Well someone from the Melbourne Storm’s just become the most popular girl in school!

But first, let’s cover the breaking news stories of the day: Firstly, the Cronulla Sharks continue to win at life. Secondly, FACEBOOK IS EVIL. Apparently the police have warned the footy community that people might steal their identitiez on the interwebs, and Penrith have even banned Facebook and Twitter. Can I just say if they want anyone to travel around with Nigel Vagana and teach the boys how to be safe on the net (BE SAFE KIDS!), they should just send us. We’ll just slap them on the hands with rulers and yell MAKE YOUR FACEBOOK PRIVATE AND DON’T ADD RANDOMS. Done and done.

Now back to the breaking up of the Melbourne Big Four.

Now it’s a given in most people’s minds that, after the whole salary cap debacle, at least one of the Melbourne Storm’s Big Four will have to leave the loving embrace of Globo Gym. It’s just maths … right?

And no, I won’t call them the ‘Fab Four’. When did we start using that phrase? It makes Cooper Cronk, Cam Smith, Billy Slater and GI sound like a reincarnation of the Fab Five on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. This is patently ridiculous, because Cam Smith can’t cut hair, and even Carson Kressley is nowhere near as fierce as Fierce Bitch Cooper Cronk.

I rest my case.

I much prefer calling them the ‘Big Four’. It makes it sound like other clubs are hunting them down for sport, like big game hunters in Africa trying to bag the big five of African animals.

What was my point? I got distracted imagining Greg Inglis with a rhinoceros horn.

Oh right, competition is heating up between the NRL clubs to sort out who gets to take Greg Inglis home. Melbourne don’t want to let him go, plus the Broncos and the Titans both want him. But bitches better watch out, because someone new has stepped into the ring.

…. me? Really? He wants me?
pic. Getty Images

Oh yes, Russell Crowe wants GI for the Souths’ backline.

“He wants him bad,” a source close to Inglis said. “I’m not sure if it will happen but Russell will do what he can to get him there.”

HOW ARE THE OTHER TEAM OWNERS MEANT TO COMPETE WITH AN OSCAR WINNER? Not only does he have blue eyes like a husky and a voice as majestic as the Snowy Mountains, he also has a country estate AND he’s friends with Snoop Dogg. And according to the Tele, Rusty is ready to ‘wine and dine’ Greg, make some conversation about books and movies, order the second most expensive wine on the menu, and order the lobster for him in a chivalrous fashion until GI gives in and signs with the Rabbitohs. And by ‘signs with the Rabbitohs’, clearly I mean ‘takes his pants off’.

GI has since denied the whole story, but …. he would, wouldn’t he? This is Russell Crowe, after all. For all we know his phone calls have caveats of silence on them, like the CIA.

And our advice to GI is to play hard to get. That way hopefully he gets more play dates with Rusty. Genius, right? That’s what we’d do, anyway. Remember Rusty’s gladiator thumb (at the game where his Rabbitohs crushed my Roosters)? That was AWESOME. Russell is pretty much our favourite human ever, which is why we always defend him vehemently against the Fire Up! boys and hope to one day be loaded enough to follow his example and own our own footy teams. If Greg plays his cards right he could live our dream of being Russell’s bestie.

And if Sam Burgess is reading – who am I kidding, he totally is – don’t worry babe! We’re sure he still cares about you, too! When he took you to that movie set last year and told you Souths needed you, and only you, he totally meant it. He really does think your accent is adorable, and that you have a great tan and a beautiful smile. He just wants the freedom to see other people as well, you know?

And on the topic of pantslessness: remember last year when the Tigers had some kind of club-wide reading group going? The one where you could totally tell that Tim Moltzen was reading Sophie Kinsella’s ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic’? Good times.

Well this year, it seems like the Tigers have moved on from encouraging kids to read good, and moved onto spreading the gospel of pantslessness. Now THIS is something everyone at Errol HQ can get behind. Heh, behind. We totally support the Tigers’ efforts to end the tyranny of pants!

Nips Farah tries to start a locker-room pants off revolution ….

… and Chris Lawrence takes it to the set of the Footy Show.

We love the Tigers’ Crusade against Pants almost as much as we love the news that JAMAL HAS HIS FIRST ACTING JOB. Not only is he gonna be on the Footy Show, he’ll have a guest spot on ‘Cops’ with Gary Sweet. Congratulations, Jamal baby! Our dream of seeing Jamal remake ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ is getting closer and closer every day.

Now why don’t you take off your pants and tell us where you think GI will end up?

Thanks to the awesome Cronkster and Smithyman for the caps!

Never read Errol before? Then you might not realise that we often find ourselves in awkward situations. Like the time we had to interview John Cartwright in a food court outside MacDonalds.

Or the time I had to go out on the field at Leichhardt Oval after a NSW Cup game to interview the players. Instead of walking around to the big gate, I decided to just step over the little fence in front of the Grandstand …. and got stuck on it. Literally. Right leg on the field, left leg in the stands, and the crotch of my opaque tights snagged on a curl of wire on the top of the fence. Have you ever tried to unsnag the crotch of a pair of tights from a mini-hurricane fence in front of two NSW Cup teams, while holding a giant video camera bag in one hand and a tripod in the other? It was … elegant.

