origin II: rise of the machine … and the #boganboner

June 16th, 2011

Er, well, this is a little awkward. Want to know who won our Cattledog Minutes comp for State of Origin II? Um … no one. The biff was absent. The closest we got to a melee was Michael Ennis opening his mouth and screaming YEAAAAAH like a deranged Eddie Munster into Sam Thaiday’s face. And did we enjoy it? Fuck yes!

We loved it almost as much as this moment:

When Nathan Hindmarsh accidentally walked through shot while Jebediah put on the pre-game entertainment. Oh Hindy, we love you more than life. Especially for tweeting the evidence, because Kiki missed it during the game. There are many things that Would Only Happen In Rugby League. The swine flu outbreak of 2009, brawls in a charity match to raise money for flood victims, heads being stapled up on the sideline…and of course, the moment above. LOVE YA RUGBY LEAGUE!

But back to Ennis: does it count as Cattledog? Sadly, no.

So instead, we’re saving this game’s prize, and next game there will be TWO prizes. One for the closest Queenslander and one for the closest Blue. We are all about fairness.

Luckily, in place of a a biff, we had 80 full minutes of New South Wales glory. Let’s break it down, shall we?


Oh, Anthony Minichiello, how we missed you! No one teaches children how to count like you do. If we ever needed proof that old men still got it, Mini brought it. Under the high ball? Safe as houses! He probably has many of them, too, as investment properties, because he’s old. Seriously, he’s in his thirties. That’s like being 80 in regular person years, and we all know old people love real estate. Plus he had to do something with all that spare time while he recuperated from injury.

Mini’s catch of the high ball in-goal was a thing of beauty, and seeing him sail over for a try brought a tear to Sassy’s eye. He’s a recycled fullback but he’s as good as new. Plus, he matches beautifully with our recycled coach, Ricky Stuart, recycled centre, Mark Gasnier, and shiny recycled utility book-ends Kurt Gidley and Luke Lewis.

One of our favourite hobbies is saying Kurt Gidley ruins things. Because, well, he often does. Not necessarily through incompetence or malice, but usually, just by being where he’s asked to be.

Gidley can ruin an Origin game out on the field the same way a whale ruins a picnic table … just by being on it.

Gidley ruins Origin the way a fly ruins a bowl of soup. Or a bird poo ruins a perfectly clean car. It’s all about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And by wrong place, we mean ‘captaining from the bench’, or ‘NSW fullback’. Sure it’s not his fault, but when the bird’s not around, you get angry at the poo. You know?

Know where he doesn’t ruin things? PLAYING INTERCHANGE DUMMY HALF.

Seeing Gidley come off the bench last night was like seeing a whale leap back into the ocean.


He was quick with the ball from the ruck, his off-loads were sneaky and plentiful. It’s not a coincidence that when he came on the NSW attack lifted in intensity. We were approx. 62% more dangerous. It’s just science.

What can a girl say except #BOGANBONER?

And if Free Gidley was responsible for 18% of that made up statistic, our man Luke Lewis was the rest. What a spectacular human. When Josh ‘Hot Bogan’ Dugan was felled by injury we were worried our bogan quota would go unfilled but thankfully for NSW, Luke Lewis came roaring into the side. AND HOW! In years to come, aliens will try and figure out our culture by watching video of him looming from the right of frame, powering like a cannon ball to slam into Cooper Cronk (lucky for Fierce Bitch Cooper he is partly adamantium and therefore uncrushable) and save a Maroons try.

Sassy told Twitter last night that she was starting to have the kind of thoughts about Luke Lewis  that lead to dreams of getting married in Penrith and serving home brew at the reception, and after a night to think about it Kiki’s totally on board too. How can we resist that frosty-haired spunk? LUKE. CALL US YOU HOT ANGRY BOGAN.

Whats that? How can you guys have a crush on a man who proudly sports blonde foils in the year 2011? Pleaaaaase. Everyone knows Australian sporting power prowess has a direct connection to hair bleach and streaking caps. See below.

Now all of you kneel and pay homage to the lord of the #boganboner. Thanks.


Oh good lord, Will Hopoate. What are you doing to us, boy? Playing with so much confidence, scoring a try in the corner like a less-Maroon and less-hateful Justin Hodges, deciding to leave us for two years, LOOKING LIKE THAT. If having dirty thoughts about a 19 year old Mormon is wrong, we don’t wanna be right. Don’t lie, you all did too. Even the straight men.

As much as we respect his choice to go on his mission and spend two years testing young ladies’ ability to concentrate on things other than staring at Hoppa, we can’t wait for him to come back into the loving arms of NSW. Ho.Ju you are a revelation, to the fans AND to newspaper sub-editors who get to make up witty ‘mission’ headlines about you. Also, we hope you enjoyed the slightly smuttier ‘missonary’ jokes we made on Twitter during the game.

At first we were mourning the loss of such a beautiful caramel man to religion, then Errol bestie and generally awesome human, Bec, suggested that we should take advantage of his Mormonism and…wait for it….MARRY HIM! This is the best idea we’ve ever heard and have so far recruited Errol friendz Kaz and Anna to be our sister wives. We love big hair and pastel colours and communal kitchens. This can’t go wrong!

The Hopoate sister wives agree, their husband’s eyelashes really are spectacular.

And come on down, NSW’s new starting five-eighth!

Jamie Soward has long been an Errol fave. We didn’t come late to the party. We are always ahead of the pack, some may call us innovators, cultural zeitgeists and visionaries…. and we have to agree. Much like Uncle Wayne, we’ve always believed in Sowie’s ability. Unlike Uncle Wayne, we say things like ‘fuck all y’all haterz’ when he plays his heart out and proves bitches everywhere wrong.

We honestly don’t understand the Sowie hate. He is adorable. A bossy little bitch who kicks like an angel and yells at us for running in a water park (long story). The biggest criticism he cops is that he doesn’t run at the line enough. Or that when the game is on the line he doesn’t make the big plays. Well now…take one look at that try he set up for Mini and you tell us….IS THAT A LINE RUN OR WHAT? HUH? BIG PLAY YES? Yeh, thought so. Now all of you eat your words while we watch and clap with delight, confirming once again : we are always right.



Usually, this section would be about Greg Inglis.


