7 

footy observations: a salute to glamour

May 31st, 2011

Some people like the fancy things in life. Bollinger. Cigars. Caviar.

Stuff like Chopard watches, sky-beds and … rugby league. Ah, rugby league. The sport of kings! (The bloodthirsty Medieval kind, anyway). And luckily for all of y’all – we know you must be those kind of people considering you’re reading Errol, right? – today’s post is a wrap-up of one of the most glamorous weeks in league history. You can go ahead and read it on your customised iPad 2s on your yacht. Settle into your Eames chair and let’s get started.

We started it off with a trip to the Triple J studios to talk to the Doctor about State of Origin (national broadcaster! glamour!) and you’ll be extra proud to know that we arrived at the office during the middle of a team meeting taking place in the reception area. We hope all the loyal employees at JJJ enjoyed me walking through the door, mid-conversation, saying “YEAH I HAVE A COCK … I TUCK IT BACK WHEN I’M WEARING A TIGHT SKIRT”.

In context, it totally made sense … sort of.

And if you missed it, lucky you can listen to it online: BEHOLD THE MAGIC OF TECHNOLOGY.

Just head to six minutes in and go nuts. The Doctor’s also pretty lolz if you feel like following him on the Twitter.

But while we were busy basking in the glory of radio stardom (guest appearance! glamour!) up in Queensland things were a little more … unpleasant. The Gold Coast Titans were subjected to eight disallowed tries on Friday night. Eight! It’s a conspiracy!

Do the refs hate them because they’re beautiful?

We actually have confirmation via one of our favourite humans – George Rose – that the Titans are known as the “beautiful people”. According to Tommy Learoyd-Lahrs, soon as you hit the goldy you becaome at least 100% more attractive.


Pic. Getty Images

Would you argue with that? We wouldn’t.

The downside of course, is that you’re the coach of the woeful 2011 Titans, you have to find ways of coping with the endless run of disappointing losses and grim wins. Apparently coach Carty has chosen to cope by eating his feelings.


The beleaguered coach is rarely sighted outside his natural habitat of the coach’s ‘box’ ….


… and as a prey animal, may appear startled if he senses he is being watched. Proceed carefully.


The key sign of a coach under pressure is the loss of fine motor-skills and subsequent sausage roll disasters.

These are dark times indeed for Errol’s reigning sexiest coach in league. As for the reigning Hot Bitch Award for Hottest Bitch in League (aka Hot Bitch Cooper), the curse against the hot people of the world continues. What’s doing? Coops has a busted cheekbone from the weekend’s game:

Pic. via @RealBigdell

All this is doing is confirming our conclusions from the Great Fantasy League experiment of 2009. Hot people are FRAGILE. It’s just science.

As for south of Sydney, the Raiders haven’t named Terry Campese to play this week, which breaks our hearts a little. We love his long-range kicks and his comical Cheshire Cat grin. On the bright side, it leaves him free to continue bringing his special brand of off-field civvies glamour to our nation’s capital:


Pic via
Canberra Raiders

Meanwhile in Sydney’s glorious West, the Parra Eels are bringing the glamour back to coach travel:

via Tim Mannah

Naw, he’s like a sleeping angel!

And if the boys from the lonely island have taught us anything through the magic of song, it’s that nothing is more glamorous than a boat.

Exhibit A:

Just like how Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas taught us that G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S involves flying first class, up in the sky.

This explains why the Queensland Origin team made their own salute to glamour in the form of a special trip in Careflight’s rescue boats and lifty things. See, they’re just like the gondola chairlifts at a ski resort! Except, you know, bright yellow and made of plastic. And in a pool.

Billy heard the lyrics “flossy, flossy” and did his best Flossy Nightingale expression.



Ben Hannant still goes to Taco Bell, Drives through, raw yeah

JT wants to know just who the hell thinks he’s not still real. WHO? HE’S STILL JT FROM THE BLOCK.

Special thanks to the amazing Fall of Reach for bringing us the magic of Carty and the Sausage Roll incident! xx

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2 

a state of origin with no beer

May 27th, 2011

It is a truth universally acknowledged that some things should never be done sober. Like wedding toasts, or watching the Royal Wedding, or ten-pin bowling.

Add Origin to that list. It’s a game that’s a delightful, brain-buzzing, gut-trembling riot of footy and yelling and aggression and tries when you’ve had a beer or two, and it’s over before you can say “Darren Lockyer looks like the Master from Buffy”.

When you’re stone cold sober in your place of work, like your fearless correspondent Sassy was, Origin goes for an E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y. Every Queensland set happens in horrifying movie-style slow-motion. It was AWFUL. No one should be forced to go through that. And the papers thought Willie Tonga was courageous? Bitch, please.

