friday partytimes: what you get is what you see

March 5th, 2010

So the NRL launch this week didn’t just involve your team captains standing awkwardly in front of Sydney landmarks. It also involved a Brand New NRL ad. It has everything you could want, if what you want is lady-farmers, a sculptor, an old man at a busstop and stuff about FEELING ALIVE. Comment and tell us what you think, why don’t ya?

Alternatively, if you don’t care, watch this awesome NRL promo from 1989, also known as SASSY’S FAVOURITE YOUTUBE VIDEO EVER. (It really is, I have it bookmarked and everything):

Happy Friday darlings!

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women we love: anna meares and sally mclellan

August 21st, 2008

We Errol girls are All About Love.  And we hate it when we hear whinging about Aussies only winning minor medals in the Olympics.  God forbid you’re the second or third best in the world.  ONLY SECOND IN THE WORLD. SECOND OUT OF SIX BILLION? UNACCEPTABLE! Hang your heads in shame, bitches! 

Combine that with the fact most of us have trouble making it up the stairs to the front door after a night out* – let alone doing anything vaguely sporty – and it’s probably not surprising we think Anna Meares and Sally McLellan are completely bloody amazing. 

It’s not just because they are incredible athletes, because they are determined, or because they’ve both just won silver medals at these Olympics.  Not because Anna Meares now has one gold, one silver and one bronze in Olympic cycling and has made me cry when she won each one of them. 

Not even because the incredible Anna also recovered from a horrible race fall and near paraplegia seven months ago to win that medal.  (I’m totally about to cry again writing this).  SHE’S JUST REALLY INSPIRATIONAL, OK?

We love them because … well, because they are adorable.  Unaffected, joyful, honest, brash, humble, hilarious and totally Aussie.  I started loving Sally the second Channel 7 tried to give her the ‘you must be so shocked that you fluked yourself into the finals’ edit and she basically told them to piss off.  I enjoyed that.

Michael Dodge/www.foxsports.com.au

But then she went and almost combusted with joy when her place was announced, and gave us one of the best post-race interviews you’ll ever see:






By my count she said ‘shit’ about eight times.  On international television.  In front of billions of viewers.  WE LOVE YOU SALLY! 

I can’t decide whether Sally’s stream of consciousness swearing is cuter, or the fact that Anna used the phrase kitchen sink to sum up her Olympic experience.

I went to the final in with the attitude ‘I’m going to throw the kitchen sink, so I hope you’ve got big shoulders’. But man, she threw the kitchen sink at me!

Kitchen sink!  Awesome.  And how do you feel, Anna darlin? 

Absolutely SMASHED.  But you know what: I feel so good.  For all I care that silver medal could be gold.

So happy!  So cute!  So anyone start bagging them and you’ll have five fiesty Errol girls, two interns and one naked, enthusiastic work experience boy to deal with.  I also have a mean right hook, if you’re wondering.

* Emma is, of course, the exception to this. She does the sports on behalf of all of us, and when she gets home from a night out, bounds up the stairs like a lively kangaroo. A well-dressed, drunk, lively kangaroo.

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women we love: goldie hawn

August 8th, 2008

If Naomi Wolf taught us anything about beauty, she taught us that it’s something to be wary of. She charged us with wondering whether beauty can be a self-imposed cage; whether it’s so fragile that it has to be constantly quarantined and maintained, because mixing it in with too much thought or action or personality or humour or drive would just shatter the poor little thing altogether.

It’s all too easy to think about beauty in a vacuum of stillness or passivity, that the only kind of beauty is the kind that comes inside magazines or in just one perfect photo, never speaks, never acts.

But if the gorgeous little ray of sunshine that is Goldie Hawn taught us anything, it’s that all that can be completely meaningless. It doesn’t have to be something that impoverishes you or is a trade off, because beauty doesn’t have to be that one-dimensional. Yes, she’s beautiful in a photograph, but a hundred times more beautiful when she laughs at herself, or flashes her cheeky grin, even in the gawky and slightly unsure way she used to hold herself, like a leggy foal.

Beautiful because she’s clever and because you can see in her eyes that – like our darling girl Dolly Parton – she looks at the world and, despite all the sorrow she’s been through, sees it as beautiful too.

Don’t forget, this is also the woman who helped bring us the genius of Cactus Flower, Sugarland Express, Death Becomes Her, There’s a Girl in My Soup, Private Benjamin and Overboard. If you don’t think Overboard is fabulous, then I can tell you you have no taste.

Surely that picture right there is reason enough for a full on love affair with the woman. Plus she and Kurt are too cute for words. De factos for the win!