But GI was surprisingly quiet last night. Quiet, and fumbly. Is he okay? (Serious question … is he?)

Machines don’t smile.

So instead, we’re gonna borrow a nickname from our idols Roy and HG, and give it to the the mighty Blues captain … O Gallen, our Captain!

We crown him the new Brick with Eyes. He’s completely rectangular and he can play Origin like a demon for a full 80 minutes. He is a straight up FREAK.

Last year (or maybe the year before, we’re bloggers not historians people!) in an argument about Toyota Park and the Sharks in general (you know we love hating them) we said the road to redemption for Gallen was to forget about the media and just focus on cleaning up his game on the field. He has. And he’s better, no? You don’t need to fuck around when you can play like that.

Luke Lewis agrees.


Or, 17 something blues. Plus Tommy Learoyd-Lahrs. And Ronnie Palmer. And Jim Dym .. LOOK WE’RE JUST REALLY PROUD. OF ALL OF YOU.

To paraphrase Mitchell Pearce, it was the one of the Best Origins EVER. Greg Bird was so happy! Anthony Watmough actually broke up a fight instead of starting one! Aku Uate ran the ball as hard as Paul Gallen! Trent Merrin existed and/or was adorable:

(that one’s from Gregg Porteous)

Next step: to win the series-slash-ruin Darren Lockyer’s farewell. Like that time we stopped Queensland getting a tropical holiday. Oh man that was sweet.

Here’s to New South Wales, bogans, pettiness and victory!

older posts


sassy’s grand final wrap-up: only one errol can win

October 5th, 2010

I won’t lie, there was a point – about 15 minutes into the second half of the grand final – where I cried. Not snotty Marley and Me-type crying. It was more a general Brett Morris-esque welling. I promised Kiki before the game that I wouldn’t weep, and I was determined to keep my promise. I’m nothing if not really petty and really stubborn.


By that point, all was lost and I knew it and it was heartbreaking. More than once I wished I was watching the game at home so at least I’d be able to listen to Rabs Warren commentate. His voice is just really comforting, and boy did I need comfort. Then Flossy Nightingale scored his second try and I got beer all done the back of my 2009 wooden-spoon jersey from over-excited Dragons fans and the sheer cold shock of being covered in mid-strength beer (they were fresh ones) snapped me back from the crying abyss.

So here’s how the game went down from our seats in the stratosphere.

The view from our seats: I should’ve known this was a bad omen.

SO MANY DRAGONS FANS. Those bitches was everywhere! And who was surprised? After last year, they had to Believe. Their team just had to transfer their skills into the finals series. On the other hand, as a Roosters fan, there’s a reason I didn’t have tickets: Because I’m not insane. I’m only that much of an optimist when I’m drunk or take a knock to the head.

I was expecting maybe … seventh or eighth for my boys. Knocked out first or second round of the finals at best. You know, something respectable, but not excessive. Something to inspire them to keep going for next year. Little did I know that Brian Smith – teeny tiny Smithy of the soothing voice and the dry, dry jokes – was a Rooster-whisperer and my team would start pulling Tigers-2005-style wins off as the season went on. It was like coming out of a hellish breakup (also knownas 2009) fat, acne-covered and depressed, and all of a sudden realising you’ve met the most perfect guy EVER. I was shocked and amazed and delighted.

Is it sad that I’m comparing my footy team to a boyfriend? Probably. But considering I spend Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights with football, it’s pretty accurate.

In the end, it turned out the 2010 Roosters/my new boyfriend weren’t going to have the whole fairytale package. They lost the grand final/he snores … but whatever. They made me happy, and I’m proud. And here’s why I think my babies couldn’t pull it off and Kiki’s dragons could.

GRAND FINALS NEED GRAND FINAL PERFORMANCES. I’m looking at you, Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. The Dragons left-side is always their go-to attack side (shout out to Brett Morris for making the Kangaroos side again!) but with Gasnier back they started moving the ball to Flossy on the right wing, and the Roosters were too tired/demoralised to keep him out. Flossy you little gun! We always believed in you! It totally helped that he wore his lucky boots: those black ones that make it look like he’s a little kid who forgot his boots and had to play in school shoes. Maybe he could get sponsored by Clarks?

Truthfully, we thought he’d take the Churchill medal, but it turns out Joyce still really loves fullbacks (remember her lolz quotes about Billy Slater?), and I’m pretty sure Flossy doesn’t give a shit anyway cause he’s a grand final-winner.

Instead, we got to see Darius Boyd give one of the most unintentionally nerdy speeches ever when he accepted the Clive Churchill. It started with him standing around awkwardly and yelling ‘WOOO!’ and ended with him saying “now let’s go party!” like an American frat boy. Oh, Darius. It was an appropriate speech to hear when the Whitest Team in the NRL had just won a grand final.

Darius bringin cool back to the locker room whut whut

(For the record, not saying they’re white supremacists n stuff, just that they’re literally WHITE. B.Moz, Hornbag, Benny Creagh, you see where I’m going. There’s a lot of milk in the Dragons fridge and not much coffee).

WHAT’S THAT WAYNE BENNETT QUOTE ABOUT A CHAMPION TEAM NOT A TEAM OF CHAMPIONS? Cause yeah … that. I thought Floss was the best on the field and the most improved on the field but I wouldn’t fault any of the others, bar a few rain-related mistakes. Dean Young killed it. Jeremy Smith killed it, while looking like even more of a complete babe than usual.

Exhibit A. Dean Young congratulates Jeremy Smith on winning a non-tainted premiership and being a dirty spunk.

Weyman killed it, while he was on the field. Which reminds me, I refuse to believe Daniel Conn came in with a swinging arm until I see it. I also plan to never watch the replay, so Daniel Conn is innocent. The end. QED.

And lastly, TWO HOOKERS ARE BETTER THAN ONE. At least that’s what Charlie Sheen says. Boom tish! With the beauty of hindsight, 80 minutes of Jake Friend was no match for Dean Young and Nathan Fien. They were too sharp and speedy and his defence got too soft. Sad but true. I wouldn’t say any of my boys had shockers. They just didn’t bring the spark: they were a six when – at times this year – they’ve been a nine. Two words: next year.


Wanna know WHAT WE DID?