It’s actually made me feel some empathy for the Queensland tendency to smash some Red Bull and Stillnox. It’s especially ironic when you’re watching two teams sponsored by VB and XXXX play each other. STOP MOCKING ME WITH YOUR CAPITAL LETTER BEERS, YOU BASTARDS!


What the hell Queensland dude. Just … what the hell.

The only upside is our that a non-cloudy brain means we can bring you some extra accurate rage. Let’s break down game one, shall we?

THE BAD CALLS

Don’t lie, there were a few. For one thing, there’s a been a lot of controversy over our decision to declare that the first “Cattledog” happened after the whistle at approximately the 81st minute of the game (meaning the guess of 72 minutes was closest). Sure, the game was technically finished, but they were still on the field, Thaiday was a-swingin’ around getting fiesty, Greg Bird was trying to lay ‘em on Corey Parker and we were cheering. As far as we’re concerned, it was the very definition of Cattledog.

We would also humbly suggest that James Blunt as pre-game entertainment wasn’t the best call. Man-motional pop doesn’t psyche anyone up to play footy, does it? Next time can’t we just make Phil Gould do his on-field inspirational speech twice instead? It gives us GOOSEBUMPS, no word of a lie. He’s the Robin Williams of the Dead Poets Society that is rugby league. O Captain, my captain!

And that’s before we even get to the forward passes from dummy half and a few dodgy tackles *cough*Willie*cough*.  All things I would gleefully have missed out on noticing had I not been so lucid.

(Not kidding, I miss a lot when I’m at games. Like that time at ANZ Stadium when Kiki and I loudly demanded to know how the hell Danny Nutley was playing State of Origin when he was retired. A nice man in the next row had to explain that it was Ben Cross).


We like to call one elbow ‘herbs’ and the other one ‘spices’.

Clearly, things that I don’t count as bad calls include people going the face massage or the neck-region in a tackle. That’s just the delightful spice on the roast that is a tackle in Origin.

THE JAN BRADY SYNDROME

You know I don’t like saying nice things about Queeslanders, but goddamn Matt Scott got Jan Brady-ed on Wednesday night. Cameron Smith man of the match, really? Who exactly does M.Scott have to French kiss to get some recognition?

That’s not a rhetorical question, by the way. Because I know at least eight young ladies who will gladly volunteer. Apparently they like his burly, Lazarus-esque flava.



Even Vossy looks a little overwhelmed, no? Pic by the amazing Fall of Reach

M.Scott was a rampaging beast in the first half. And that’s not to say the Blues forwards were pushovers … he was just unstoppable. Like two Fui Fui Moi Mois having a wrestling bout inside a Maroons jersey. I would even go so far as to use the word “outstanding”. I will also, later, go so far as to have a 50 minute shower to try and wash off how dirty I feel after saying that.

But apparently Cam “Marcia Brady” Smith is still the star of the show. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!

And M.Scott being robbed of his prom queen crown isn’t as bad as the rap some of our baby Blues are getting.

To anyone thinking Mark Gasnier deserves the boot, you’ll have to get past us first. Gaz was a saviour! While our forwards fell down in defence … who was there? Gaz. Damn straight he was. Right next to Aku Uate and his giant ass. Defending like demons, and in between running the ball at the line like they thought they weighed us much as Wendell. Those boys have no fear. And watching Aku charge upfield is almost as glorious as watching him bust moves on the dancefloor.

Beau Scott? Not a chance! Twitter loves calling him on his faults (as if getting your punch on is even a fault, but whatevs) but that boy stood up.


Duges you glorious bogan! You can put a ‘such is life’ decal on our car anytime.

Next you’ll be telling us Josh Dugan was out of position in defence … oh wait, no people did say that. But were they not watching his 25 FLAWLESS takes of the high ball? His threatening drifting runs across the line? His sparkly diamond studs?

Bitches, please. Don’t even try and pull that Jarryd ‘Marcia’ Hayne line on us.

He may be the train, or the plane, or any other mode of communal transportation, but Duges justified his selection every time he grabbed the ball.

THE FOOTYBONERS

Oh, New South Wales. No matter how many series we’ve lost, the Blues never ever stop winning our hearts.

Greg Bird, your aggression is spectacular. Dugan, your sneaky offloads are a delight. Jennings, your try was #footyboner in its purest form.


This picture was saved on my desktop as “husband”.

HANDS UP IF YOU HAVE A FOOTY BONER.