Yes, that is Goldie and Liza. And yes I am TOTALLY dying from the fabulous too.

I’ma have a cocktail for you tonight, Goldie honey. Kiss kiss.

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i just can't get you out of my wigs

July 29th, 2008

This may just be both the most brilliant and heartbreaking thing I’ve ever read.

Kylie Minogue was shocked and surprised when she discovered a fan backstage crying into one of her wigs.

The mystery man found his way into her dressing room while the singer was performing at London’s O2 Arena on Saturday.

He is believed to have gained entry after convincing security guards he was her stylist, reports the Daily Star.

But kind-hearted Kylie, 40, refused to let minders call the police.

She’s said to have posed for a picture with the fan before he left peacefully.

Most brilliant because that first sentence is freaking HILAR and made my working day significantly brighter. He was CRYING into one of her WIGS. Most heartbreaking because, well…he was CRYING into one of her WIGS. Aww bb. Come ‘ere, put your Hand on Your Heart and Confide In Me.

Celeb obsessions are kind of my specialty and I wholeheartedly support having one, or many (just as long as it’s not someone boring like Alba). In fact I’m baffled by those who go through life without them. What do people do for fun if they’re not trawling through caps of footy player’s bums or flittering about at zefron.com? If you know, email us. Intern Brownie has had a bit of excitement lately and he could do with some nice quiet email monitoring at Errol HQ.

As much as I support being a crazy fan, obviously there’s a fine line between what’s healthy and what’s not (because what is this blog about if not accurate psychological advice? We are pretty much professionals. Professionals at BEING AWESOME. And judging from that I am also a comedy genius, y/y?).

I think the key to not crossing the line is to remain distant from your chosen celeb. No trying to get up close and personal, no fanmail saying how their lyrics/movies/writing ~saved you~, no sending gifts. I am SERIOUS about that last one guys. Amy Sedaris is too:

But sometimes fans will send me weird shit, and I just get a bad vibe from the box immediately. Very seldom do I keep anything a fan sends me. I mean like, people who read an article saying that I like taxidermy, so they’d send me something. That kind of weird shit. But they don’t know me at all. And so then I’ll respond. I’ll write them back, and if they write me back, I never write them back because it’s like, I did it once, whatever. Or, if they send me pictures and I don’t know them.

Don’t ask, coz I don’t even know

Be as creepy as you want, lord knows I’m not opposed to that, but keep it to yourself yo. Or you know, only share it with close friends who get it or strangers on the Internet.*

Also, I love that the story says he ‘left peacefully’, like he’s a wild bear. I’ve heard if you curl up in a ball and remain motionless when confronted by a Kylie fan, they’ll leave peacefully.

*None of this applies to people I like. Kiki’s friend Kate has a Barnsey tattoo and showed it to him in person. This I totally approve of.

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Wo/men we love 2 for 1: Michael Urie and Becki Newton

July 20th, 2008

Two for the price of one! DOUBLE THE LOVE. Come and get it, sunshines.

Ugly Betty has given us lots of wonderful things – adorable geeky Henry, Whilhelmina Slater’s glorious evil, guest appearances from LiLo/Christian Siriano/Vicky Beckham, Betty’s fierce nephew Justin and one of the greatest moments in television history where he performs a one-man Hairspray show on the subway.

etc etc. My favourite Ugly Betty gift though, is Amanda and Marc. These two have chemistry like woah. And you know why? Because they’re BFF fo rlz. How cute is that? I love TV, but I love it even more when fiction crosses over into ~real life~, mostly because it makes it easier to pretend my favourite TV characters actually exist. Although there does need to be a line drawn, because if I found out Kyle Chandler actually invites Taylor Kitsch over for dinner and has a cute coach/father figure thing going on IRL, I’m pretty sure I might actually burst with glee. I’m just thinking of my health.

In fact Michael and Becki are apparently even more BFF than I originally thought, because in conducting my Very Important Research for this post I discovered there are an obscene amount of pics of the two together at various events. Possibly more than there are of Sassy and Kiki together.

I also discovered that Becki is married. She’s mazzed up AND she has a fierce gay best friend. What a champ. I think I might love her a bit.

Also, The Guardian tells us that they enjoy performing as Neil Diamond and Babs in their spare time. OF COURSE THEY DO.

M: For a Hollywood benefit we did perform You Don’t Bring Me Flowers
B: As Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand, with a fake witch nose.
M: Chest hair. Full outfits. You could hear a pin drop.
B: It was frightening because we were so committed.
M: It was almost like a Lifetime movie it was so serious.