The UDL really brings out Yassy’s classy side.

Through a massive stroke of luck, we had tickets to the game, and the always fabulous Yasmin came with us, even though her two favourite players Moonie Vanoodie and Jarrod Yee-Hah weren’t playing. It probably helped that she has dirty crushes on Todd Carney and Ben Creagh, though. She sat between us, and even let me lay my head on her shoulder in despair in the second half. Usually she doesn’t much care for being touched, so thank you Yas!

After the game, while the Indian Roosters fan in front of us openly wept and was consoled by his girlfriend, we decided the best way to celebrate Kiki’s win, drown my sorrows and avoid train queues was to head to the Olympic Park pub and drink UDLs and dance to a covers band. Nothing cures sadness like dancing to Footloose and some comforting hugs from random Roosters fans and kindly Dragons while Kiki can-can dances around the pub. The general theme of the night from Drags fans was: BUT YOU GUYS DID SO WELL THIS YEAR! CONGRATULATIONS!

Kiki’s Grand Final headpiece (she made it herself!) both entertained and confused drunk people.

Next stop: The Beach Road Hotel for Kiki to gloat at Roosters fans. The only problem was that everyone there was so pissed they thought she was wearing Roosters colours.

And lastly: a drink and a pizza with our mate Shorto from the Jacksonville Axemen. Love you Shorto! Say hi to your dad for us!

I can’t express how much I adore every single Rooster for rebuilding us back into a team to be proud of this year. They finished second but it’s not enough of a reward for everything they did. All I can say is that seeing this broke my heart. It hurt even more than seeing Fitzy leave for the English Super League with a wooden spoon and a 16-point loss to the Cowboys, urgh.

And just as I was about to fume about Mark Gasnier sailing back in to get a Premiership ring, he stepped in to comfort Frank-Paul the Wrecking Ball:

Two words: NEXT YEAR. Next year, my darlings.

All pics: Getty Images

older posts


all stars, all time

February 16th, 2010


How can we put into words just how freaking insanely AWESOME this game was? Admittedly, when it comes to footy, it doesn’t take us much to get excited. It doesn’t even have to be an actual game. We get footy thrills from just watching training, reading lolz articles, seeing photos of players we like in the paper (OMG GUYS PRESTON IS ON THE FRONT PAGE!!!), discussing fantasty football at length during plane rides, listening to Wes Carr’s ‘Woah’ on iTunes…..you get the idea.

As the above photo accurately portrays, when it comes to footy we are pretty much cats with a ball of yarn. EXCITING! FASCINATING! OCCUPIED FOR HOURS! But even our tragic league brains can recognise when something is universally amazing. And the All Stars game was. When non-footy people make a point of saying to us ‘wasn’t that game brilliant?’ you know it’s hit a nerve.

Shout out to our gorgeous friend Eddie, who is a recent footy convert….she watched it alone at home back in Sydney and sent us endless text messages like “Ummmm I keep tearing up. What is wrong with me??” and “Ooooh Sam Burgess is hot!“. Considering she doesn’t even like guys, that’s a pretty big compliment for Sam.

All this excitement, AND  we got to hang out at the NRL’s One Community stand before the game and people…WE MET HEALTHY HAROLD. Yes, the giraffe that came to our primary schools and taught us about healfy fings. In a caravan. Everyone knows any message spread inside a caravan is one worth spreading. Together with Harold and Mario Fenech we challenged kids to making funny faces with fruit, vegies and wholegrain tortillas. Yes, you read that right.

After spending the week in the Goldy and meeting so many Indigenous people involved in the game, players, management and fans, watching the game took on a whole new significance for us. Not to get all political or anything, but when the amazing dancers were performing, we marvelled at the fact Indigenous culture is still so strong and so proud, after White Australia has had more than a few cracks at destroying it.


The feeling in the stadium was something we’ve never experienced before. It made Origin look understated and passionless. We will straight up admit : shit got emotional. There was definitely goosebumps and we had to literally choke back tears a few times during the night. Please don’t point out that we are weird or creepily and suddenly attached to a people and culture that are not our own, WE KNOW, WE KNOW. You just can’t help how ya feel, okay?

We won’t go through the game play by play, because we know you all watched it for yourselves, but our highlights include – Wendell’s beautiful try and his hysterical didgeredoo routine afterwards, youngin Blake Ferguson chasing down Izzy Folau to save a try, Corey Patterson’s MASSIVE hit on Kurt Gidley (we swear you could hear that oooooof noise up the other end of the field) and best of all, Errol fave Tiny Dancer Soward scoring that absolute ripper of a try to win the game. SO.FREAKING.GOOD.

Oh, also? Matt Cooper in an entirely white uniform was pretty sweet too.

Much fun was had post game too. Including –

– the fact that we were so proud that we were in the same room Wayne Bennett for hours without accosting him … until Kiki’s liquid courage kicked in and she trotted over to introduce herself. The result? UNCLE WAYNE SMILED. For realz. She also showed him her beloved Dragons necklace (that she never takes off) and he said it was … wait for it … “adorable”. Yes people, Uncle Wayne used the word adorable. We are still speechless.

(She also may or may not have put her back out while performing her OMGZ I JUST MET GOD dance for a group of people. It’s still sore.)

– Sassy finding herself in a Serious Discussion about what would be the best approach to coaching a forward like Sam Burgess with Brad Fittler and Telegraph journo Andrew Webster. All she could offer was ‘ummmmmm … did you know I once coached a fantasy team?’

– a rugby league legend helpfully telling us if we wanna be on TV, we have to ‘tone the hair down … you have TOO MUCH HAIR’. Also ‘you have beautiful faces! The hair is a distraction!’. Easily the weirdest and loliest moment of our week, possibly our lives. Kiki had to talk down Sassy from marching over and telling him it’s Queensland, mate! You try keeping your curls under control in this kind of humidity. GOD.

(He had clearly been to one of those management courses where they teach you how to give advice without offending people by MAKING SURE YOU THROW IN A COMPLIMENT. “Girls! You have too much hair … um, but you’re beautiful too. Please don’t hit me” – Sass)

– Kiki finally fulfilling her aim of the week, and getting her hug from Jamal Idris.  And by ‘getting’, we mean she stormed up to him purposefully, yelled JAMAL I AM YOUR BIGGEST FAN I HAVE TO HUG YOU and launched herself at him. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be too bothered by her creepiness.