Apparently we have some kind of embarassing NSW cup reggies mojo going on at Leichhardt Oval in particular cause it keeps getting Kiki too. When the Tigers played Wests she tripped over her thong running to get an interview and fell face-first onto the concrete walkway in front of a terrified and aghast Robbie Farah.

When the Tigers played the Central Coast Centurions she found herself standing in line at the kiosk window waiting for a snack. All of a sudden she realised – and if you know Kiki you’ll know that this made her really, really happy – that there were cheesedogs on the menu.

If Tim Sheens is reading this it must be like looking in a mirror.

CHEESEDOGS!

She exclaimed with joy, just as the man at the front of the queue turned around to leave and came face to face with her.

You know that moment when a person turns around and you realise you recognise them, so say “Hi! [Insert name here]! It’s you!”  Well, it was just like that.

Except that the man, friends, wasn’t a friend of ours. It was Tim Sheens. And, well, we’ve never met Tim Sheens. Also, Tim Sheens is generally known as either Tim Sheens, or ‘Sheensy’, no? And no, she didn’t say ‘SHEENSY’. Instead she literally yelled CHEESEDOGS in Tim Sheens’ face. He looked mortified. It was mortifying. And now, forevermore, we will call him Tim “Cheesedogs” Sheens.

… nyello, Cheesedogs speaking?
Pic. Getty Images

And now we have a new Special Moment to add to the Big Book of Errol Awkward: the time Sassy sms-ed Ryan Girdler. Remember Girds? The Penrith champion, ladies’ fave, former tv star and generally super-nice human being? the boys at Rugby League Player mag kindly let us do an interview with him for the next issue, knowing that we think he’s talented/lovely/interesting etc. We couldn’t get him on the phone to begin with, so I saved his number to try again.

Pic. Getty Images

That weekend, a good friend hit a bit of a rough spot: the kind that needs cocktails and hugs and other things of that nature. So I wrote a message that I’m 99% sure said:

“Hi babe, obviously I’m a bit out of the loop, but sending you all my love darlin xx s”

THEN I SENT IT TO RYAN GIRDLER. KILL ME NOW. At least I didn’t realise for like five days so I had five days of blissful ignorance. Why am I so embarassing?

Even Mitchell Pearce, the Patron Saint of Looking Awkward in Photos, doesn’t have any answers.
Pic. Getty Images

But anyway, let’s talk about footy and how it totally soothed the pain of being a really embarassing human.

My chookies were playing the bye this week (it was a close finish, but they kicked its ass) so I could watch the games without stressing and goddamn they were good. Not good if you are a fan of: ball control, defence, good refereeing, or the Sharks, but good for me.

Dragons vs Sharks, Sea Eagles vs Rabbitohs, Tigers vs Raiders: three of the most exciting games I’ve watched this year.

And apparently for the Tigers it was one of the best games to play all year, because Nips Farah got so excited he actually ran to the crowd for high-fives. NIPS TOUCHED PEOPLE! He never touches people! It’s proof that even after your team murders eight tries in eighty minutes, miracles can still happen at the Lilyfield Rectangle.

Special love from that game goes to Chris Heighington, for being a beast and playing like one; to Nips, for bein’ Nips; and to Jarrod Croker and Joel Thompson for representing for the baby Raiders.

Whee! I helped!

Pic. Getty Images

Footy also helped because, as always, awkward shit happened. Awkward and hilarious shit, mainly thanks to Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. Not only did he get completely outraged after a Sharks player tackled him off the field and kneed him in the buttock, he then scored one of the top ten most hilarious tries in history. Trapped between two Sharks, he looked around shiftily, bit his lip, reached out his arm like he was trying to stealthily steal something from a museum, and gently puffed the ball onto the line. It was pure Flossy magic. We rewound it and rewatched it four times.

…. Yoink!

Did I do good?

Screencaps thanks to the awesomeness that is Australia Votes.

Happy Monday, kids!

WHAT UP ERROL FANZ!

We are absolutely bloody exhausted right now. We spent the entire day at the Easter Show, most of that time was spent on the cattle lawn with NRL players and really cute kids. And wow, that lawn provided a powerful stench. It also provided Kiki with Embarassing Life Moment #567

Servo dude – “Busy day today?”

Kiki – “Yeh, I was working at the Easter Show. I had to go home and have a shower coz I smelt like poo.”

Servo dude – “…..”

Kiki – “I MEAN COW POO. NOT HUMAN POO. GOD.”

We’re also pretty proud, cause today is a big day bitches. Today is the WORLD PREMIERE OF ERROL TV. We have been talking about it for ages, creating videos just for Errol. But because we are us, it’s taken about 6 months to turn ideas into reality. But finally, we did it! Hoorah!

We are dedicated to our Errol readers. We will even spend a day in a tent that smells of shit.  Behold, the debut of Errol Tv! Featuring us and our double chins, Kiki’s unbelievably bad hair, Rhys Wesser, Luke Priddis, Trent Waterhouse, Roosters cuddles and a Tiger who really really loves hot dogs. Please know that when Sassy says ‘fans’, she does it with irony. And please watch out for the ARL dude running a training drill while smashing an entire ear of corn on a stick. Legend.

Apologies from Kiki re – the whole ‘I can’t be bothered doing my makeup so I’m gonna wear giant Top Gun sunnies that look terrible on camera’. It won’t happen again. Live and learn people.

Other highlights of the day, sadly not all of them caught on film, included:

* Mario Fenech burning Sassy: “you’re a funny girl, but not intentionally”.

