pic: News Ltd/Gregg Porteous

First of all, right now I kind of feel like a bride who’s spent months in a wedding haze and, now that whole thing’s over, has seeped into a deep black hole of sadness. I DIDN’T KNOW THE OFF SEASON WOULD FEEL THIS SHIT. It’s like being given a puppy, bonding with it and laughing at the silly things it does for months, and then having it snatched away.

but whats i do withouts mah boys?

My post-Grand Final winners buzz is totally dampened by the fact that I MISS THE BOYS ALREADY. I spent Monday afternoon furiously checking Getty Images and HotAussieFootyPlayersShirtless for updates on the celebrations, and I think I’ve read every article on LeagueHQ today in an attempt to fill the void. I’M CHASING THE DRAGON. I NEED A FIIIIIIIIX *licks bathroom floor*

Aside from that, GO MANLY GOOOOOO. Not only was my first footy game EVER a free trip to see my own babies play, they also…well, do I even need to say it? Ok yes, yes I do. 40 NIL PEOPLE. FOR…TY…NIL.

pic: News Ltd/Gregg Porteous

Apparently I am also some kind of amazing prophet, because I started celebrating the gigantic win 24 hours before it happened. I just like to get things done, ok? (I was going to say ‘on top of things’ but John John was sniggering before I even typed ‘of’). I think all I really need to say here is that I was refused entry at The Judgy. But hey, at least I wasn’t partying in a wolf mask *cough*

We decided to reward our staff with a little Errol outing to the Big Game – it’s good for office morale, plus we needed a few sets of arms to fetch our snacks/throw things at Storm fans. So on Sunday we all climbed into the Errol Bus (which in case you’re wondering is exactly like the Priscilla bus but unfortunately with way less drag queens. Pretty much the same amount of disco and sequins though), strapped Lachie into his booster seat and then had to turn around when we realised John John wasn’t wearing any pants. Obviously we’re more than pleased to let him run free and nakey around the office, but we just can’t deal with having an intern in troubz for indecent exposure.

It’s safe to say that since I began my GF day vomming in a garden at the Crowne Plaza* (soz guys! thanks for the hospitality!) my perception of the game happening right in front of me was…cloudy. Nothing angers me more than the whole ‘girls can’t understand the rules’ notion, and I don’t want to encourage it, but shit I was disorientated. Was that a try? Is that one of our players or Melbourne? Why won’t my camera zoom in close enough for arse shots? I NEED COMMENTARYYYYYY. I think next time I’m taking a portable radio with me. Or Sassy and Kiki, which is kind of the same thing but heaps better.

But even with a vicious hangover, not knowing where to look to follow the game properly and being pissed off at the general public – not that they were anything but lovely from what I encountered (oh, except for the guys behind me who apparently turned up thinking some teams named ‘stand up and yell at your mate across the stadium’ and ‘hi i’m a drunk who just fell on you and didn’t apologise’ were playing), I just don’t like people very much – IT WAS SO FUN.

pic: silvertails.net

I was so caught up in the general vibe I didn’t even notice how bad the ‘entertainment’ was. For serious, I read the paper on Monday and was like “oh shit, a bbq routine?”. AND I didn’t even feel any hate towards Storm fans – even the girl next to us decked out in head to toe purple who apparently kept yelling ‘Billlyyyyyyyyyyy’ I was oblivious to. Where my good friend and Oh Errol/Manly supporter Bel heard Billy, I heard ‘yaaaaay football!’.

We even, in a rare display of goodwill, picked two Storm fans up on the way there and shared the most awkward car ride in history. I suppose I could’ve made it less awkward by you know, talking to them, but at that point I was still unable to form sentences.

Ok, so it wasn’t ALL good. To the people who got up and squeezed past us about 1000 times to go GOD KNOWS WHERE – sit the fuck down and yeah that is my toe you just stood on. Seriously it’s like two hours, how can they possibly need to get up and down that many times? DO YOU HAVE ANTS IN YOUR PANTS MISTER? Even Lachie was less fidgety, but that could’ve been because we had him on a leash.

Biggest lolz of the day – the guy who tried to fight the Sea Eagle (really, the Sea Eagle? Not Storm Man?), the entire stadium booing Cameron Smith (though to be fair I actually felt kind of bad. I know I know).

Biggest awws of the day – the Beav love obviously, Steve Bell and bb, Des Hasler’s general existance.

pic: LeagueHQ/Anthony Johnson

For thoughts on the actual game as well as more on the ‘entertainment’, you might get lucky with Kiki and Sassy’s upcoming GF observations. Stay tuned babies.

*Please forward all expressions of interest in dating me to lozzy[at]oherrol.com

Now, I would like to write a post for you all about the grand final.  Unfortunately, I was so atrociously hungover and rubbish that I don’t remember very much. Also, I can’t be bothered.  