– Kiki then asking Jamal if his acting ambitions are for real, or were they a media beat up. His answer? He really, truly wants to be an actor. We could not love him more.

And with that, the best week ever was over and we were relegated to being sad pandas. The countdown to All Stars II has begun. Bring it on!

We want to say big BIG thankyous to the NRL, especially Trish, Janelle, Jodie and Nish. And much love to DG, DT and John B, thanks for for the encouragement and support boys! Also thanks to Jason from the Titans, Phil, Chris and the boys from the NSW U16’s Indigenous team. And of course to all the players who were very generous and gracious all week.

older posts


swine flu and jumping castles: sassy's dally m recap

September 13th, 2009

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.




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

older posts


women in league round – the power of pink

June 16th, 2009



Miss me? Thought youse did! God knows I haven’t blogged in awhile. To be honest, I’ve had an existential crisis of sorts. Okay ‘existential crisis’ makes it sound all intellectual and life changing. Basically I’ve been wearing my velour dressing gown more than usual and shuffling around the house thinking SHIT SHIT SHIT I CAN’T WRITE ANYMORE.

Anyway, what better week to make my return than the deliciously pink Women in League Round? YAY! I suprisingly enough, love love love pink! As has been well established on Errol, I am not all that girlie. In fact the other day my hair dresser described me as a ‘sporty tomboy’. Which is completely lolz because the last time I did something even remotely sporty was get hit in the head with a footy in Year 9. Fuck me sideways ,that HURT. To this day whenever I’m at a game and someone kicks for touch I dive for cover under Sassy’s fro. Fro of steel!


Anyway, I can’t walk in heels, I sit with my legs open like a dude and I reguarly find unintentional dreadlocks in my hair but godamn I love the colour pink. In fact I’m writing this blog from my delightfully pink laptop right now. So needless to say I am all over the idea of a whole WEEK of pink! Especially when it benefits breast cancer research. Some heinous cynics have dismissed it as a ‘marketing exercise’. Well to put it as eloquently as I can…STUFF THEM.

How can anyone hate on this? I mean really. It’s giant boofy football players with PINK FACIAL HAIR. This shit is amazing. We can’t decide which one is our fave! Love Hall for his finite work on the goatee, Stewart for the fact he came up with the idea and Robbo because it’s just so damn ironic. Robbo is the sad clown of the NRL (have you noticed how completely maudlin he looks on the field this year?) and seeing him sporting something so ridiculous has made our year.

And of course, rugby league’s most famous beard had to get involved.


In fact there’s not much ‘The Wolfman’ ISN’T involved in at the moment. Bitch is everywhere. We are considering requesting some sort of finders fee from his manager, for realz. We discovered his awesome in 08 literally months before the mainstream media. Godamnit, it’s rough being ahead of the curve.

As you can see, in his quest to become the cheesiest player in the NRL, he not only pinked up his beard also inexplicably dyed his moustache jet black. WHY DAVID, WHHYYYY?? The bright pink beard wasn’t crazy enough for you? Oh, honey….no. Lucky we love you.

All that aside, huge Errol props the Manly boys for sacrificing vanity for a good cause.

Now onto the Panthers. I knew they were going to wear pink uniforms this week but godammmmmn they were PINK. Jerseys, shorts, socks, shoes…even headgear.Everything was pink. It was a team of straight up MUSK STICKS.

Matt Muskington sucessfully makes his debut for the Penrith Panthers

Not only did the Panties rock out in glaring pink, they also grew beards to raise awareness for breast cancer research. Whoever came up with this idea – you are Awesome. And yes it deserves capitalisation. Because if there’s anything we love more than a footy player with a beard, it’s a footy player with an altruistic beard.

Without such charitable exercises how would we know that youngins like Wade Graham can suprisingly cultivate such luxurious beards? And how would we know who Shane Elford was? Never noticed him when he was clean shaven, but as soon as his beard started to come through HELLLOOOO LOVER.

(Yes I could have picked a photo of WG with his tongue actually in his mouth….. but it’s funnier this way. Sorry, Wade.)

Sadly for my tips, the Panthers lost. But it did mean I got to giggle at Daniel Mifsud’s cheap jokes about the ‘pink panties going down’. Hehe…panties. (yes THAT Mifsud)


Now, onto the Most Lovably Awesome Team In The Universe, the mighty mighty Dragons! WHEEEEE! My babies busted out the Pink V once again to honour both women in league, and the Joanne McKay Foundation. Last time they wore the pink I made some predictably distasteful jokes about lady vees. This year I have decided to class it up a bit. Okay, that’s a lie….I just don’t like to recycle jokes. UNLIKE YOU WIL ANDERSON.

Sometimes I think the Dragons sit around and think up ways to make me love them even MORE. Shit is getting ridiculous. As if my boys playng brilliantly in baby pink wasn’t enough, the adorable bitches decided to kick it up a notch with a giant on field love in. Look at that photo! It’s like pure distilled joy! HOT BITCH COOPER IS SMILING. He never smiles! (Notice the ass grab on B.Moz. Respect Coops, respeecccct.)

In fact, my teams display of public affection has inspired me. I am going to launch a range of romantic greeting cards with their images on the front. Oh Kiki, you’re crazy you say? Oh no….no I ain’t. Check this shit out.


Oh yeh, I am gonna be so rich.

Massive love to the NRL, One Community and everyone involved in the Women in League initative. It actually lasts until the end of June, and we have been invited as guests of the CRL to a dinner on Wednesday night to further celebrate the contribution of women to the game.

We have it on good authority that the NSW Blues may be there. I can’t promise I won’t get drunk, latch onto Justin Poore’s ankle and scream PLS DON’T LEAVE THE DRAAGGGOOOONS. Personally, I think dragging me along behind him as he tries to escape would make for excellent strength training. Yep.

(Pics from Getty Images, League HQ and the wonderful BS)

older posts


dragons vs roosters: the anzac day that wasn't

April 28th, 2009




Well I was sick. Last week. BIG TIMES. Something weird is going on. Either Greg Inglis is still working that Kiki voodoo doll or I seriously fucked someone over in a previous life. I’m gonna blame GI. Why? Because I can.