THE FALL-OUT

Much as we love our boys in blue, we have Some Things to Say. Things of the tough-love variety. The backs of the team can go play on the swings, but our forward pack needs to sit down and hear this.

When your backs are running at the line harder than you are … that shit’s not cool.

When you play better at Toyota Stadium than you do in Origin … that shit’s not cool.

When Gasnier’s making try-savers in the middle of the field … that shit’s not cool.

When M.Scott makes more metres than four of you combined … that shit’s not cool.

I say this with love. Angry, scary love, like Gran from Angry Boys. I only say it cause I know you’re better than this ‘n’ shit.

You’re not just called a pack cause you pack into a scrum. You’re a motherfucking wolf pack, boys! You watch each other’s backs. When you’re tackling a man, three of you go in so you can wrap up the ball. Every extra metre a man makes from a shifty Sam Thaiday offload is a knife into our delicate little hearts.

And every time a NSW forward runs with no other forwards anywhere around him, we die a little inside.

Be the pack. Live the pack. Go to Vegas and secretly slip ecstacy into the pack’s drinks. Whatever it takes, right? Good.

Now gimme a hug then go hit the swings with Jennings, we’ll see you next camp.

And if any of the Blues fans out there feel a little … desolate after the loss, chin up kittens. Not only was it a valiant performance, but it brought us this:

YOU’RE WELCOME.

Pics. Getty Images

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cattledog minutes: the winner is ….

May 27th, 2011

IT’S OKAY STOP WORRYING WE’RE ALIVE.

We resisted the temptation to give up on life after another Origin loss, and are back with a mixture of defiance, pride, and maybe a little nausea. It’s possible that two breakfasts were a bad choice. And thanks to the incredible Greg Bird, our Cattledog Minutes comp was a success. Hurrah!

If you hold this photo to your ear, you can hear us yelling “FUCK YEAH BIRDMAN!”
Pic. Getty Images

And no complaints, please. We gave intern John John some striped hotpants and a whistle and let him be the official timer, and he has declared that the first official Cattledog incident happened in the 81st minute.

Which means the winner is our boy Luke Richardson, who tweeted a guess of 72 minutes. Onya Lukey!

To say congratulations, the dudes over at M&Ms gave us some sweet buckets of Origin M&Ms to send you – just email us at errol@oherrol.com and tell us your address and whether you would prefer to eat your own team, or the Maroons.

Also since they’re not promo M&Ms if you guys want some for Origin 2 you can get ‘em at Coles for $12.50 … the only problem is the won’t taste like VICTORY like Luke’s will.

Now get on the email Lukey … we’re waiting for your call! The rest of oyu meet us on Twitter or Facebook on the day of Origin 2 for the next round of cattledog minutes xx

Pic. Getty Images

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the very best of errol: three years of raging origin bias

May 24th, 2011

Sup, newbies! If you haven’t been reading Errol for more than nine months because, you know, you were pregnant/in prison/still learning how to turn on the ‘puter, then you will be shocked to know you’ve missed out on three whole years of State of Origin posts.

Three long, long years of us writing totally biased posts in which we gloat about Queenslanders getting hit in the face and talk about how sad/drunk we had to get after each successive Origin loss.

So to get you kids up to speed, we’ve picked out some of our favourite ever Origin posts, from 2008 through to 2011, including at least one that Kiki had to write with a cast on her right arm because she broke it running across Oxford St to get to a gay club. True story.

THE ONE WHERE SOMEONE PISSES NEXT TO BRETT FINCH

THE ONE WITH THE COCONUT PHONE

THE ONE WHERE WALLACE NEEDS HELP WITH HIS JERSEY

THE ONE WITH DAVE WILLIAMS

THE ONE WITH THE FATWA

THE ONE WITH FREDDY IN A TOWEL

THE ONE WHERE WE FINALLY GOT MAROONWASHED

THE ONE WHERE WE EXPLAIN WHY QUEENSLAND CARES MORE

If you like anything, leave a comment why don’t ya? And if you don’t, please don’t sue us kthanks.

Oh … and one more thing: UP THE BLUES!

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2 

the errol wrap-up: origin prep

May 23rd, 2011

Happy Origin season, Errol-ers! It’s pretty much our favourite time of the year … well, aside from the week when they start releasing naked charity calendars just before Christmas. Is there anything funnier than dudes posing naked while looking serious? No, no there is not. Please see here for proof. And just like we do during Pervy Calendar-mas, this week we will be celebrating hard.