There is also a much more pressing issue to deal with: if 2008 was a golden year for the beard in rugby league, then every golden age eventually has to end, right?  So I think we need a little post to act as a fond farewell to the beards that made 2008 so entertaining.  Let’s light a few tealights, shot some Scotch, and mourn for the facial hair that is no more.  (If you need to change into something black, I can totally wait too.  I’m already wearing a black netting veil and channelling Blair Waldorf).

Forgive me father for I have been to the Brighton Bar … again.

First to leave us were the boys in black. After their loss to the Sea Eagles our favourite bearded boys, the New Zealand Warriors, decided to sacrifice their hilarious and delightful facial hair to charity.  Sigh. Is there anything worse than when people do something for charity?  I say no. Because apparently ‘things for charity’ translates as ‘things that make Sassy sadtimes’.  Like when mum decided I was too old for dolls and gave my Strawberry Shortcake dollhouse to the childrens’ hospital.  AS THOUGH CHILDREN IN A HOSPITAL HAVE TIME TO PLAY WITH DOLLS.  GOD. THEY’RE SICK, REMEMBER?  What was my point?

IT’S JUST ALL SO SAD. I’m gonna miss you crazy bushrangers. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go and start making my Movember advent calendar. Only four weeks to go till my most favouritest month of the year!

Goddamn if they aren’t going to be a long four weeks too. I am tres pissed off. I awoke from my drunken slumber to find out that Errol Patron Saint David Williams had stolen my lady Venus in the aftermath of Mad Monday and shaved the beard. The only explanation I can possibly come up with for why he defied our explicit wishes and went the razor is that he overheard us discussing our Top Five Favourite Movie Gettin’ Square and our Top Three Favourite Ginger David Wenham and came to the conclusion that it was a brilliant idea to make himself over in the image of John Francis Spiteri.  Davey, nooooooo!

Is that … a mullet? I do believe it is. What are you gonna do, mate, put up some shelving?

I’m sorry your Hhonour I didn’t mean to say ‘shit’, it’s just that this fucking guy’s gettin to me.

And as well as leaving you with the evidence that Dave hasn’t practised shaving in at least six months: (make sure you shave AFTER you shower, kids, when the hair is soft)

Who’sh gonna pay for my bush fare?

I’ve also tracked you down some exclusive Errol footage of Dave rocking out on Mad Monday. Goodbye, beardbye, and enjoy babies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aw youse big kids crack me up

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

Des Hasler does not find this buffoonery amusing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just look at this:

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

Sea Eagles pics: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Storm pics: Quinn Rooney/Getty Images

… Are we all joyful and excited about the Grand Final this weekend, kittens?  Globo Gym vs the boys in maroon?  Oh my god, what a coincidence!  Me either!  So let’s just try and deal with it in the most painless way we can.

Anne: Neely, you know it’s bad to take liquor with those pills.
Neely: They work faster.

The truth is that the lead up to this week’s game has caused nothing but trouble for me.  My night terrors that Melbourne might actually win … again, have been so bad that Intern John-John has started slipping xanax into my bedtime cocktail.  He knows I love my beauty sleep.  Apparently I kept trying to strangle myself with the bedsheet and waking the household up crying and screaming STOP REFERRING TO YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON GREG INGLISSSSS.

Basically, Melbourne Storm have turned my life into Valley of the Dolls.  Except it’s football driving me to the prescription meds bottle instead of a philandering husband or a failing musical career.  That’s kinda sad, right?

On the bright side, at least I finally have a valid reason for why I alway wear ridiculous see-through pastel nighties.

I am also left with the horrible decision of whether to rock up at the game weaing nothing that supports any team, or … god I don’t even think I can say it … something MAROON.  Is there any colour more hateful than maroon?  To quote the always-eloquent Kiki “it’s like red that got shit in it”.

If love was a colour it would be marooooon

Worst of all, my decision to throw all my support behind Manly out of sheer petty dislike for the Storm has caused a giant domestic dispute Chez Sassy.  My brother / flatmate is still on the Manly hate-train, and when he realised on Monday I’m team Manly, he was Not Pleased.  He banged some drawers, I threw a martini, and the whole thing ended with him screaming:

“If you’d been there to seen them beat the Roosters in the semis in 1987 THEN YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND”

This is not necessarily true, because I would have been five, and probably too young to understand hate, understand who won, and/or remember any of those things if I did.  But whatever.  The end result is we’ve started dividing the fridge in two using sticky tape (my side has barely enough room for all my vodka and nailpolishes) and I swear yesterday he maliciously turned on the tap in the kitchen to scald me in the shower.