* Mario telling us we were the best looking media there. Considering everyone else was a dude, this isn’t much of a compliment. BUT THANKS MUZ! We love ya.

* Sassy pretending to kick Andy from the NRL, only for him to literally flinch in fear. Awesome.

* We found ourselves needing a break from the poo smell. We soon discovered a place that served margaritas. Kiki asked “can we have one? is it 12pm yet?”. Sassy responded “11.40am, close enough. It’s tequila time.” Mmmm … frozen daytime alcohol.

* Kiki being so upset by Luke Priddis telling her she is too old for a Disney Princess showbag, she ended up buying a Tinkerbell stationery one instead.

She does love her new Tink pencil tin and matching Tink crayons (and created Sassy a truly spectacular artwork for her fridge) but deep down she really wanted a plastic tiara. DAMN YOU LUKE PRIDDIS.

And look how happy Sassy looks. Kiki missed out like WOAH.

* Luke Priddis redeeming himself by telling Kiki her Dragons necklace was ‘beautiful’ during their interview. Well spotted L.Pridd.

* Seeing Isaac Luke exiting the Milking Barn. Apparently he is really into dairy.

Make sure you comment and tell us what you think x

Notice anything different about me? YES, THAT’S RIGHT, KIDS. I AM FEELING EXTRA SMUG TODAY.

One of my top twenty favourite things in life is Being Right. I’m basically an idiot and – to be honest – it doesn’t happen very often, so when it happens twice in one week I get some extra swagger in my havaianas.

Remember last week when I warned Knights fans that this year they were stuck at the bottom of the wheel of footy fates and they should spend the rest of the year in their backyard bunkers?

I think the Knights should just accept that they are the new Roosters (who were the new Bulldogs) and will suffer calamity all year. Just hibernate for the next 12 months. As a Roosters fan, trust me, it’s not worth the psychological trauma of staying awake.

No it wasn’t just a brief, horrible dream. You really are the new Roosters. The latest news is that Danny Wicks’ scooter buddy Chris Houston has been charged with drug offences by police and stood down. Which means, well, badtimes for him. But more importantly, no more jokes about him looking like an old-timey blacksmith for us. It’s always the bloggers who suffer.

As the voice of experience though, I’m here for you darlings. I know the pain. I made it through 2009. Sure, I lost a few brain cells from incessantly banging my head against the nearest supporting wall, but then I found out that also burns calories. WIN.

And if you follow the Errol twitter you’ll also know that, as soon as the Houston story broke, I knew in my heart of footy hearts that somewhere a subeditor would see this story, grin with glee and headline it HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Aaaaand this morning the Sydney Morning Herald subbing pool did. I am pretty much Nostradamus right now.

Check my rocking white tights, whut whut.

While I’ve been living in my belltower writing down the future on parchment and that, and Knights fans have been buying up big on Xanax, Errol’s favourite ladykiller Tim Sheens sent his boys to etiquette class.

Class valedictorian and Tim-Sheens-in-training Beau Ryan.
Pic. Gregg Porteous.

Etiquette class! I’m not even kidding, I think this is genius. After all, I went to etiquette classes at June Dally-Watkins’ deportment school and look how well I turned out. Sure I may be tactless and inappropriate, but I can sit down without flashing, set a table with proper cutlery, and if I ever run into the Prime Minister and a Catholic priest simultaneously at a cocktail party I can introduce myself and shake hands perfectly, all while holding both a canape and a glass of champagne. I believe these are what they call “life skills”.

…. hmmm. Tell me more about this “can of peas”, Sassy.
Pic. Gregg Porteous

I’m also going out on a limb and suggesting to the lovely etiquette trainer that maybe Tim Molzten needs a few more lessons.

SCOFFING A DANISH FROM MICHEL’S PATISSERIE AT MEDIA EVENTS IS NOT ON THE LIST OF APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOUR MOLTZ. Seriously, it’s not. Just ask Beau Ryan. You can’t kiss a lady’s hand with danish breath.

We all might want to consider giving up the booze, too, because apparently Todd Carney’s new policy of laying off the beers has rekindled his love for life.

Pic. Phil Hillyard

So happy! Now that he doesn’t have to take up valuable time buying, refigerating, drinking and sleeping off beers, and dealing with awkward questions about people’s pants catching on fire, Todd has rediscovered the simple joys of a roller coaster. A sunset. A rainbow. An afternoon spent shopping with Shaun Kenny-Dowall or with a cup of Earl Grey on his balcony.

He was hands down the hit of the Roosters Luna Park fan day.

That worried looking lady? Yep, she’s been reading the tabloids.

Wondering why the Roosters all look so happy, by the way? Oh, yeah, cause we won again. That’s all. Carry on.

Love Sassy xxo

So it’s probably obvious that since we got back from the Gold Coast on Sunday we’ve been feeling pretty miserable. The faces in the Errol office have been worryingly bleak and Russian-literature-esque. Or if you’re not a fan of Tolstoy references, we was sad pandas.

After all, how are you meant to go back to normal life after the lovefest of a week we had and the brilliant All-Stars game? You can’t. Not without help. And luckily for us, instead of having to hit the pharmacy and beg for some uppers, we got this. If you didn’t read it, here’s what you missed:

Central Districts are marvelling at the courage of their left-arm bowler Ewen Thompson who bowled 10 overs on the trot in their one-day semifinal win against Canterbury with a kebab stuck in his throat.