And on that note, I think I’ll leave you with Marc and Amanda’s Dreamgirls rendition. God bless YouTube. And Ugly Betty.

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women we love: emmylou harris

June 26th, 2008

I feel that the world is divided between people who name things – cars, plants, future imaginary children – and people who think that’s horrifyingly gauche, or twee, and will have no part of it. I’m going to hope our readers are namers, because I have already decided to name my first-born daughter Emmylou. No, I’m not joking. It’s a beautiful name, and I also plan on having children beautiful enough to pull it off. *cough*

Note: I may also have a tiny weakness for brunettes.

If anything Emmylou is discounted too easily by too many people as “the world’s greatest backing singer”, as though that’s some kind of alternative to being brilliant or being special, rather than a cause. Emmylou was no wallflower. In front of the Hot Band she was a star. But even then she was connected to everyone in the band on stage, and they loved her for it.

Being alone is easy.

Hold an Australian Idol audition and there are a million people who want to stand at the front of the stage and be stared at. How many of them can actually make anything magical happen?

Name me any Ryan Adams song more haunting than ‘Oh My Sweet Carolina’, any Bright Eyes song sadder and lovelier than ‘We Are Nowhere And It’s Now’.

Surely there is no song ever even sung that is more heartbreaking than Emmylou and Gram Parsons singing ‘Love Hurts’.

And she gave him a beautiful farewell in‘Boulder to Birmingham’.

As Gram’s singing partner Emmylou never even wrote down her meldody parts for their songs. If she had, it would have been futile. Gram couldn’t sing a song the same way twice if he tried.

Instead she leaned in close to the shared microphone and watched his lips and his eyes, trying to sense his next notes from his expression and his breath. They sung organically, watching each other’s faces.

I think I have a feeling for music – I think I’ve always had it – and it was Gram who brought it out in me. I don’t think I have the vision that Gram had, I think quite a lot of my music was learned from him, a combination of an instinct that he brought out in me.

As far as our musical relationship goes … I was the energy source, and he was always the visionary and the real leader. He needed my energy and I needed his direction.

He always carried those songs around in his head. He just needed a little prodding to get them out. That’s all I did.

I was Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire … he was leading and I was following, but it just was as natural as breathing.

Sigh. Isn’t she lovely?

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Women we love: Kathy Griffin

June 16th, 2008

I’m ashamed of myself for only just getting on the Kathy Griffin lovetrain. Funny, and funny women especially, is one of the few things I like to consider myself a bit of an expert on, so not being a fan of someone so fucking awesome till just now is really making me feel like a big fat failure. I feel like a gay guy who only recently discovered Amyl.

Her whole schtick is so refreshing and funny and awesome. Idolised by the gays, not fond of children, likes a pussy joke or twenty, not afraid to get The Girls out (and openly acknowledges it rather than playing the “oh bother, my boobies are just toooooo big for this shirt. OOPS how did that button come undone?”, loves Liza (consequently so does Zeffie, but that’s a story for another day) and says fuck and motherfucker and vagina a lot. She is basically all of us here at Oh Errol but semi-famous (ok so I’m not idolised by the gays but fingers crossed it’ll happen one day).

She also plans her own pap shots and dates people solely for photo ops (which I think all of us would totally do too).

Her wit is just so quick and makes me laugh out loud, and I’m actually not a big lol-er normally. I almost peed my pants laughing at Season 3 Episode 3 where her assistant’s assistant is deleting Kathy’s one nighters from her phone, and she has one guy who she calls the “Clit Flicker” deleted because…well coz he’s a clit flicker, and how when she saw him again her clit was all “HOLD UP I REMEMBER THIS GUY” and made that noise trucks make when they reverse. Gold. (btw I can’t wait to see the google searches we get from this paragraph)

I love how real she is and that when unexpected things happen in her life, like being completely betrayed by her husband and their marriage ending or her dad passing away, she talks about it. I find that so admirable, especially in someone who makes their living being the Funny Girl.

Season 3 of My Life on the D-List is on Foxtel now, and Season 4 has just started in the US. I could not be more excited and you should be too.

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9 to 5 … woah.

June 15th, 2008

Gather round kids, it’s episode two of Sassy’s film club. Now that we’ve all discussed Tootsie and it’s brilliant mix of spangles, jews, wigs, feminist commentary and the queer gaze, it’s time for 9 to 5.

This movie is about 19 of the 100 Reasons Why I Love Dolly Parton (of the remaining 81, at least 30 are in ‘The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas’, one of them is the fact that she has both ‘Jesus Days’ and Gay Pride days at her Dollywood ranch, and two are her boobs).