Next to the legalised on field brawls, the best thing about Origin is the fact other NSWelshpeople start sledging Queenslanders as much as we do in our regular lives. Retweeting people burning Queensland and it’s residents never gets old. EVER! It’s eternally awesome like Freddy Fittler’s is-he-drunk-or-what sideline giggles. Also, people create Facebook groups like this:The only good thing to come out of Queensland is a road to NSW

Luckily for us, even though we now have full time jobs in sport (we know, we can’t believe people hired us either) our jobs don’t require us to do any work at Origin. This is mainly because no one wants us too close to the Queensland team in case we kick someone in the shins by “accident”, injure a maroons player and start an inter-state incident. Also, employing lawyers to deal with the restraining orders is more expensive than you’d think.

This also gives us plenty of time during Origin season to drive around with the windows down sledging people in maroon clothing. IF QUEENSLAND’S SO GOOD WHAT ARE YA DOING DOWN HERE?

But let’s talk Origin prep.

For one thing, we have not one, but two, sky blue nailpolishes to choose from on Wednesday. At the moment, we’re thinking we’ll put the decision off until Wednesday morning to make sure we pick the one that matches our outfit best.

And up in Queensland, the enemy have been preparing for the big match at Lang Park (Suncorp, WHATEVER. It’ll always be Lang Park to us) by … grapevining?

It’s not just us, that is a grapevine, right? Cause it looks uncannily like the arm movements Intern John John does when he’s “feeling fat” and wants to burn extra calories on his trips to the work kitchen. We see you Dane Nielsen! Don’t pretend you don’t love it!

And of course Johnathan Thurston is loving it sick. If there’s one thing we learnt on the footy show last week, it’s that JT loves nothing more than a spontaneous dance break. Remember this? Yep, that boy is good at three things: dancin’, playin’ footy, and standin’ with his mouth open. He’s already done two of those this week, and if our plans to drop an anvil on him tomorrow at the Maroons team hotel come off, he won’t be doing the third.

We’re thinking of painting a picture of Dave Williams on it as a pin-up girl, you know, like the bomber planes in WWII. And next to him it’ll say like “… this is for kicking me in the face, Johnny!”


Sammy’s got his own personalised program from the Queensland personal trainer: tone up without losing your curves!

You know who you don’t see in those photos, though? Cooper Cronk. That fierce bitch is nowhere to be seen, and surprisingly, it’s not because he’s busy having his nails filed into points for the big game or telling noisy teens on public transport to ZIP IT.

And even though Billy Slater’s been doing his best to channel the Fierce, we still noticed.


twitpic courtesy of Luttsy

When you think about it, it’s pretty obvious really. While Billy does his best Cooper Cronk impression (see how he tucked his shirt in! it’s all about the styling), the real thing has clearly put his foot down and refused to have any part in this team-photo plaid-shirt boot-scooting uniform fuckery. We all know he’s a well-dressed dude, and apparently he cares not for taking part in group activities where the outfits make you look like you should be handing out menus and refilling empty Coke glasses, saying “welcome to the Outback Steakhouse”.

But while the Queenslanders have been preparing for some kind of boot-scooting Origin face-off (bad choice, by the way, NSW would totally win. We have TAMWORTH, y’all) the Blues have been getting their James Bond on.

Gregg Porteous’ photos don’t lie:

Follow him on twitter here

Look how schmick they look! As our hero Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock always says, “you’ve got to dress for success!”. Followed by: “That’s why I sponsor a charity that gives away tuxedos to homeless people”. What a dude. Our boys are bringing the sexy back to Origin. Mainly, because of the sweet suiting. But also because they all have tiny locks of Matt Cooper’s ratstail sewn inside their suits.

And to all the people who suspect that the Blues can’t match the Maroons in sweet dancin’ moves, we say:

a) have you MET Akuila Uate? If you have, he was probably dancing at the time. He’s like rugby league’s answer to Seaweed from Hairspray.

and b) Jamie Soward can angry dance the hell out of the music in his head. Exhibit A:

We’re feeling pretty damn confident that when it comes to the dance-off portion of this year’s Origin (crew againzt crew! No rulez! Street-style!) the boys in blue will do us proud.

Oh, also, when it comes to the game. How do we know this? Because Kiki – and this is a direct quote – feels it in her waters. Which is EXACTLY what Glenn Lazarus said, too. You can’t argue with a skinny-legged blogger and the man they call the brick with eyes. Up the blues!

Pics. Getty Images

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1 

erroltips update: laaaaaadies!

May 19th, 2011

It’s been a few weeks between drinks but here’s the deal: the ladies are kicking arse. So much so, that my brother texted me the other day to say “Broncobaby is annoyingly good at tipping”. Why yes, yes she is. Much love to the ladies (and the very few dudes) who are chillin’ in the Errol top ten:

But also … better watch your backs, bitches. After some ABYSMAL early rounds, I am climbing my way back to the top, round by round.