According to the team manager:

“ET is kicking himself a bit because he is supposed to watch what he eats. He was in a rush to eat before training [on Friday] and he scoffed down a kebab and obviously some meat got stuck.

“The fact that he was able to bowl 10 tidy overs on the trot for us and only go for 36 runs, feeling the way he was, was quite remarkable.”

EWEN THOMPSON YOU ARE THE GREATEST HUMAN EVER. And for so many reasons, not least of which is the fact that he was on his way to an athletic training session, and thought, what shall I eat to propel my body to maximum physical fitness? A KEBAB. It sounds so … Mark Riddell. And it made me smile for a good 3.6 hours.

Know who else loves kebabs? Whoever owns this board:

Awesome.

FYI league fans, you will be delighted to know that the offending kebab was not one of Ali Baba’s famous Robbie Farah Kebabs (TM). As the English Four Nations commentators explained in detail, Robbie Farah Kebabs (TM) are healthy – “they have chicken in them!” – and do not constitute a choking hazard for cricketers.

The Willie Mason drama-fest continued with this story, too, about how Willie Mason is a footy membership angel of death, and:

The Roosters have sold 409 memberships since February 5 when Mason made his move to the Townsville club – an increase of more than 40 per cent from the 287 memberships sold in the 10 days before Mason’s departure.

The surge also coincides with the Roosters signing producers Steggles as their major sponsor until 2012.

It’s not necessarily that I enjoy reading bitchy things in the paper (that’s a lie, I totally do), but that I am pretty much a scientist (remember the Oh Errol Experiment in 2009?) and I have spent the last 24 hours trying to figure out which of these things is true about Roosters fans.

a) do they really really hate Willie Mason?, or

b) do they just really really love chicken?

Either way, the message is that you should never ever call Nick Politis ‘fat’ in a press conference, or the Universe will punish you with bitchy newspaper stories about how no one likes you.

But the footy news this week is really all about fullbacks. Kurt Gidley and his mysterious knee injury are apparently going to be out of action until round 10 of the season. Hopefully that means he also gets a doctor’s letter giving him four months exemption from having to pee in a cup. HE CAN’T STAND PROPERLY, PEOPLE. HOW DO YOU EXPECT HIM TO AIM AT THE PLASTIC CUP?

I think the Knights should just accept that they are the new Roosters (who were the new Bulldogs) and will suffer calamity all year. Just hibernate for the next 12 months. As a Roosters fan, trust me, it’s not worth the psychological trauma of staying awake.

At Roosters HQ our new coach Brian-Smith-please-God-help-us is making the boys focus on the positives.

In my mind, this means they all have canes and dance around singing ac-cen-tuate the positive. Other than that … I got nothin. I remember no positives from 2009.

What I do know is that on Sunday when the Chooks play the Tigers, Todd Carney will be playing at fullback. I know we haven’t known each other long, Brian, but this confuses me. Carney at fullback in a team with Minichiello as captain? And Ben Jones in the halves? I love lil Benny like my own fabulous ranga child, but surely after his game on Saturday you’d consider him for hooker?

Is it just cause Brian the great white hope is trying to keep Carney as isolated as possible from the rest of the players as often as possible in case his aura of calamity infects the other players and someone goes up in flames?

And his opposite number with be Timmy Moltzen, which breaks my heart, cause I thought he was a massive improver in the halves last year. I was so proud I even caught Kiki’s weird condition where watghin him play made me talk like a league commentator. “… and hasn’t Moltzen really come along this year?” “He’s really liking that no. 6 jersey, isn’t he?” “That’s the kind of confidence a coach loves to see”. I JUST REALLY LIKE HIM, OK GUYZ?

But the fullback superstar of the week is clearly Jarrod-with-an-O Sammut. Who is now taking styling tips from Cap’n Jack Sparrow. I can’t wait till he starts plaiting beads into his moustache. the news of the day is that bitch is STACKED! Oh, yeah, and he has a tattoo that’s spelled wrong.

Those extra ten kilos will be perfect for crushing the poor tattooist who traced out ‘justify your existance’.

Meanwhile thanks to the sub-editor who called him ‘the incredible hulk’ in the tele, now every time I hear his name I think of the Simpsons ep where Bart calls Milhouse an “emotionally crippled mini-hulk”. From now on, in my mind, he shall be known as Milhouse.

And cause it’s only four-ish weeks till the season starts, here’s a completely lolz thread of summaries and predictions for each of the teams (not by us). Enjoy xx

So, big news, kittens. Sonny Bill Williams and Mark Gasnier are going to play against each other in Paris this week when their rugby union teams face up against each other. Amazing, huh?

I know, I feel the same way. Let’s move onto more important things.

I officially have a new footy crush … and it’s someone from the Tigers. 

So the news out of Wests Tigers HQ last week was that Beau ‘funniest thing on the Footy Show’ Ryan, Blake ‘Abercrombie & Fitch’ Ayshford, and Tim ‘Jewy name, Irish eyes’ Moltzen had re-signed with the team until the end of 2010. This made me happy because, well, they’re all adorable. I do have eyes, you know. Also, happy because the newspapers kept referring to the trio as ‘young guns’.

HOW GOOD WAS THE MOVIE YOUNG GUNS? I totally had a crush on Lou Diamond Phillips. True story.