In other Melbourne news, the boys from south of the border are still on their quest to become the most martyred team in league.  Sacrificial grapple lamb Lamberon Smith is still upset about his suspension, Israel Folau suspects he’s being illegally stopped from leaping by opposition players while the refs do nothing, and Antonio Kaufusi has vowed to win the premiership for his fallen captain.  Yes, yes, we know.  You’re all very noble in the face of persecution.  Saint George the martyr has nothing on you kids.

I would make some kind of jokes about all that but to be honest I didn’t really read all those articles. They weren’t nearly as interesting as the news about Joyce Churchill.

JOYCE CHURCHILL was married to the greatest fullback of all time … but she has a soft spot for another. Asked which player’s neck she would most like to dangle the Clive Churchill Medal from as the man of the match from this Sunday’s grand final, she replies: “Billy Slater. I like him. I’d like to cuddle him.”

Joyce! You floozy!  Just quietly, we Errol girls do love a cuddle, too. We get it! I’m guessing Joyce would have some strong opinions on the Important Question of who should take out this year’s snuggliest man in league.  She’d certainly support our plan to individually snuggle each of the nominees to make sure our decision is correct.

I also think she would enjoy dropping by the Errol offices for an afternoon sherry or ten and a gossip.  I’m totally up for it.  Call me Joyce!  I’ll bake!

(By ‘bake’, obviously I mean ‘I’ll send Lachie down to the Bourke Street bakery for eclairs and pretend that I baked’).

And in news that honestly almost makes me wanna move to Queensland, the Gold Coast Titans have decided to bring in the dollars by setting up their own betting agency, and because they are intensely lateral and creative souls, they have called it Titanbet.

Fuck off Titans, this is amazing.  All the other leagues clubs are watching their punters push money into pokies to make a few extra bucks, not you Titans.  They’ve decided to screw that, and go straight into TAB-style punting.  They care not for the fact that they will be making money from people placing bets on events including the competition they participate in.  Conflict of interest?  What conflict of interest?  Here, have a palm tree-patterned betting card!

I love it.  More than anything I hope that they send the boys in when they’re injured and in the off-season to man the booths.  You know it would be good for business.  If you can’t trust Scott Prince with your bets, who can you trust?

Also, if we’ve learned anything from the Simpsons it’s that the best way to deal with a tropical community is to introduce gambling.  I hope the next item on the Titans’ agenda is to build an island casino.

Island native: If God is all-powerful, why does he care if we worship him?

Homer: God is powerful, but insecure. Like Barbra Streisand before James Brolin.

Island blackjack!  Island roulette! The possibilities are endless.  If anything can keep rugby league solvent then it’s the wonders of casino gambling.  Note to David Gallop: begin investigating themed casinos.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to have a nap.  I think the downers are kicking in.

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

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

note: not my actual hand

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

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

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

note: not actually Kiki

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

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

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

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

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

I do however object to two things in this article.

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

David wished Kiera would stop making yucky jokes about his wood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lookin sharp Watmough!

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

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

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

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

Happy gambling!

All pics: Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

David immediately regretted his decision to groom his beard during play

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

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

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

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

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

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

goldcoast.com.au

Gosh, he’s pretty.

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

Illawarra Mecury

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boys went all Where’s Wally on us

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

The Hot Pioneer broke a face

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

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

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

Steve brought his lady and bb out

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

pics: SGT at ManlySeaEagles.com

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

Fiiiiight!

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

pic: SGT at ManlySeaEagles.com

pic: Craig Golding/LeagueHQ.com.au

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

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

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

Well Intern Brownie and I are officially on non-speaks. Again. I hate when we have our little tiffs.

After the undignified thrashing that Intern Greg Bird and his sharks gave my Roosters on friday night (20-0! Kill me now!), compared with the Dragons 34-6 win over the Warriors, Intern Brownie has been unbearable. Dancing around the office celebrating his team’s finals chances, singing ‘Saved by the Dell’ and occasionally making sad little chicken noises.

NOBODY LIKES A GLOATER, BROWNIE.

And because I can’t blame my boys, or Saint Freddy (even though he seems to want to blame himself) I’ve become very upset with Intern Brownie.

It’s blindingly obvious by now that the Roosters have some serious psychological issues going on. I know they can win games, they just can’t manage to want to win games. It’s ripping my heart out to watch. Which is why I can’t blame them, you know? Those kids have enough to deal with. My message to the boys is just forget about the loss and concentrate on reciting the affirmations your therapist gave you:

I AM WORTHY OF LOVE AND ADMIRATION.

I HAVE UNTAPPED AND INFINITE POTENTIAL.

I DESERVE SUCCESS.

Good boys. They’ll start working soon.