Hello gorgeous!

Dolly is Doralee, the adorable fairy floss secretary with a gun in her purse. When she speaks angels play harps made of coconut ice and unicorn foals are born from tiger lily pods.

Lily Tomlin is acid-tongued Violet. When she opens her mouth passive aggressive knives like ‘oh, I know just where to stick it Roz’ fly out.

… and little Jane Fonda, in her Elton glasses and felt hats, is guileless divorcee Judy.

But do you know what people miss about this movie? It’s not just 80s schtick. It’s not proto-feminist First Wives crap. It’s not Office Space with women from 1980 (although there are a lot of references to Xerox machines).

It’s truly, completely, and utterly insane. They lull you in with Miss Dolly singing ‘9 to 5’ – did you know she wrote that song accompanying herself on only her acrylic nails?? That’s another of the 100 Reasons – and then they totally freak you the fuck out. The girls end up in this bar:

with some giant margaritas and a joint that was a gift from Violet’s teenage son (I only wish to have a son that amazing one day), at which point they grab you with their fake nails and throw you down the rabbit hole.

There are cowgirl outfits, safari outfits, snow white outfits; A man is poisoned with Rid O Rat, concussed, almost killed, and causes the three to accidentally body-snatch from a hospital; There are gimp outfits, alcoholic old typing-pool boilers, S&M jokes, and a man named Dick in a half-unzipped 1980s Adidas jacket wearing only his sparse chest hair underneath. There is also the ONLY scene I’ve ever seen where actors are supposed to look stoned … and do.

So I want you to do something for me. I want you to go home, put on a robe, get completely stoned, and put this movie on. Eat a bucket of wings, write some notes and I’ll see you next week at film club.

xox Sassy

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Women we love: Tina Fey

May 29th, 2008

Tina Fey is amazing. Sure, she was a writer for SNL which hasn’t been funny for like, 20 years, but she then went on to write both Mean Girls and 30 Rock (which is another show you should be watching, if not for Tina then for Alec Baldwin as the snuggly Jack Donaghy). And despite all the buzz around about Geek Girls who aren’t really geeks at all, Tina Fey really is a bit of a struggler. She was never a hit with the mans and married the first guy she sexed (still married btw), which in itself didn’t even happen till she was 24. And she gives great advice on this matter, like how if boys don’t like you just look at it as them practising on other girls and you being spared of their crapness.

She’s also not afraid to show her bitchy side (and we all have one, even celebs. ESPECIALLY celebs), like when she called Paris Hilton “a piece of shit” with hair “like a Fraggle” (personally I can’t stand the Paris hate and think jokes about her are a really cheap laugh, but it’s Tina and this was based on a real personal encounter, therefore it’s excused). Speaking of celeb encounters, she also told this lolz story about Matthew Mcconaughey which is still funny a year later:

TF: He was a nice enough guy.
HS: I’ve noticed he always has his shirt off
TF: Yeah, he was always taking his shirt off, he’s like “yeah, here’s my deal, I’m hot.” We had a meeting one day at like 11 o’clock, right before the show and he walks into he meeting shirtless wearing this like old musty sarong.
HS: He seems like he wouldn’t smell very good, does he smell good?
TF: He doesn’t smell great, no.

She also makes hilar jokes about working too much to raise her daughter properly and doesn’t carry on like most Hollywood mothers who think they’re the first woman ever to pop one out, or deserve some sort of fucking badge for doing so. Her daughter’s really cute, too. You know, for a kid.

lolz at Alec just randomly in that pic

I know she’s been questioned before in the media about always writing single girls as losers, like Liz Lemon in 30 Rock (who when you think about it is pretty much the most real woman we’ve got right now on tv) and the recently divorced and bitter Ms Norbury in Mean Girls, but I honestly think that’s just a reflection of how she would be herself if she hadn’t met her husband. Or, rather, how she actually is even with a husband.

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Women we love: Stevie Nicks

May 11th, 2008

Five feet and one inch of spitfire and poet in platform suede boots, fringed shawls and gypsy gold – all crystal visions and flowing hair.

Mick Fleetwood says when she sang Rhiannon on stage she was part Welsh witch and part Janis Joplin; a woman possessed, a dervish, a wraith. She says she chose being a rockstar over having a husband.

We say any woman who can pull off a top hat and make a grown woman cry is pretty much our idol. Anyone who can listen to her sing Landslide dedicated ‘to daddy’ and still have dry eyes clearly has a heart of stone.

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