I also really enjoyed Emilio Estevez’s sweet sweet braces.

But no, my crush isn’t one of the Young Guns. Guess again!

Straight after that, the news out of Wests HQ was that Steve Folkes, the new high performance manager, was NOT messing around. 

According to Timmy Moltzen:

“… in the gym the music’s off at the moment, and there’s no talking in the gym, which is about encouraging you to concentrate on doing your work. You can talk when you’re not working.”

How delightfully evil and Spartan and Footloose-esque. NO MUSIC, JUST WORK! 

Beau Ryan told the journo:

“Yeah, it’s been pretty hard. We’ve been doing a lot of running, and Folkesy likes training in the middle of the day, for some reason. We all had to get bikes, and tomorrow we’ve got swimming. I think we’re going to be the Wests greyhounds, not the Wests Tigers.”

Let me get this straight: Folkesy made the Tigers all give up modern transportation in favour of bikes? Then ride them in in the blazing pre-season sun to train at midday? 

HELLO NEW CRUSH! I’M COMPLETELY IN LOVE. He sounds like a demanding evil footy dictator and I love it. Pain is nothing! Winning is everything!

An evil dictator with a TRUNDLE WHEEL.
Pic. Quentin Jones

PLUS THE BOYS ARE TOTALLY SCARED OF HIM.

Lil Blake Ayshford said:

“There’s no music and no air-conditioner … so we’re sweating up a bit. I think he’s just trying to get us into the pre-season mentality – he’s really working us hard and stamping his authority at the moment, which is good. It’s working on us.”

”Hopefully, we’ll start getting the music in and the air-conditioner will start to work soon. One of the boys asked him whether the air-conditioner could be turned on, and he said it was broken. I don’t know whether it’s broken or not – we’re too scared to try it at the moment.”

This Folkes character is kinda starting to remind me of The Greatest Character in Television History, also known as Sue Sylvester from Glee.

To quote the fucking fierce Sue on the topic of fear: 

“We’re dealing with children, they need to be terrified, it’s like mothers milk to them – without it their bones won’t grow properly”.

Do you think he wears adidas tracksuits every day, too? In my mind he totally does.

Steve Folkes I love your work!

I hope he also stands on the sideline with a megaphone and yells out some of Sue Sylvester’s trademark inspirational phrases when the boys get tired:

“You think this is hard? Try being waterboarded, that’s hard!”

“You think this is hard? I’m living with hepatitis, that’s hard!”

“You think this is hard? Try filling your own cavity, that’s hard!”

Or when the boys fail to live up to their potential at training:

“This is what we call a total disaster, ladies. I’m going to have to ask you to smell your arm pits… That’s the smell of failure. And it’s stinking up my office!”

Maybe even to let the players know that turning up late to practice is UNACCEPTABLE:

“And if you are one minute late, I will go to the animal shelter and get you a kitty cat. I will let you fall in love with that kitty cat, and then, on some dark, cold night, I will steal away into your home … and punch you in the face.”

And then, of course, every week there has to be a story that could only be about rugby league. Like the week when Ben Hannant got swine flu. Or the week Sonny Bill Williams fled to Europe under cover of darkness. Some shit only happens in league. This week’s lucky winner?

Uncle Wayne (aka the Messiah of Kogarah) might be hiring a kick-ass judo trainer, who is also:

a) cage fighter;

b) a former Judo reserve for the Australian Olympic team, and;

c) ex-con who shared a jail cell with Ivan Milat.

Well OF COURSE HE IS. What else would you expect from a rugby league martial arts trainer? That kind of thing is too rugby league for words. Ain’t no soccer trainers who are reformed ex-jailbirds, are there? No rugby union support staff who’ve watched Ivan Milat pee. Rugby league, you never cease to surprise and amaze me. 

As for Mick Cutajar, who is the guy they’re talking about – and apparently a really good cage fighter, if you were wondering – all I have to say is: that’s one SWEET judo outfit. I like him. Maybe if the trainer thing doesn’t work out, Uncle Wayne can hire him as a fashion consultant … just send my commission to Errol HQ.

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

Sassy on her way to the SFS

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

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

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

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

^ Sad Roosters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sassy likes mah headband? SCORE.
Pic. Mark Nolan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poor journalism!

That’s right, babies, this year isn’t just the Errol’s Year of Regional Australia. We are also trying to be less one-eyed and lazy and get out to games that aren’t at the SFS/don’t involve our teams. This is tricky, because we already usually have to go to two games, and our friends are already whinging about us disappearing for 26 weekends every footy season. SORRY GUYZ! You’re welcome to come to Super Saturday at Sassy’s house if you like? You can even jump under the blankie with us!

First stop: Campbelltown for the Broncos vs Tigers. Or as we like to call it, C-TOWN! YEAH!

[When I was trying to organise this, Sassy said 'Yes of course I'll come. Now ... where is Campbelltown?'. No shit. Obviously our horizon expanding year was more necessary than I realised. - K]

The majesty of the Formule 1 is unmatched

Anyway, we imagined popping out to C-Town on the M7 for some partytimes at the game, and a bevvie at the Leagues Club afterwards with the lovely Julianne … apparently the Universe had other plans. These plans involved us sitting in roadworks for 2 hours in the pouring rain and missing the entire first half of the game. Then sitting in the hallway of the Formule 1 ($49 hotel rooms! awes!) for half an hour while they tried to open the door to our room. Um … sorry Tigers. Truth is,  it’s we who suffered the most by missing the Troublesome Spectator who tackled Jared Maxwell. It’s not the same on TV.

