poster.

I took one look and thought I KNOW THOSE NIPPLES…IT’S KEVIN GORDON! And what do you know…I WON THE COMPETITION. Aaaaaah lolol. I was alone at home on my lappie and when Mat tweeted at us to let us know I was the winner, I seriously laughed out loud and clapped like an idiot. I am such a loser.

So apparently the poster is on the way to Errol HQ and I could not be happier. Not because we get a signed Titans poster, but because my intense perviness has finally paid off.

PS- Seriously how ripped is K.Flash? Thrusssst.

PPS – Never fear kittens, the Errol Awards ARE on for 2009…just a bit delayed. We have new categories and everything. Coming soon!

Darlings, have you missed us? I know, I know, it’s been ages. I’M SORRY. It turns out that staying up all night watching the Ashes so we can blog for Cricket Australia, and spending your Saturdays whipping up columns for NSWRL really takes up a girl’s time.

But Sassy’s back now so you can stop biting your nails and weeping and just relax. Yes, yes, I promise I will never leave you again. Seriously, let go of my leg … except you Kevin Gordon. You can stay right there. As you were mister!

And now I’ve got my creepy quota in for the day, let’s talk footy. Everyone’s lost their damn minds talking about Karmichael Hunt switching to AFL. Which, to be completely honest, confuses me. Confuses me in the sense that …. I just don’t care. I feel like I’m missing something. I’m not shocked, cause didn’t he already switch to Union. Or did I make that up? Whatever. Let’s just say Karmichael is a straight-up code whore. And I’m not even angry! I kinda understand why someone would switch to AFL. They do have those adorable little sleeveless tops, plus from what I hear, spring rolls at the ground. Sounds pretty sweet to me. Mmmmm …. spring roll. All you have to give up is the joy of playing the greatest code in existence (for explanation, please see replay of Monday’s Tigers vs Sea Eagles game).

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

Best of all: HE’S A QUEENSLANDER. Buh-bye K.Hunt! Take the rest of the maroons with ya, why don’t ya? In fact the only downside of K.Hunt jumping ship is that, when Channel 9 broadcast Broncos games, we now no longer have the delightful possibility that Ray Warren will accidentally call him ‘Kunt’ again. Man, that was sweet.

But this week we realised he might’ve inspired some other league boys to start looking at their options. For one thing, Robbie Farah has a brand new career as a Hot Bitch. When did this happen? Seriously, when? We always adored Robbie for his Serious Thoughtful Comments at press conferences. Now we also adore him for his awesome new beard, and the fact that when he breathes in you can see his six pack through his jersey.

Apparently Robbie does not often indulge in a Robbie Farah kebab.

Terry Campese is in intense training for the T.Camps Michael Jackson tribute hour, hitting the road in the off-season 2009.

Not to mention that every time we turn on the tv we see another NRL player out there pimping out their skillset and trying new things. After his awesome performance on the weekend against the Knights I almost choked on my healthy healthy dinner when I saw Shaun Kenny-Dowall on Sports Tonight rocking out in the pool at swim school.

NO DARLING NO! YOU PLAYED SO WELL!

The way the Roosters season is going right now, if SKD leaves me to join the New Zealand Silver Waterfern swim team or whatever the fuck they’re called for the Commonwealth games in 2010, I will actually end up rocking in the corner in the foetal position. One win does not make a summer, or whatever that expression is. Although a few more losses from the Sharkies should keep us away from the wooden spoon, and, oh, how I cling to that.

Although I do think it would be pretty sweet if Beau Ryan passes his anatomy course and takes up a new career as an Osteopath. I find him oddly …. comforting. I would totally trust him with my spinal health. Although maybe not so much if he decides to become a plastic surgeon or something, because bitch is having troubles with some of the basic concepts of the torsal region.

So, the rib bones connected to the …. boob bone.

He seems to be enjoying the anatomy stuff a lot more than he enjoyed his film course, anyway.

Beau cares not for Peter Jackson fantasy epics. AND THAT ARAGORN IS A DOUCHEBAG.