Muahahaha! Stay tuned for heaps more Origin goodies in the next few days x

 

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7 

welcome to origin season, bitches

May 17th, 2011

Oh, how I’ve missed you Errol-ers. I remember the carefree days of regular blogging, mocking sportsmen far and wide and telling embarassing personal anecdotes whenever I felt like it. But lately, things have been a little … demoralising.

My noble employer has decided to turn One HD from a sports channel to a general entertainment channel, which is actually kind of awesome since it means we get wicked awesome shows like An Idiot Abroad and Sons of Anarchy. But let’s just say that dealing with irate members of the public abusing you via the twitter and the Facebook and threatening to send in bombs to the office (that really happened) can put a dent in a girl’s inspiration to write footy blogs.

Although it did teach me fun facts, like there are at least 8 people on Twitter who want a dedicated A-League show on free-to-air TV, and that, often, people are straight-up nuts. Good to know.

The other thing that can get a blogger mighty depressed is OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME ROOSTERS? Losing to the Sharks at Shark Park is the worst kind of loss. It’s embarassing, it bodes badly for the rest of the season, and it proves that even my successful Nathan Gardner voodoo doll isn’t enough to save my team.

No wonder Nate Myles is leaving to go to the Titans. Up there it’s all sunshine and Jamal Idris and children’s tv, back in Bondi it’s driving Todd Carney to AA meetings and drowning your sorrows at the Maccas near Tom Ugly’s bridge after you lose to Cronulla.

But just when I hit the lowest point and was fighting the urge to put on a snuggie and eat a wheel of cheese as big as my head Liz Lemon-stylez … Mal Meninga inspired me.

But the big story was 25-year-old Nielsen, who has only racked up 42 first grade games since his 2008 NRL debut before getting the Origin call. 

Nielsen comes in for Inglis who is expected to be ruled out for up to a month after again injuring the hip that required pre-season surgery.

North Queensland-bred Nielsen looked overawed facing the huge media contingent in Brisbane on Tuesday but Meninga had no problem throwing him into the Origin deep end.

Asked what Nielsen could offer the side, Meninga said: “He’s a proud Queenslander.”

OH NO YOU DIDN’T MAL. YOU DID NOT JUST SAY YOU PICKED NIELSEN FOR HIS QUEENSLAND SPIRIT. As opposed to, oh say … his footy skills?

Apparently in Queensland, pride in your State is the footy equivalent of how mums suddenly get super-strength so they can lift their four-door Yukon SVUs off their squished babies in a Walmart carpark. (Why does that only happen in America, by the way?)

Forget about 15 years of training and dedication and footy education, all you need is pride! Queensland spirit conquers all!

And just like that, I was revived by how irritated Queenslanders make me!

Although I do have to give massive props to Mal for his team selection in general.

1. I find Dane Nielsen’s curly hair completely adorable. If he wasn’t a dirty Queenslander I’d travel back in time to 1993 and put an A4 poster of him from TV Hits on the back of my bedroom door like I used to do with JTT.


Boilers still got it, ladies!

2. Petero! I just like seeing that ole Oak tree out on the field. It reminds me of the time he and Steve Price were bunkmates in the ‘Boiler Room’ and I lol to myself every time.

3. Corey Parker and his AussieBum undies are a fine, fine addition to any team. I assume that the little sewing minions at AB are whipping up a range of Maroon undergarments and speedos for him as we speak. If you’re not sure on the size, maybe just go ahead and assume he wears his speedos like Chris Heighington wears his jerseys … circulation-threateningly small. The ladies and gays of Queensland will be grateful, at least.

4. A+ for effort and improvement on the legitimacy front. Well, mainly it’s probably just the result of bad luck and coincidence. But for whatever reason, the Maroons is now almost entirely made up of men from Queensland. Hurrah! GOLD STAR FOR YOU GLEN COCO. YOU GO GLEN COCO.

And how do you properly pay tribute to this new team of authentic Maroons? By introducing them under a blue spotlight to old-school 90s classics like Jump Around by house of Pain. Oh yessss. If you missed the Queensland team announcement, Imma recap that shit for you, because I think it may be just about as hilarious as that time Nips Farah and Sam Burgess were on Ready, Steady, Cook!

We open on a dimly lit Brisbane conference room. Chairman of selectors Gene Miles says stuff that is boring. He then tells us that the first player named for the Maroons squad will be Billy ‘Pony Club’ Slater.