So instead of cheering on the Tigers to a (narrow) loss while being soaked with rain, we just had drinks at the leagues club. Honestly? Yeah we’re pretty ok with that.

Daaaaamn Wests Leagues Club is pumping on a Friday night. It’s all pimped out with orchids and fountains and young people all snazzed up with their iPhones. It’s like being in Vegas, or something. It even has that vague smell of perfume and fountain chlorine like Vegas hotels do.

Apparently Easts Leagues Club hasn’t really heard about stuff like flowers and piccolos of champagne and … people under 40. They’ve only just caught onto the Yum Cha trend. The highlight of the Leagues Club was Kiki spotting the stupendously gorgeous Tigers rookie, Blake Ayshford (member of the Hottie McHotHots), and getting so flustered she spilt champagne all over herself AND Sassy.

And unless you wanna hear about Kiki’s 1 hour romance with an handsome ex-con, rocking out with 18 year olds, or Sassy’s giant stack that earned her a free drink from the Camden Hotel that’s kinda all we can say about that night.

So we moved onto Plan B. A Saturday evening spent with the Roosters,  Panthers and our Orange BFF Tige at CUA stadium in Penrith. Or ‘at the foot of the mounntaiiinnnsss’ as Ray Warren likes to say. Heart Ray.

Once again it was – to use the proper meteorological term – pissing the fuck down.

Which leads us to ask: James Blundell, why do you lie? For most of our childhood he and James Reyne told us it was “way out west where the rain don’t fall“. This is clearly untrue.

WHY DO YOU LIIIIIE? (PS – cracker of a song though)

So turns out CUA Stadium is kind of fantastic.  Yep, really. We would talk about the actual game, but that would mean Sassy has to accept the fact that her beloved Chookies are completely shithouse. And she’s just not ready to do that yet. Close your eyes and think of the Love Shack, Sassy! We do have to admit though that Jennings is a fucking delight to watch.  We adore all the Panthers, and we did discuss Petero/Shane Elford’s strength on the wing/Lachlan Coote’s toughness … but mainly, it was Jennings. Watching him with the ball is almost as exciting as High School Musical. Almost. We are excited/terrified to see him play in Origin.

Reasons Footy In Penrith is Tops-

* Easy access to gambling. Is there anything better than a TAB in a caravan? We say no.

* Oh wait, there is something better….A SAUSAGE SIZZLE! A snag sandwich and drink combo for 7 bucks. You don’t get this kind of value in the Sydney city limits. At the SFS that same 7 dollars would buy you approx 3 and a half undercooked hot chips.

* The glorious, glorious hill. It ain’t really footy without a hill. You know it’s true. The one in Penrith is downright LOVELY.  Even when we had to buy ponchos to sit on we still didn’t regret buying GA tickets. By the way, sitting on wet grass during a rainstorm = slowly sliding downwards. To stay still is rather difficult on the ass muscles. Thanks for the buns of steel-esque workout CUA!

* The announcer has excellent taste in music. Every time Jennings makes a break he whacks on Greased Lightning. AWESOME. Then there’s the way he plays 50 Cent’s In Da Club whenever the Panthers score a try. That alone is amazing, but add to that the fact they have whacked in a recording of people singing LETS GO PANTHERS…LETS GO to the tune of the song. Best.thing.ever.

(Apologies to Tige for busting out embarassing dance moves every time music was played. We just can’t help ourselves)

* Being so close to the action. It’s so … well it’s old school. So many of the stadiums these days are so far removed from the boys it’s almost a waste of time to go see the games live. Whats the point of footy if you can’t hear the OOOOOOF when they run into each other? More importantly, what’s the point of footy if you can’t see Hottest Bitch in League 08 Nominee Matty Bell stretching his hip flexor right in front of you. HELLO ASS!

And that’s about it. Despite getting soaking wet (heheh..wet) we totes had fun frolicking in Sydney’s west. Next stop – Canberra. Watch out T.Camps!

Ok first of all: tell me you watched Monday night football. Right? If you didn’t, it means you missed two of the greatest television moments so far in 2009.

1) being the boys cracking my shit up presenting this week’s Monday Night Retro, and;
2) being Joel Monaghan cracking the shits when Melbourne scored, lying on his tummy on the grass and banging his feet on the ground like an angry kid in a supermarket. The Storm make me feel exactly the same way, Monas.

I’m not gonna talk about that game though, because Canberra are kind of my second team and it’s just too depressing. Let’s talk Tigers instead.

So if you’re following us on twitter (you should be) you’ll know I went to the Tigers vs Rabbitohs game on Sunday at the SCG. God knows you wouldn’t have found out about it on Facebook, because those fascist bastards shut us down. This fills me with rage because they said we weren’t ‘an individual’ when quite clearly we are a collection of individuals and if those couples who have joint ‘MARRIAGE IS ALL ABOUT SHARING’ Facebooks get to stay then so should we.  FIGHT THE POWER!

Until they can prove to me there is an actual individual named JonAndMelinda Clarke with 8 albums of wedding pictures then I will continue to be pissed about this.