As for Scotty Prince, I have absolutely no fucking idea what he is doing in an underwater plastic capsule, with BEN ROSS of all people, looking at crocodiles. But here ya go, just because Prince Scotty the Caramel is the reigning Oh Errol snuggliest man in league, and that deserves a run:

Meanwhile before my proud and noble Chooks beat them over the weekend, the Knights were already down a few superstars. I was nestled in the couch last week watching them have their asses handed to them by Manly when all of a sudden the camera flashed to Jarrod Mullen and Chris Houston on the sideline, looking … HOLD ON A SECOND. WHY SO HAPPY BOYS?

More importantly, why is Jarrod Mullen making the EXACT FACE I make when I fancy someone and am busy trying to look cute while I laugh at their jokes, instead of cackling and slapping my knee like I normally do when I find something hilarious. J.Mull, you are TOTALLY FLIRTING. Next thing you know he’ll be sitting sideways on his chair and leaning in close to talk to Houston in preparation for a pash.

(Just by the way, hi Ben Cross in the background! Sorry about that time at State of Origin when I thought you were Danny Nutley).

You know what this means, right? Well, for one thing, Kiki is more jealous than words can express. She loves a bit of Chris Houston’s action. She always tells me so. I think it’s the ye olde blacksmith vibe that gets her. But more importantly, Danny Wicks is gonna be PISSED. He is so not gonna stand for someone making the moves on his mans. Not when they’re so involved: those two share a team, a changeroom, a home, AND a vespa. They are committed.

Oh man, just quietly that video never EVER gets old. Who would have thought two forwards riding a scooter together would be so lolz-inducing?

I feel like either one of Kiki and Danny Wicks might jump out of the bushes and try and ambush J.Mull at any time. My advice to him is to carry a bacon sandwich with him wherever he goes. That would distract either of them. Just chuck it and run like a robber trying to get past a Rottweiler.

J.Mull and Houston have nothing on the greatest love story of the 09 league season though, which everyone knows is a little something called Uncle Wayne and Hot Bitch.

Remember them?

How could you forget? He can hardly wait to hold him, feel his arms around him. What was my point?

Oh yeah, check out who popped up in the box (heh, box) at the Dragons vs Storm extravaganza at Kogarah.

FLOSSY NIGHTINGALE IS THAT YOU? Look at him all up in the coaches box, makin eyes at Uncle Wayne, not even looking at the big flashing talkie box that shows you the game. It’s some First Wives’ Club shit happening up in there … leaving one man for a younger model. Hot Bitch Cooper will not be pleased.

Luckily, I bet he looks fierce in some white pants.

Thanks as always to the gorgeous Cronkster and everyone’s favourite blog, Hot Aussie Footy Players Shirtless for the caps.

So … I guess I should talk Roosters. Cruelly defeated by the Warriors on the weekend just the day after they found out their coach Freddy was getting the boot. Can’t that result be reversed somehow? Emotional distress? That always worked for me on exams in high school. That and period pain.

Sassy on her way to the SFS

Cause my chookies straight up deserved to win that game. Not just because I really REALLY needed a win for the sake of my sanity. Somehow, even though my boys are at the bottom of the ladder, I’m still managing to get up every day and have a shower and do my hair. For now, anyway. I’m not quite at crazy-trolley-pushing-cat-lady yet.

BUT THAT DAY MAY COME SOON. Just so you know. A few more weeks of the kind of shit season the Roosters are having this year and I just may lose my damn mind. If you see me shuffling around Bondi Junction with a crappy old fm radio sticky-taped together and blasting Phil Collins, try not to be alarmed.

More like my babies played with heart. People love calling the Roosters sell-outs almost as much as the Errol girls love a bevvie … but my boys proved em wrong. Sadly, that still ended in a loss. Excuse me while I weep softly for a few moments.

And I can call them my babies, because they are all So Tiny. Tiny like macaronis! Apparently their average age is only 21. I say ‘apparently’ cause clearly there is no way I’m getting out my calculator and figuring that out. Just believe it or I will kick you in the shins.

^ Sad Roosters.

So it’s no wonder I feel kinda big sisterly about my chicklets. And seeing their disappointed faces after the last-minute loss …. my heart broke. For reals. I was gutted like they’d just lost a grand final. Fitzy looked like he had lived through five liftetimes of pain, and when Mitchell Pearce was interviewed I think he almost shed a tear. Usually only Jonathan Thurston does that.