(Yes … that is me in a Dragons sleeping bag photoshopped into a hospital bed, well spotted readers.Well spotted.)

So last Tuesday night I felt a bit icky but powered on with Important Errol Business. Then I started vomming and didn’t stop for 7 hours. I ended up being rushed to the Emergency Room so I didn’t like, die from dehydration, or whatever it is that happens when you vom for 7 hours straight. I had an IV and about 25.7 litres of fluids and lots of drugs I can’t pronounce.

It was very Hollywood dramz. I was tres shitty I forgot to take my phone so I could be all Solange Knowles and update Twitter on my sicky adventures. Needless to say it was scary and upsetting and really gross. The most horrific thing about the whole experience was when the nurse WEIGHED ME. As if I wasn’t traumatised enough now I have climb on the bloody scales. Bastards.


I left with a truly disgusting bruise on my hand from the IV needle thingy and that’s it. They didn’t even hook me up with some sweet painkillers. I swear, what is the point of private health care if I don’t get mind altering drugs? Outrage! Joke! FARCE!

ANYWAY I struggled through the rest of the week (thank god I work from home in my PJ’s, oh the life of a professional blogger) hoping to get better for the Most Important Day of the Year aka ANZAC Day. In all seriousness, I hold ANZAC Day really close to my heart. It’s one of the only things I take seriously. It is a beautiful beautiful day and it makes me so incredibly proud to be Australian.

I love the solemn reflective mornings and the raucous two-up fuelled afternoons. As if that wasn’t brilliant enough, my beloved Dragons play the Chookies. I had an awesome day lined up. But my body said NO WAY KIKIPANTS. So I spent the day at home instead. BOOOOO. Thankfully Sassy came to visit me. I even put on actual pants for her. Okay, thats a lie. But I did put on a bra. Damnit….that’s a lie too.


Soooooo … THE DRAGONS WON! HOORAY! Obviously they heard I was rather poorly and decided to put on a winning performance for me. Right? Do it for the little girl in hospital, boys! Well at least Tiny Dancer Soward did, and thank god for that because that teeny package of awesome won us the game. Really, he did. 21 points all by himselfs! SOWIE KAPOWIE!

As the above picture clearly portrays, the Dragons were scarily awesome, Benny was at the helm creating fire with his bare hands and I was happy happy happy. I considered not labelling the pathetic corpsey bones as the Roosters to spare Sassy’s feelings … for about 2 seconds. HAH!

The game started off in the best way possible. One minute in and our beloved B.Moz pumps those impossibly long legs and goes over for a try! I leapt from the lounge and found myself upright for the first time all week. B.Moz cured me! He should start blessing water and shit. Get on that champ.


I deeply enjoy starting the game with a nice lil try. You know, despite what you read in Cosmo, sometimes a girl likes a bit of satisfication within the one minute mark. Just sayin.

Meanwhile I look over and Sassy was hiding under my dogs blanket. She knew it was gonna be a looooong afternoon. I kept reminding her although they may suck, at least her boys looked resplendent in their special ANZAC edition baby blue jerseys. Really, they look so pretty!

I could detail all the awes things the Dragons did (although there was still a few silly mistakes I’m not happy with, I’m sure Wayne is on that though) but let’s cut to the chase. The best thing about this game by far was the fully fledged return of Flossy Nightingale.YAAAAAY! Not only did he score a try, the adorable bitch busted out his best puppy dog cuteness on a scale not seen since 2008.


We here at Errol call him ‘the labrador of rugby league’. He just REALLY.LOVES.PLAYING.FOOTY. Obviously alot of players emote when they score tries, but what other player smiles whilst just … on the field? When Tiny Dancer busted through the line and scored that sweet sweet try Flossy just ran alongside him. Smiling, cheering and being a lovable little cheerleader. He just loves life. Life and footy and fun times! And we reckon he’s thought about licking people’s faces more than once. For the record Floss-Floss, you can lick my face anytime. WHO’S A GOOD BOYYYY?


Sup? Nothin…just warmin up my tongue.

Another highlight of the game was the way Sowie Kapowie popped over that cheeky field goal just before half time. No particular reason, just because he could. You know, the way I technically don’t have to write blogs for Errol but I do. Me and Tiny Dancer showin off our mad skillz just coz we caaaaan. WHAT WHAAAAT.

I kept waiting for the Chookies to score a try. Obviously I didn’t want them to win, but I wanted to see some semblance of a smile from Sassy. Truth be told she is kind of completely terrifying when the Roosters suck, I still haven’t recovered from the way she let loose after the Tigers game a few weeks back. We both looked expectantly at the TV … surely they must? Soon … it’s coming … almost … nope. Oh dears.

They finished the game at zip. Zero, nada, nothin … donut.


Mmmm….donut. If only the Chookies were covered in pink icing and sprinkles, I might like them a bit more. Just a suggestion.

pic – Anthony Johnson, LeagueHQ

older posts


footy observations- tap arse, biff and white shorts

April 16th, 2009

Last weekend’s footy was a veritable festival of lolz. The Lolz Festival! I would totally go to that. Who am I kidding, I would be straight out performing. No…HEADLINING. Youse are all invited backstage of course. Together we will make that rider our bitch.

Err anyway, because Sassy and I are literally married we have a system where we support each others teams. She has been to the last few Dragons games with me, so this last Friday it was my turn to accompany her to watch the Chooks.  We proceeded to get quite drunk at our friend’s BBQ (hi Denee!) then tottled off to the footy.


To put it mildly, what a crap game. The atmosphere was non existent (sup cricket crowd!) and the first half was like watching a reggies match. The Chooks served up some of their trademark ridiculousness, including a player getting up to play the ball to no one, looking around to find a guy behind him….who was also looking around searching for someone. I squealed in horror and spilt my drink. THANKS CHOOKS. Those drinks deadset cost 15 dollars.

Meanwhile I spent most of the game trying to figure out how to get live scores from the Dragons game on my fone. I gave up and went back to the BBQ, hopped on Denee’s laptop and was delighted to see my babies came up with a win. Not a huge suprise, but god knows I love seeing the boys on the top of the table. I even did my Top Of The Table Dance which is basically star jumps until I get buggered and fall on the floor clutching my side in pain.