What was my point? Oh yes, sunday afternoon footy. God the SCG is glorious on a Sunday afternoon. Even in the shitty seats on the east side with the advertising banners in front of you and the pretty Sydney sun in your eyes. STILL LOVELY. I do enjoy a good example of historical architecture.

We could almost telepathically hear the voice of Phil Gould sitting in the Channel 9 commentary room stroking some kind of cat (and/or Ray Warren) and purring I lovvvvvve Sunday afternoon football, don’t you Rabbits?

Instead of our fave fake married couple Gus and Rabs, though, Kiki and I and our Errol BFF Suchy got the commentary of some poor man’s Errols behind us. By which I mean they call David Kidwell ‘Kiddy’, and Fetuli Talanoa ‘Tally’. Let’s be honest … as nicknames go, they’re no Tiny Dancer or Hot Bitch, are they, boys?

Even though we were squished on one side looking into the sun, the SCG was amaaaazing. So so beautiful, and such a fantastic enthusiastic crowd. The little kids in footy jerseys were cute enough to touch even my cold, black heart. It is also one of the top ten best things in life when little kids yell out criticism at the field. Like, ‘way to drop the ball, dickhead!’ and ‘that pass was FORWARD!’

Their snarkiness is to me like babies’ laugher is to normal people.

In other news, I have realised that when you’re not a fan of either team, a messy game is an entertaining game. It’s not like when I watch the Roosters and almost have a stroke every time they have no-no times.

I was seriously so relaxed, just chillin in my seat, looking for my Lucas Paw Paw ointment that I totally brushed the Rabbitohs mascot. Apparently he was standing there for aaaages waiting for me to shake his hand or hug him so he could keep going and I just studiously ignored him. Sorry bunny! Please don’t badmouth me to Rusty! 

You can bet I wouldn’t have missed it if the Tigers mascot came by, because from what I can tell the actual Tiger has retired and just been replaced by the Ali Baba Kebab man. I’m assuming he gives out kebabs, in which case I think this is a brilliant development. Mmmm …. food.

Normal jersey …

… Robbie Farah spray-on jersey. How does he lift his arms?

After last week’s Country vs City I thought Robbie Farah was all over the blue number 9 jersey for State of Origin. He played the shit out of Wade Park. And he didn’t change my mind on Sunday. He distracted me slightly with his super super tight sprayed on Heritage jersey (do they have to cut him out of it, like a swimmer?) and his new beard (it looks hot, keep it up Robbie) … but I’m still team Robbie for Origin.

Especially after he ran smack-bang into lil Issac Luke in the second half and scared the hell out of me. I swear I heard the collision. I thought we were in for another Anthony Quinn convulsions incident and I was all set to cover my eyes like a Delicate Lady. I mean … what? I am a Delicate Lady! Ask anyone!

*cough*

But Robbie soldiered on, and apparently puked like crazy as soon as he got off the field. Which is why I can’t be disappointed he missed the field goal when Souths evened it up at 22 all. He was concussed, people. That’s the kinda spirit that you need for State of Origin. The spirit to take a violent knock to the brain, then continue playing a game in which it’s likely your already fragile brain will be knocked once again.

It’s actually a bit weird to see a player get hit in the head and have it not be Mick Crocker. Yes, Mick is back. And in case you didn’t realise, he decided to try and start some tensionz on the field within the first five minutes … just to get your attention. Either that, or someone mocked his spray-on hair.

Meanwhile even I wasn’t expecting Nathan Merritt to pop out of nowhere and kick a field goal with one second to go. And no, I’m not exaggerating … literally one second. NATHAN MERRITT. Really? In the end we had to take Tigers fan Suchy out on the field for some post-game frolicking on the SCG to ease his pain at his boys losing by 1 point. ONE POINT. 

It’s times like these (when you aren’t a fan of the losing team) that rugby league is amaaaaaazing.

teeny tiny tiger!

Getting to run onto the field is heartwarming for at least five reasons (plus possibly a few more that I don’t remember cause I was a bit tipsy). It involves seeing boys try to create a kicking tee from a white loafer, a plastic schooner glass, and a mate’s hand. It involves adults momentarily losing control and tacking little kids for footballs. Also, people kicking balls into other people’s heads. Everyone loves a falcon!

There’s also the boyfriend running away from his girlfriend with a footy in his hand; when she falls over on the grass, he looks back … then just keeps running. That boy has a field goal to kick, after all.

Plus the awesome sight of a policeman pretending to arrest someone just so his friends could take photos. This is why I love Australia.

The only vague downer was the man kicking a Sherrin around on the ground … and when we booed him for bringing his dirty AFL ball onto the grass he answered ‘um, it’s the SCG’.

So … what? If the name of the ground matters, then you should be playing cricket, DICKHEAD. I hope he got hit in the brain with that Sherrin.

And on that cheerful note, special thanks to the Rabbitohs supporter who got taken out of the SCG by police. He was so cheery! Even the potentially incarcerated had a great day! That’s the magic of Heritage Round.

Thanks to the fierce Cronkster and Kiki’s swish new iPhone for the pics.

News time! Let’s talk all the footy bizness that has happened this week. And by ‘bizness’ I mean people that are hot, and things that make me laugh.

Thomas J is that you?