I shouldn’t admit this, but I may also have fought back a tear, In my defence, that was probably cause I’m on a the Errol health kick and my body’s freaking the fuck out now that I don’t have any fatty carbs in my system. I’m like an addict in withdrawals. I almost cry everytime I see people eating pasta on tv. PASTA, HOW I MISS YOUUUUU.

It’s just lucky there were some rays of footy light to ease me through the Sunday afternoon blues.

In amongst all the drama about Freddy leaving (and taking his footies with him thanksverymuch) and Brian Smith being hired as the 2010 coach … everyone was asking ex-Newcastle players what they thought of Smith. Kirk Reynoldson chatted to a reporter and gave us this gold:

“I’d trust Shane Warne with my wife more than I would trust Brian Smith.”

… Well that’s just unnecessary, don’t you think, Kirk?

So … obviously not a big fan of Brian Smith. But more importantly, do you know HOW unimpressed he is with him? UNIMPRESSED ENOUGH TO MAKE JOKES ABOUT SHANE WARNE AND HIS TEXT MESSAGING INFIDELITY. I like to think that in no other sport would this be a totally normal way to explain how you feel about your ex-coach. We love you, rugby league.

And then Robbie Farah turned up on the tv to turn my frown upside down. When the Cowboys scored a try in … what? 10 seconds after coming onto the field? It looked like the Tiges were going down. But after Anthony Watts unexpectedly punched Robbie Farah in the face in a scrum … it was on, bitches. The next time there was a scrum, the rest of the Tigers split it in two so that Robbie could square up for some revenge.

Who knew Robbie Farah had it in him? He always seems like such a Serious Thoughtful Young Man. Now we know that he’s a Serious Thoughtful Young Man, who, given the chance, can lay five awesome left uppercuts on someone. Robbie’s got fists of fury! That bitch was going down. Sure they were both sent off, but it was glorious while it lasted.

Watts told the media he wasn’t sure how many Tigers were punching him in the scrum cause there were lots … oh, honey, no. There was just the one. Well, I guess it could be three if you count Robbie and his two fists. How did you know that was exactly what would cheer me up Robbie Farah? I love a sin-binning!

Sassy likes mah headband? SCORE.
Pic. Mark Nolan

And when the boys came back from the bin, Robbie was talking smack and wearing a rocking retro headband, and Anthony Watts looked suspiciously like he had been stung in the face by a thousand bees. Daaaaamn. Bitch looked beat down.

I also shouldn’t admit this, but when Robbie unleashed on the field, I actually said “… I have a ladyboner AND a footy boner”. I know this cause Kiki told me. That bitch has the memory of an elephant sometimes. *cough* Anyway. What can I say? I have a dirty dirty weakness for footy violent times. It’s one of my (many) shames.

And from there the Tigers were full of excitement and Benji Marshall magic and all that is good and right in Leichhardt. That’s right, their win was pretty much all thanks to the fight. You can’t argue with facts. I was wearing my labcoat when I typed that and everything.

But the best news of all? INTERN JOHN JOHN’S FAMOUS. Well, of course he is. He’s Errol’s favourite intern. But he’s also in Big League this week. *waves to John-John*

Obviously we kinda hate that in the headline they call him “the Wolfbrother”. His proper name is INTERN JOHN JOHN, and his brother is called the HOT PIONEER, kthanks. But we love when people give him raps.

“I’m not aiming for the limelight or anything. I’m just happy to go out there and do my job and play good footy,” he says.

“As long as the boys around me are recognising that and knowing I’m busting my arse for them, then that’s the most reward you can get. You want your team-mates and your coaches to be happy with your performances.”

WHY SO HUMBLE BB? After all he’s an Errol superstar. We’re just sad they didn’t use any of our quotes in the Big League article. I can’t believe that the magazine’s readers don’t wanna know that JJ is an expert limbo contestant, always puts love hearts in our lattes, rocks a pair of purple spangly hotpants at office parties … or THAT HE GREW US A MOUSTACHE FOR MOVEMBER.

Poor journalism!