In natural light, Kiki’s bronzer looked decidedly greenish

Afterwards we walked stumbled down to the Leagues Club to meet some of the Bondi Rescue boys for a drink (I know, I know, we are such total celebs. Autograph line to left…). After way too many Smirnoff Blacks we decided it would be an awesome idea to accost poor Shaun Kenny-Dowall and ask him vitally important questions like ‘SKD! WHY DID U WEAR THONGS IN YOUR GODS OF FOOTBALL SHOOT? IS IT COZ YOU’RE SCARED OF GETTING TINEA?’

To his credit, he was very gracious and tolerant of our crazy. Also, we would like to apologise for terrorising some of the baby Chooks. Specifically to Sandor Earl for bringing up trimmed man pubes in our first ever conversation.

Back to the Dragons. Sadly Hot Bitch Cooper is STILL out, but obviously Channel 9 read Errol (well duh, who doesn’t) and decided to give me some sideline action to soothe my pain.


Joey – So Coops, how does it feel when Kiki violates you on the internet?
Hot Bitch – Yeh mate…not bad. Wish she would stop doing that heavy breathing thing on my voicemail though.

Tiny Dancer Soward continues to be an amazing human. Going great guns for the Drags, and more importantly for our beloved fantasy teams. His pre goal kicking dance routine is one of the top 5 greatest things about league. Like, ever. Obviously the Parra crowd doesn’t think so, those bitches were all up his business with their boos. Poor ignorant people. Everyone knows you do NOT interrupt Sowie Kapowie.



Sassy and I also watched the Cowboys v Titans. We don’t really care about either team, we just didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to watch not one but TWO teams in white shorts. Specially when said teams include Willy Zilly, John John and Luke O’Donnell. Granted, it did take us approximately 20 mins to figure out why the Cowboys looked to be playing in the Newtown Jets strip (hehe…strip), but it was totally worth it.

Onto Monday night footy. I tipped the Bunnies because well… it was Easter. Flawless logic right? WRONG. DAMN YOU RABBITOHS. Thankfully though, this game delivered two things I love: biff and lolz.

The biff was….okay, I wasn’t watching that closely. I’m still not quite sure what started it. But it sure escalated into something kind of amazing pretty quickly. Nothing says celebrating the resurrection of Christ like fisticuffs on the footy field right? We were delighted to see the muchly adorable Benny Lowe right in the middle of it. The man has curls, a sweet tan, great pins and most importantly…dimples. Clearly a new Errol fave.


This brawl’s for you, Jesus!

And then there were the lolz. These lolz stemmed from severe embarassment. Which everyone knows is the best kind of lolz. As the boys ran on for half time, a rain soaked Andy Raymond informed us that Ben Hannant wouldn’t be returning for awhile because he had a, and I quote, “case of the runs”. Oh….my god. As if tap arse isn’t embarassing enough on it’s own, now the poor bloke has to have it reported as news on national television.


Because my brother and I are basically 12 yr olds, we dissolved into a fit of giggles and started imagining if Hannant shat his pants whilst on the field. Would he have to go to the….Shit Bin? Would the ref stop the game? YOU…HANNANT..SHIT BIN! GET YOURSELF CLEANED UP! Would the trainers whack him in an adult diaper, give him a change of shorts and send him back on out there? Or maybe even…stitch his ass up?

And on that charming note, I’ll see you next week.

Screencaps from the awesome BS. Shooshing the crowd joke unashamedly stolen from Lozzy.

older posts


dragons vs broncos – the shambles recap

April 10th, 2009


Okay it’s official, I am a crap person.

All week I’ve been planning to do the Most Awesome Post Ever on the amazingness that was Dragons v Broncos last Friday. And well, I just haven’t got round to it. I’m sure you are all terribly upset (“I’m not even mad, just disappointed…”) but you’re just gonna have to make do with this shambles of a post.

So now you are just getting the vitally important bits. And by vitally important I mean ‘stuff I find amazing and lolz’.


Despite his assertions that this game was no different from any other, you just know Benny was freaking out during the lead up. Well as much as he can freak out, which probably entails a slightly raised eyebrow and maybe an extra sip of his scotch and dry during happy hour at the leagues club.

[… or his lemon lime and bitters? I think I remember from the Uncy Wayne Australian Story that he is a teetotaller, although to be honest I was crying like a bitch about 5 minutes into it, so I could be wrong. IT WAS JUST REALLY EMOTIONAL. I LOVE YOU UNCLE WAYNE – Sassy]

And well, he kicked ass. And even more importantly – he emoted. I know you Broncos fans will go to your graves thinking his blood runs maroon and gold, but kids let me ask you this … did Uncy Wayne ever smile this way when coaching your team?


Yep, didn’t think so. Not only is he smiling, but the notoriously media shy Benny is well…well he’s posing for a glamour shot. I like to think donning the red and white has infused him with a new sense of self confidence. Bitch thinks he’s a sexy motherfucker! You just know he’s strutting around his bedroom, practicing poses and belting out Destinys Child lyrics.

Yes Wayne, I think we ARE ready for this jelly


Okay, I’m prepared to admit it. I was a complete and utter MESS this game. I know I’ve said it a million times but I am not a particularly emotional person. I don’t get stressed all that easily and I think most people would describe me as at least moderately laid back. But not when the Dragons play.

I become a whole other person. To be honest, shit is scary.

This game was extra special. The Broncs have been playing some awesome football, and even though they are totally our bitches and we had beat them in the last 7 games (and now it’s 8/8! yessss!) I was still really goddamn nervous. I guess I wanted Benny and the boys to prove they are true premiership contenders. My Red V clad heart was literally beating out of my chest the entire time. I was pretty much a Warner Bros cartoon come to life.


Consequently, I spent the entire game in two positions. A) lying on the lounge in the fetal position covering my eyes, shuddering in fear and B) leaping off the lounge and performing my patented ‘we just scored a try’ routine. Which involves a victory dance that resembles a mutated irish jig, thrusting excitedly into thin air, and yelling SUCK IT BRONCOOOOS while giving the double rudey finger to the TV. God, I wish I was joking.