Birry saunters out and is hit by a crazy blue spotlight as the speakers start blasting a sweet 90s mix of “Whoomp! There is is” AND “Pump Up the Jam”. Did he pick it himself? I like to think so. He carries a little cardboard sign saying ‘Billy Slater’ up to the stage and some girl who is obviously the Queensland Origin version of Adriana Xenedis takes it and puts it in a little slot on the stage backdrop.

Ooh, drama! It’s like Wheel of Fortune! Can I have an ‘M’ for Meninga, please Tony Barber?

Darius Boyd comes out to ‘Raise some hell’ and Dane Nielsen gets P!nk. Huh. Gene reads all the names so sceptically. Like there’s an implied IF THAT’S REALLY YOUR NAME after every person. The [alleged] Willie Tonga comes out and they forget to press play, so he just walks to the stage to give Adraiana his card in silence, then sits in his little seat for a few seconds while we finally get to listen to the intro to House of Pain ‘Jump Around’. Not gonna lie, I enjoyed it.

Jharal Yow Yeh rocks out to the Black Eyed Peas ‘Pump It’. And by ‘rocks out’ clearly I mean ‘walks quickly and nervously while looking at the ground and possibly blushing’.

Finally, the grande dame of Queensland footy Darren Lockyer emerges and it’s time for The Final Countdown. Seriously? I don’t even know. When I try and remember what it looked like all I can see it this:

Hey, do you guys remember the 90s trance-dance-techno hit Here’s Johnny? Well hello there Jonathan Thurston!

Matt Scott! Guns n Roses! More Queenslanders! And what song could suit Cam Smith better than Macho Man?

From now on, he shall be known as ‘The Cop’ … or ‘The Biker’. Depending on my mood. There’s totally a resemblance, right?


No Birdy, that’s not a dig at moustaches. Yours is pretty much our favourite thing in footy right now.

Petero is Bad to the Bone. Sam Thaiday gets Bad Boys. This is all so weird I can’t even explain it. The weirdest thing is that they didn’t pick either ‘Gimme More’ OR ‘Barracuda’ for Cooper Cronk. Big mistake. Huge.

I make all my coworkers watch it approximately five times. We realise Nate Myles is accidentally spelled NATE MILES on his little card.

I know, right?

Sometimes, I think Queenslanders do this shit on purpose to amuse me. The XXXX / spelling jokes write themselves, people!

And just as I start to worry that with the addition of Corey Parker, the Queensland team will be almost as adorable as my boys in blue, I snap back to my senses.

Even our 18th man is slightly oversized, often confused and completely lovable like a labrador puppy. If labrador puppies had sweet dance moves.

Aaah we love our boys. And the rest of you, get back to us at the end of July and we’ll start back up where we left off, yeah?

Pics. Getty Images

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1 

full credit to the girls

May 4th, 2011

Oh hai there kittens!

So one of your favourite things about Errol is our delightful and unabashed bias, right? But you know we are almost always right. So believe us when we tell you how fabulous Full Credit Originals is.

Yes it is founded and designed by our super special Errol friend Yasmin so obviously we are going to think it’s awesome but as you can see above…IT REALLY IS!

To celebrate her swishy new website and adorable Winter collection the lovely Yasmin is having a Twitter competition. You can win your very own Full Credit piece! For freeeeeee!

Now click this link to read all the details and enter immediately. It’s what Errol himself would want.

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1 

sassy does coachella: aka things you learn in the desert

April 29th, 2011

Before we get started, if you’re into reading and shit, I just finished reading Bossypants by Tina Fey and it’s DELIGHTFUL. She’s funny and clever and self-deprecating and tells stories about how awesome Alec Baldwin is. I felt smarter just reading it.

Also, I read it on kindle which is one of my favourite things to do, because I feel like I’m living in the future.

And if you’re into people in armour and all things nerdy, am currently obsessed with Game of Thrones. If I have to go to prison for illegally downloading, I would like it to be for this show.

But I promised a Coachella post, and dammit if I won’t deliver!

Are there some bits I don’t want to tell you about? Perhaps there are. I do some really embarassing stuff, so I like to limit the amount I put on here to just the highlights, like the time I accidentally SMS-ed Ryan Girdler, or the time I woke up with leaves in my hair.

And are there some things I don’t remember? Perhaps there are. Sometimes a girl just needs to cut loose, you know?

As for the rest of it, here goes.

1. THE CLICHES ARE TRUE

The last few times I’ve been to LA I’ve stayed in Santa Monica and spent my time tooling around on 1970s low-rider bicycles down to Venice Beach, buying friendship bracelets from the nutters on the boulevard, and eating onion rings with margarita chasers.