It’s a shame too, because Brownie and I had been having such a lovely week. Knocking off work at lunch to lie top-n-tail on the couch and watch the Olympic diving together, eating jelly snakes and giving insightful commentary on the springboard events, re-enacting rhythmic gymnastic routines using the left over crepe paper from Hot Man Christmas. See if I play ‘Italian ribbons routine’ with you this week, mister. Hmph.

I should probably also point out at this point that the Errol office is in disarray this morning anyway, and I’m sure you can guess why. We awoke to the news that Intern Greg Bird won’t be fronting up for work today … because he’s kind of in jail.

Needless to say this is Not Good News to face first thing on a Monday. We Errol girls aren’t very good at mornings in general life, let alone when one of our employees has been charged with assault. I’ve already had two high-kick Mimosas ** and it’s not even ten thirty yet.

And I think for now, that’s all we’ll say about that.

Back to my sad chooks for a moment. The only bright spot in that whole game was that Paul Gallen’s grapple tackle on our Errol favourite, David Shillington, caused a little bit of push-n-shove. Shirt-lifting push-n-shove. Our favourite kind!

pic: Getty Images / smh.com.au

Have you been working out more, Shillo? On the Parramatta low-carb diet? Either way we’re all very impressed. Even John John!

And it seems like the Roosters are also determined to outdo Manly as the most retro team in the league. They’ve introduced some snazzy new workout suits and debuted them at the Roosters fan BBQ. It almost goes without saying that I approve. So seventies! So New York Jew!

(Thanks to Browder for the fab Braith pic)

CHAS TENENBAUM I LOVE YOUR WORK!

Now onto the Warriors (STOP LAUGHING, INTERN BROWNIE. JESUS). I’m going to be honest, for most of this season I was completely indifferent to the Warriors. Didn’t like em, didn’t hate em. Plus they were kind of far away so it was easy to just pretend they didn’t exist. That was all before they started their mass beardathon. It is hilarious and I love it.

The Channel Nine commentary team announced on Sunday they have solved The Mystery of The Beards (that they’re tributes to Ruben Wiki) but … didn’t we all know that already? Way to fall off the pace Channel Nine! We here at Errol have been discussing this vitally important news story at our afternoon cocktail hour for weeks. WEEKS I TELL YOU! We are all over the facial hair news.

And we are especially all over it insofar as it involves Michael Witt and his amazing ginger moustache. We just love a man who grows a surprise ginger mo and doesn’t shave it off in a moment of despair and vanity. Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr Witt. FLY THE FLAG WITTY! We love it.

Meanwhile the Tigers have brought back the old Wests jerseys to wear while being beaten by Manly. FINALLY, A V NECK. I’m ever so happy. Because do you know who looks good in a round neck? That’s right, the answer is “not football players”.

Sure they may not have won, but they looked fabulous. Look how flattering that is. Especially on Daine Laurie as he scored two one-man tries, side-stepping defence with his old gold legs, dreadlocks in full flight. The man must be eight feet tall.

And in the process of winning over the Tigers, how much better was Anthony Watmough’s game? I like to think he has been paying attention to his horoscopes and spent a morning at home focussing and preparing mentally for his game:

Spend a little extra time and energy at home today, as there are issues just starting to arise that you can handle with ease at this point.

The other possibility is that Des Hasler giving the boys the silent treatment after their loss last week to the Rabbitohs scared them into a win. Oh, Des! The silent treatment? Can’t you just imagine it?

I hope that while he was refusing to speak to the boys he also made extra noise while he did the washing-up in the kitchen and bashed pots and pans together and when anyone asked what was wrong just shouted “NOTHING. I’M FINE. CAN’T A MAN WASH UP WITHOUT BEING QUESTIONED ALL THE TIME?”

Poor boys though. Apparently the Manly kids just can’t make anyone happy lately. As if it’s not bad enough that they pissed off the wardrobe mistress and art director of the Gods of Football and were forced to play poker in their white hospital boxers for a segment on The Footy Show. That was super awkward.

And, kittens, I hate to leave you on a sad note, but in the Raiders vs South Sydney game yesterday Troy Thompson was taken off field with a ruptured achilles, and Marc-with-a-C Herbert with a medial ligament injury.

NOT THE HERB! We are utterly heartbroken. Herb is one of our Errol favourites and we can’t bear to think of the rest of the season without him. Rest up for 2009 Herbie baby.

* Next time I promise to actually write something about, you know, football. This week you just have to settle for the Important Business of uniform fashions, facial hair, and therapy updates.

** If you were wondering, it’s just like a regular Mimosa, but with an extra shot of Tanqueray, for that little high kick to the brain. WHEE!

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

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

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

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

Giggle! His name sounds like animalz.

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

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

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

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

Coincidentally Ballin happens to make my lady flower blossom.

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

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

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

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

• Storm win. Surprise!

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