I am ashamed to admit this, but when Brisbane made that mini comeback just outside the 70th minute, I totally lost my nerve and developed a sudden urge to go and return a DVD. Yes kids, I literally left the house, got into my car and drove away. I hate myself.


Oh my, I don’t think I’ve ever been this proud of my boys. Sure we have won games before, but this one was different. Even Gus Gould announced it felt like an Origin match. That’s exactly how it felt. So tense, so full on, so fucking satisfying.


Let’s do a roll call, shall we?

BEN CREAGH – Look, we are just totally enamoured with this man. He embodies toughness. He never talks himself up, never plays dirty, he is just always THERE. Ready for the hit up, ready to make the big tackle and ready to roll over the defence and score a sweet sweet try. Not to mention he did all that on Friday night with a BROKEN NOSE. Bitch could only breathe through his mouth but did he ask to come off? Nope. It’s all the way with Benny Creagh!

[I think that slogan is some of my best work … thanks to ‘All the way with’ Stephanie Kaye from Degrassi for giving me the idea. Am seriously considering making an all the way with Benny Creagh sign for the next Drags game – S]

MICHAEL WEYMAN – Shit has this guy been a great buy or what? Used to love watching him punch on whilst at the Raiders. Obvs Wayne doesn’t put up with that silly bizness so now he’s just channelling his rage into making speedhumps out of the opposition. I cannot believe the man is only 24. To quote Michael K from Dlisted “That is some Benjamin Buttons shit!”.

JAMIE SOWARD – A long time Errol favourite, Tiny Dancer’s awesomness is finally coming to the attention of others. We couldn’t be happier for him! Scored a cracker of a try, had a brilliant kicking game and generally lead the team around like the little general he is. Well deserved Man of The Match. Extra points for leaving his head gear on during the interview. Heart.

BEAU SCOTT – I’ve always had a soft spot for Beau. His unexpected work in the centres in the past few weeks has been a revelation. Best moments on Fri night? Setting up that try for Dell, and sledging his heart out at any opportunity. He’s such a little shit and I love it.

BRETT MORRIS – Yaaaaaaaaay! Do we really need to say anything here? You people have eyes right? B.Moz had a cracker. That try was just….wow. Yet more proof that as soon as we write about someone, their awesomness increases exponentially. Science, just is etc etc


WENDELL SAILOR – Just when I think Big Dell couldn’t possibly get more amazing, he proves me wrong. He is one of the most marvelous humans to ever exist and no one will ever convince me any different. The Broncos crowd booed him every time he got the ball. What was Dell’s response? To score an awe inspiring try and kick the ball into the crowd. The exact crowd that were booing him. HE IS SO FUCKING INCREDIBLE.

Also, his constant sledging of the oppositon is something to behold. I think Antonio Winterstein actually shit his pants. Awesome.

PS – Did you know his middle name is JERMAINE? Wendell Jermaine. Holy shit that is great.



Okay I’ve been watching footy for a bloody long time but I can honestly never remember seeing a player hanging in the coaches box the way Hot Bitch Cooper was. You know, just chillin with rugby league’s greatest coach. As you do. I literally got text messages from about 8 different people like ‘omg! kiki! hot bitch in the coaches box!’. OH I KNOW KIDS, I KNOOOOOW.

Sadly my man Coops is out with a dodgy hammy until Anzac Day, so I had resigned myself to weeks without his hotness gracing my TV. Obviously he could sense my despair so he rocked out some patented Hot Bitch intensity to cheer me up.


Channel 9 ….you better be getting this shit. Kiki says it’s my best side.


Oooooh hello…. I look pretty good from this angle too. Sweet.

Watching the interaction between UW and HB made me realise Coops could totally be assistant coach when (if?) he retires from footy. Actually judging from his perfect physique, he should actually be a conditioning coach. YESSS! After he’s finished with the boys, the Dragons will be an entire team of Hot Bitches. Oooooh mercy.

A particularly pervy Dragons fan on League Unlimited announced ‘Kiki, now all you have to do is make it into the top 17 and Cooper can condition you….up and dooooown’.

This is literally the best idea I have ever heard. I reckon I can carry it off too. I will be like Amanda Bynes in She’s The Man! Strap my boosies down, whack on an awes boys wig and rock up to training. OH HAI I’M TOTES UR NEW WINGER!


I can’t believe I’m going to admit to this (publicly), but one time I actually got mistaken for a boy.Yup.

Cracked out homeless dude – “Excuse me sir, do you have some spare change?”

Me – “………………….”

In my defence I was wearing no make up, ripped boys jeans, an old baggy vintage t shirt and newsboy cap. BUT STILL. GODDAMNIT.

Errrr anyway back to HB + UW. Did you see them….touching? Cynics will tell you it was a handshake, I say it’s the touch of two men about to invest in a Best Friends Forever necklace.


You heard it here first.

(Screencaps thanks to the lovely BS, he always gets us the good stuff. We love him. Go check his blog pls)

older posts


footy observations: fishies in water

April 7th, 2009

So we’re officially back in footy season, hurrah! And obviously we don’t just bring you our incredibly informative game recaps, we also like to hook you up with what the teams get up to at training and recovery. 

If nothing else, it should help you with your tips.

You certainly shouldn’t listen to me and my ‘intuition’, because after round 4 I am now sitting on an average of just over four correct tips a week.  Four!  Out of Eight!  

Do you know what that means? It means that my brain … my human brain, that biological miracle, that unbelievably complex labyrinth of nerve and synapse; when it comes to tipping, using my brain is pretty much as effective as using a coin.  My brain is no smarter than a small round disc made of brass. True story.

Anyway. Last week it was all about the water recovery session. And I’ve realised you can pretty much track the boys progress by their water sessions. Check out the Raiders last week rocking out in the Canberra aquatic center:

Is T Camps … singing? Why I do believe he is. Just bustin out a few showtunes as he jogs around the lap pool. Washing away the memory of getting beaten by the Eels and that bitch of a ref who disallowed their AWESOME split-scrum try.

And just look at the boys rocking out in the background.  For some reason we especially love the thought of Trevor Thurling joining in.  Or as some of our fans like to call him, Sexmachine Trevor Thurling.

There really IS nothin like a dame!

End result: a reinvigorated attack and glorious victory over the Cowboys down in Canberra.