Ok, that’s a lie. This first thing made me sad, sad, sad. Mitchell Pearce had an allergic reaction to his local anaesthetic. ALLERGIC REACTION. But despite his crazy swollen Craig Gower face, Mitchy still played on Saturday in the ANZAC day game against the Dragons. Way to twist mah heart, Mitchell.

Not to mention that he was catching kicks from the opposition with his lightning-fast reflexes … even though he couldn’t see properly. Maybe it was like when people are born blind and their other senses heighten as a result? Mitchell has six senses! Or something.

I want him to know though, I’m not being cruel here. I don’t wanna mock Mitchell. Cause I’m a Roosters fan … and a massive nerd. Like as a kid I was allergic to dairy, so if I went to school camp and mum didn’t send me with a carton of soy milk, I couldn’t have cereal. True story.

Or the time I stepped out of the car in the country, barefoot, onto a bee and had an allergic reaction.

Those are some SCARY motherfuckers.

Not to mention the time that Kiki had an allergic reaction to a horse / a face mask / an injection and had a swollen face / hives / a lip that touched her nose. WE FEEL YOUR PAIN MITCHELL. We really do. We are your sisters in allergic arms. Perhaps we could all move into hypoallergenic bubbles.

Onto the Tigers. The boys out west have obviously been paying attention to the league bad press and decided to encourage their boys to be industrious little readers. Because everyone knows people who read are good and productive citizens. Can’t punch someone with a book in your hand! Yes, you can probably hit them with the book, but how often do you hear about scandalous book attacks? Not often. Can’t argue with statistics.

They even organised what looks like some kind of Tigers bookclub where the boys can discuss their books of choice, character, theme and metaphor. Footy training isn’t just about being buff, kittens!

In my mind it goes something like:

Tim Sheens: OK, from now on we’re alternating Cindy Crawford’s “Aerobicise” and “Buns of Steel”, and reading one non-school book a week. My first book is “Fit or Fat”.

Robbie Farah: Mine is “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”.

But what are the boys actually reading this week? Let’s start with Timmy Moltzen. What have you been reading this week, Timothy? Pretty sure that’s Sophie Kinsella’s Confessions of a Shopaholic.

Apparently Tim was so inspired by Isla Fisher in the movie that he dashed out to Borders to grab the book. No need to be ashamed, darlin. Everyone loves a good chick lit novel. And no judgment from me, Timmy, cause I totally like those cheesy airport thrillers that have ‘ADJECTIVE NOUN’ names, like Fatal Danger or Deadly Bones or Red Tide. That’s way worse.

Tatiana Gregorieva trains with the Brisbane Broncos

Maybe now the Tiges boys are taking care of their bodies and minds, next Tim Sheens can introduce them to the challenging world of bare midriffs. Peter Wallace can give them some tips. Nice sports bra, Pete.

Will cure hangovers, will not win elections.

This week I also love that I was right about Chinesegate over at the Parramatta leagues club. I LOVE BEING RIGHT ABOUT STUFF. I knew that shit wouldn’t work! I am pretty much a political genius. Like Rahm Emmanuel. Just as badass, but I never got half of one of my fingers chopped off in an Arby’s meat slicer … yet.

And while we’re talking love-ins, no one is more loved up than big Dell. Wendell didn’t even play in the ANZAC Day match but no one can stop talking about him. Bitches lovvvve Big dell.

Brent Tate wants him in the Aussie team for the test match against the kiwis next week. OMG ME TOO BRENT TATE! I would put dell in every team if I could. Not to mention that this is honestly the first time I have read about Tate *cough*dirtyqueenslander*cough* without feeling a surge of bile and/or distaste, which I reckon is pretty much proof that Dell can spread love anywhere. He’s like Jesus. Jesus if he wore a pimpin’ white tracksuit and a sideways cap.

Darren Lockyer was asked if he would ever consider moving to the Dragons and said:

“I’d have to listen to my mate Wendell Sailor all day and I don’t know if I could deal with that again.”

… which is totally the rugby league equivalent of pulling a girl’s hair in the playground. LOVAHS! LOVAAAAAAAHS! I wonder if Daz will give Dell a special box of hair ribbons for Christmas like my crush gave me in year one? (Hi Thomas, btw. Hope you got that orthodontic situation sorted out).

It’s possible that Dell also cured Anthony Quinn after his awful awful exit from the field on Saturday. Not Quinny! One of the only Storm players we like! We thought we were scarred by seeing poor Cameron Ciraldo injure his leg during a game, but it was truly upsetting seeing poor Quinny’s pink legs trembling on the grass. We’re super super glad that he’s recovered from what looked like a seizure to be up and at em and … chillin with his puppy, Honey.

… is Honey lying on one of her relos?
Pic. Michael Klein via news.com.au

Our Melby Errol spies also tell us that as Quinny was wheeled away in the ambulance he tried to leap to his feet, bust out of the ambulance and get back on the field to play. He also asked ‘what’s for dinner?’. Oh, Quinny. Apparently seizures really build up an appetite.

Meanwhile head of my shitlist is whoever decided Luke O’Donnell deserves a week out for punching. Did they not see it? Dammmn that was hot. And clearly the world thinks so, or Fight Club wouldn’t have been an international success. It’s like they don’t even THINK about the Hottie McHotHots when they make these kinds of decisions. BAH.

Now let’s conclude the news, as is traditional, by looking at cute pictures of pandas:

Massive thanks, as always, to our fave blog for the screencaps. Kisses for you, BS.