This time when we stayed in LA, we crashed at the Roosevelt in Hollywood and the LA cliches were all Right There. Lauren Conrad walking through the lobby! (perfect hair and super super skinny legs in leather leggings). Samantha Ronson bowling in the Spare Room! (she looks like you’d think she looks). Billy Zane at the next table over at the Chateau Marmont! (he’s kind of bloated and dresses like a Central American drug trafficker). David Beckham coming to the hotel for lunch!

I don’t get a ladyboner for Becks but I will say that in profile he is one of the most objectively beautiful men I’ve ever seen. Like Jared Leto. Like you could lick that face. It’s the same way I feel about Diane Kruger.

I saw Becks in his button-down shirt and a beanie and sunnies, but apparently when he pulled in to the driveway to give his car to the valet he was wearing an insane shiny black plastic wig over his hair.

I don’t know if this makes me vain, but I think I would rather get caught on camera by TMZ than look like this.

Meanwhile next time I stay there I’m challenging Samantha Ronson to a bowl-off because I am REALLY GOOD AT IT. Who knew? Add it to the list of reasons people assume I’m a massive lez. Right under ‘wears flannies and tracksuit pants from Lowes’, ‘played softball in year eight’ and ‘loves footy’.


Turns out – like most things – bowling is more fun when you can do it while drinking. Also CHECK MAH SWEET RENTAL SHOES.

2. YOUR GEOGRAPHY TEACHER WAS RIGHT

So on day two we picked up our car and discovered … it wasn’t there. You know when you book a car for 10am? Well in America, bitches better turn up at 10am, or they give it to someone else. Why? Who knows. It’s a mystery, like why you tip the person who brings your bags to your room, but you don’t tip the guy who brings your rental car round from the lot. They’re both JUST DOING THEIR JOBS. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE? IF I’M NOT MEANT TO TIP EVERYONE JUST GIVE THEM BADGES OR SOMETHING SO I KNOW ALREADY.

The point is you will end up driving the only car they have left, which will be an eight seater Yukon the size of a regular 2 bedroom apartment, on the freeway out to Palm Desert. And you had better not have spent the night before drinking absinthe cocktails and dancing in Hemmingways like I did, or it will be one of the most painful days of your life.

As for Palm Desert, it has lots of old people and golf courses and resorts and flamingos. So it’s kind of like … Florida without the ‘gators. And the desert in general … is really really hot. So hot you want to weep. Mrs Pizzinga was right.

3. MY ST GEORGE BANK TELLER WAS RIGHT

Two days before I left Sydney I poodled on into the bank to get some american dollars so the LAX cab driver wouldn’t yell at me again for trying to pay for my ride with a creddie. The dude asked where I was going, then told me “one of the other tellers went to Coachella. He said it was a …. loose occasion”.


Judging by this photo, I was so worried about the loose occasion, I considered hiding my possessions, prison-style.

Jason obviously knows his stuff, because Coachella is pretty much powered by medicinal marijuana, and acid is apparently back in fashion. Which means there are no aggro drunk guys in watermelon helmets, but lots of stoned people who might accidentally catch your hair on fire. You win some, you lose some.

4. DON’T TRUST A SEAMAN

Thanks to the lovely and generous Anella from EMI, we wrangled some VIP passes for the festival. And can I just say … those VIP bitches have it sweet.

In the 38 degree desert heat, the VIP sections have grass, no lines for booze, an air-conditioned bar, special fans to mist you with cool water, not to mention amazing celeb sightings like Alexa Chung, one of the Clarins sisters, Prince, Paul McCartney, Daria Werbowy, Dan Patch and Gale Harold from Hellcats, McLovin, Ke$ha, and I can’t exactly remember the rest.

I do remember seeing Pacey from Dawson’s Creek though, and I may lost my shit a little. I am so uncool.


If you need us, we’ll be by the taco stand. Mmmmm mexican.

But it’s not all fun and taco stands. I learned that you might make friends with a crazy bartender who looks like Gary Busey dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a captain’s hat, but just cause he tells you you’re pretty doesn’t mean he’s not ripping you off $4 every drink. To think I tipped that guy! Screw you, seaman!

5. AUSSIES GOTTA STICK TOGETHER

So many of the bands were so, so good. The Strokes are once again awesome, Sleigh Bells blew my mind, Kanye was incredible until he started playing chariots of fire and being a douchebag, Robyn was a dance-party-extravaganza and so was Chromeo, Bright Eyes and the National (I only saw a few songs) were heartbreaking, Alison Mosshart from the Kills is the hottest bitch ever, Cold War Kids are really good at festivals, but two of my faves were the little Aussie bands.