Compare and contrast Boromir from Lord of the Rings Nathan Hindmarsh over at the Eels’ recovery:

No one ever wants to re-enact Grease with me.

… and if they do I never get to be Kenicki.

and the happy-clappy Roosters having superfuntimes rolling around on the grass at Moore Park:

How happy is Shaun Kenny-Dowall?  He just REALLY LOVES ROLLING.  I tried so so hard to stay pissed off at the Roosters after their loss to the Tigers, then I saw this and … I can’t stay mad at you babies.  Especially you Shaun Kenny-Dowall.  I adore him.  I have no idea why, I JUST DO.  

We even have a special Errol nickname for him that I’m only allowed to yell from the sideline and not allowed to say on Errol.  The girls have forbidden me, because … well because it sounds kind of offensive.  But I swear I SAY IT WITH LOVE.

And the point is this: when the miserable pool-going Parra came up against the We!Love!Rolling! Roosters at the SFS, the Roosters took those bitches down.  A happy team is a winning team. It’s just Fact. You can’t argue with science!

So I’m going to save you, oh, about 2 seconds indecision, and tell you not to waste your money on the Sharks this weekend. Bitches are miserable. Just look at them:

Toops looks like he really regrets not being able to stick with the Roosters and roll his cares away. He is so going home to eat an entire cheesecake and pass out in a food coma in his boxers. Ben Pomeroy also probably has several bruises.

The Pom has difficulty walking with flippers. Even though the flippers aren’t on his feet.

And I’m gonna put my money on the Dragons too. For one thing because Jamie ‘Tiny Dancer’ Soward and Baby Chase Stanley look like happy little kids out there on their surfboards. But also because Lozzy might cut me if I don’t.

You see Jamie Soward has worked his mojo on Lozzy. He won her over with his cheeky grin and the little dance he does before he kicks for goal.  You know the one: the chicken dance in a circle, followed by the march, the pause, and the little prance as he kicks.  The one Phil Gould describes as ‘like my cat about to do a shit’. Why do you think we call him Tiny Dancer?

Well it seems Tiny Dancer is rapidly catching up to T Camps as her favourite footy player, and I always have to support the girls’ teams. I’m a good friend like that.

older posts


maaaaaad monday!

July 22nd, 2008

So as I said previously, I am not going to recap this game. However, too much awesome dramaaaz occured for me to ignore it completely.

First of all, let us talk about my boys sporting a pink V. Oh, they looked so LOVELY. Just lovely. The pink V has magical powers because one look at Gasnier in his and the palpable rage I feel for him quickly dissipated.

I did however notice he was a total man island in the changeroom. Everyone was totally ignoring him, even his former husband Hot Bitch Cooper. THEY BE PISSED AT YOU GAZ. By the way, Hornbag is totally Unimpressed by your contributions to the proceedings.

Now lets talk about Hot Bitch in his pink V. Ooooooh mama. On anyone else, pink seems to subdue masculinity, softening it into something benevolent and approachable. Not our Hot Bitch. The juxtaposition of pink on a man stallion of Cooper’s calibre was something quite remarkable. The pink somehow managed to make him seem more virile. I didn’t know that was even possible, but it is. He prowled that field like a lion in the savannah. All rippling muscles, manly potency and carefully controlled aggression. Lets not even talk about when it STARTED TO RAIN. It made my pink V really really happy. See what I did there? Made a dirty joke! Because Pink V is a metaphor for vagina. GET IT?

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Okay lets talk about Mick Crocker. Forget headgear, the man needs to invest in a helmet for game days. He is way beyond modern aerodynamic cycling helmets. Mick has suffered so many brain injuries he needs help from the 1980s. Bitch needs a Stack Hat.

While we are talking about Crocker’s head, lets discuss what in Gods name is up with his hair. There is alot of balding men in the NRL, but Crocker doesn’t fit easily into that category. I don’t even think he’s balding. This is an entire new strain of hair weirdness. I have never seen hair like his on another man. Ever ever ever. Let us carefully and professionally examine this oddity –

There is only one conclusion. He suffers from chronic hair thinness and has sought to rectify the situation by using hair in a can. Thankyou Jerome Russell! Sorry Mick baby, but you’re gonna have to surrender your hair to airport security when you leave for England in 09. You know full well aerosols aren’t permitted on international flights.

Ryles getting sent off. Oh dear, Gavin Badger…you really are a twat of epic proportions aren’t you? Referee boss Robert Finch has already come out and said you were wrong, so lucky for you I am going to skip chastising you for now. Thank your lucky stars because I was totally gonna hurt you with my words of poison. Poison words!

Okay, so onto the fight. FIIIIIIIGGGGHT! I love fights. I love how quickly a civilised, professional game of rugby league can descend into mob violence. It makes me happy in my soul. And last nite was an absolute doozy. This shit was Origin worthy. It even had stages, three of them. The whole thing still seems surreal to me. Out of all the people to be involved in biff I cannot believe that it involved Tiny Dancer Soward, Flossy Nightingale and Billy I-Love-Pony-Club Slater. REALLY? You guys? REALLLY??

The best thing about this fight was the fact that PonyClub Slater rushed in from across the field to defend his boyfriend Cooper Cronk. Ain’t nobody be messin with my maaaans! (In my mind he’s a ghettofied black woman). Yes Billy, god forbid the tiny tiny Jamie Soward object to your boyfriend being a dirty little niggler. OH NOES!

You know Billy spent the whole time in the sin bin filing his ghetto nails and combing his fierce weave. Trust.

The second best thing about this dramaz is the way Hot Bitch Cooper stepped in and tried to break it up. Oh, that Coops, hes so measured in his responses. No flying off the handle for this perfect specicmen of a man. Oh no. Together with Hornbag he calmly and steadily grabbed players and steered them away from the fracas. And they obeyed him. Who wouldn’t?

My league loving friend Alex (hi boofhead!) sent me a text saying something like “look at Cooper breaking up the fight. He has such….presence”. Yeh, thats totally straight man code for I WOULD BEND OVER FOR MATT COOPER. It’s okay Alex, we all would.

(The magnificence above is thanks to our new account at Getty Images. I don’t want even want to say how much we paid for it. Lets just say when I turn it into a doona cover it will be totally worth it.)

older posts

next page of posts