America is in love with Cut Copy and the Presets and they both killed it. Well done, Aussie boys!

6. MILK WAS A BAD CHOICE


Ferris wheeeeel!

So here’s how the story ends: after the third day and night of the festival, we trekked home, slept, got up and got ready to pick up our car (on time) and head back to LA. About halfway up the freeway I felt a little woozy, then a little nauseated. I announced that maybe it might, you know … be kind of a good idea to pull over, at some point, just anywhere that’s convenient, if …. OH MY GOD PULL OVER NOW NOW NOW I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT.

Of course on a freeway driving on the wrong side of the road pulling over isn’t that easy.

Which is how I ended up puking chocolate milk into an empty paper Starbucks bag in the passenger seat of a Chevy somewhere outside Palm Springs.

Ron Burgundy was right, I really really regret buying that delicious refreshing chocolate milk.

Ron Burgundy is always right.

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4 

the bitch is back, and so is steve matai

April 24th, 2011

Like Elton John, the Bitch is back. Did you miss me? I can only assume you spent the last eight days in the corners of your bathrooms, rocking gently and moaning ‘Sassy’ … yes? Thought so.


In Northern England this is how they say NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN. Men of few words.

Meanwhile apparently footy got at least 80% more fabulous and 45% more scandalous while I was gone.

I turn my back for seven days and Todd Carney is out with (alleged) assaulter Anthony Watts, getting his (alleged) drink on and (allegedly) denting the very slim hopes NSW have of actually winning an Origin series again. Why are the brilliant always so blighted by scandal and misfortune? He may have the face of that little dude on the MAD magazine covers, but in reality, Todd Carney is the Robert Downey Jr of the NRL. Oh, Ro.Ju. If only I could import him to give his special brand of wise and slightly sarcastic brand of hard-earned life advice and help Todd sort his shit out.

Sadly, Ro.Ju was not one of the 96 celebrities we spotted in LA, so that’s not gonna happen. Instead, I’m planning to do the next best thing, which is to chase Todd out of Coogee – because God knows nothing good EVER happens in Coogee – and force him to sit through the classic ‘Only You’ starring Marisa Tomei and Robert Downey Jr while we talk about our feelings. Possibly with a ‘Heart and Souls’ chaser. If that doesn’t help him turn his life around and avoid getting the sack, nothing will. Am I right?

Of course it doesn’t help that while I was dealing with the knowledge of Todd’s suspension – excuse me for a second while I wipe my tears – I was also dealing with Jharal Yow Yeh running through the Tigers’ defence at the SFS like a windy little maroon freight train.

He might as well have been wearing a blinking neon sign saying ‘THE FUTURE OF QUEENSLAND ORIGIN’ while he taunted me with his flashy step and nifty hands. Sigh.

On the other hand, Sam Thaiday might as well have been wearing a giant neon sign that said ‘LOLZ’, because he spent at least 66% of that game arguing with the referee, and there is nothing funnier than an outraged Sam Thaiday. Especially since his new haircut kind of makes him look like a man wearing a puffy ladies shower cap.

Except maybe shirtless Sam Thaiday squatting in front of a palm tree.


Wanna make something of it, bitches?

And down at Brookvale, Steve Matai did everything but wear a sign saying ‘OH HAY LET’S DANCE.’


Can I get a MA-TAI?


… OH YEAH THAT JUST HAPPENED.

Who knew this is what happens when the Matai scores a double?

Imagine the frenzied worm he would’ve busted out if the ball hadn’t headed to Wang Man Robbo and he’d managed to grab the third try.

But by far the worst thing that I missed on holiday was the dire situation over at Errol Tips. Obviously I’m feeling super party times that Suzi Firth, Bingle and the crew are in the top ten. (And check out Kiki lookin all smug!)

But then I remember …. Hoppo. Lifeguard Hoppo, who teases us mercilessly about everything, has cracked the top ten. THIS CANNOT CONTINUE. This is the same man who always alerts the helicopters when I go swimming and tells them to look out for migrating whales.


In his kids’ colouring books, Hoppo captions this ‘Sassy’

So, old man Hoppo, much as we love and respect you, and even though our parents taught us to always respect the elderly … you’re going down. It is my personal mission to beat him in 2011 footy tipping. Are you with me, kids?

But more importantly, I think I might’ve been a little jetlagged, because yesterday I passed out and didn’t wake up for twelve hours, missing two – count ‘em, TWO – valuable games of footy. What did I miss?

Pics. Getty Images

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