Pic. Getty Images

Oh, Martin. How could you do this to us, Martin Kennedy?

We always thought Martin would be remembered for:

a) being a handsome ranga (cause god knows they’re rare enough … it’s pretty much him and the Love Shack, right?)

b) being born after 1980 and somehow still being named “Martin”

c) being an Oh Errol fave – remember when we did this adorable interview with him at the Easter show?

He’s a Bertie Beetle man! So cute.

d) and the rarest of all football achievements, the SELF-INDUCED TRIP-OVER FALCON.

But then he had to play a blinder against the Tigers and tell the media that he’s a Queenslander through and through.

Gotta be honest, that grosses the hell out of me.

This isn’t half-baked. You are either a Queenslander or you’re not and I am,” Kennedy said. “It was only when I went to Queensland that I started playing footy.

“I had 12 months of playing with my mates in NSW but it was in Queensland when I started to play seriously.

“I was born in NSW but my early years were on the farm in northern NSW. When you are young you really don’t know who you want to play for.

“My idols are Shane Webcke and Steve Price.

“If you grow up in Queensland, Queensland player are your idols.

“My greatest achievement before playing first grade was making the junior Queensland sides. All the junior rep teams I made were in Queensland.

ARGH, THE COBRAS THE COBRAS! Aside from ‘miss, did you know your dress is caught in your underpants?’ those are pretty much the most upsetting words I’ve ever heard. See, I can get on board with people living their whole lives in Queensland and growing up bleeding cane toady maroon blood. But the idea of someone who’s lived, you know … anywhere else, and choosing to call themselves a Queenslander blows my damn mind. And makes me feel a little nauseated. All that maroon *shudder*

But here’s the main thing: Geoff Carr (sup Geoff! how are ya?) says they don’t know which state he qualifies yet, but the important thing is: YOU CAN ONLY QUALIFY FOR ONE. First senior game. Not one senior game, not ten. It’s not like getting on a plane and choosing the chicken or the fish. Rules are rules.

Pic courtesy of awesomestorm. Thank you missy!

Amirite or amirite Cooper Cronk?

According to our Errol-fanz, responses to this whole Martin Kennedy debacle include:

“WE DON’T EVEN NEED HIM FOR QLD!”, “Who gives a rats arse?”, and even “They can have Kennedy, we’ll take Inglis back”.

Here’s the way I see it:

If it turns out he’s a Queenslander, then crack a XXXX and let’s all smash a Red Bull and a Stillnox.

If it turns out he’s a proper Blue, then … can we turn him down? If you don’t want to play, you shouldn’t, right?

And if the answer turns out to be “he’s eligible for both and he chooses Queensland like Greg Inglis” then I will straight up cut a bitch. And if being eligible for whichever state you like most is the new rule, I will also then build a time machine and go back and put every player who idolised a NSW player straight into the Blues team. Adrian Morley, come on dowwwwn! Doesn’t matter where you’re from! Just matters that you have love in your heart and a footy in your hands.

Queensland kinda needs to make a decision here. Either State of Origin is heaps important and shit, and actually proves something, in which case you have to follow the rules. Or, it’s just a random game we play and you might as well go nuts and start buying in Maori in the Origin version of Storm-salary-cap cheating. Mal Meninga could even make a little hand-made card and post it to the Crusaders saying ‘Sonny Bill, your wish has come true! You’re a Queenslander, eh bro!’

But if you’re not gonna take it seriously, no one’s allowed to cry when they win. Kk? Deal.

In other Maroon news, the NRL’s newest coach Anthony Griffin has told his boys not to fall in love with themselves after their winning streak.

“We’ve been good but it’s really important we don’t fall in love with ourselves,” he said after naming an extended 20-man squad on Tuesday.

Oh no, no, don’t worry, boys. When he says ‘love yourselves’ he didn’t mean THAT.

Ben Hannant, it’s okay. You can go back drinking your water, it was just a metaphor.

And Sammy Thaiday, don’t look so sad, since it’s a metaphor you can still have Special Alone Times if you want to.

And last, but not least, another man who wears a maroon uniform is in trouble for not keeping something in his pants.

Well of course Anthony Watmough is in trouble for peeing on the Corso. Oh, Watmough. And I won’t judge, because I’ve read the bible, and I’m pretty sure there’s a bit in there about letting she who has never peed in the street at night cast the first stone.

All I know is fish gotta swim. If you have a keg like Watmough in your second row, sometimes he pees in the street. Or calls someone’s outfit slutty. Or turns up to a community event in white board shorts.

He’s just … Watmough. Amirite, Cooper Cronk?

It’s a first for the season, y’all! I would like to congratulate Craig – also known as Rugby1847, or CRAIG THE TIGER – on being the first seppo to crack the top ten of the ErrolTips competition ladder in 2011.

Craig, if you don’t know him, is one of our beloved Jacksonville Axemen, infamous for (allegedly) being cautioned in a New York airport for roaming the airport on all fours, pretending to be a tiger, and attempting to lick a female passenger’s leg. This is why we LOVE HIM.

Overall, the ladder looks a little something like this:

And yep, there he is, just behind all the Aussies, Errol-friendz/relatives and mystery-tippers. As for where I am …. nowhere. Nothing to see here. Let’s change the topic.

OH HEY, IS THAT A UNICORN?

*disappears*

Pic. Robert Peet via SMH

I believe that Bennett stands somewhere below Jack Gibson, which is somewhere just above God.

- Roy Masters

Meeeemories, like the corners of my miiiiiiiind ….

Uncle Wayne, did you have to leave so soon? He told the world today that he’s getting his ass out of Kogarah (yes, yes and the Gong! Put down your pens and stop writing complaint emails, Steelers fans) at the end of 2012.

But then … we knew that didn’t we? It was only ever a short-term thing. Wayne was the kind of guy who floats into the Dragons’ life, reminds them that romance still exists, picks them flowers, makes them feel alive, wins them a premiership, then gets back into his dusty old pick-up and drives on.

You know, like in the Bridges of Madison County.

… why do you think the players call him Clint Eastwood?

Y’all know it, bitches!

But we’ve had some good times between us in the last two years, while he was rocking the Red V.

Remember when Kiki showed him her Dragons necklace, then touched his arm and told him it was like touching Jesus?

Remember all the special times he shared in the coaches box with Hot Bitch Cooper?

Not to mention the time they replayed the Wayne Bennett Australian Story on the ABC and I stupidly re-watched it and cried like a bitch. Again. Listen to him talk about his son without weeping like a lost kid in Franklins. DO IT. I DARE YA.

And of course, the time I like to call The Unpleasantness, when he led the Dragons in a crushing grand final win over my gorgeous little trouble-making Chooks. Sigh.

And here’s the deal: “it’s not about money”. Which, if you ask me, is bitch-crazy. If that was me I’d be raking in cash and buying the shit out of the whole of Melrose Avenue.

But reading between those lines, Uncle Wayne’s looking for a new project. He’s on the hunt for his next downtrodden, disillusioned housewife so he can restore her faith in love.

Which means if you are an NRL club that no one – EVER – expects to win a premiership again, you’re in luck. Roll up kids, if you’re a confirmed loser without any kind of hope at all, you could be the winner of a SHINY NEW WAYNE BENNETT.*

*COMES COMPLETE WITH PREMIERSHIP TROPHY.

Knights fans? Cowboys fans? … Come one, come all! Leave your applications in the comments section, why don’t ya?

ATTENTION READERS: THIS POST CONTAINS 80% OF A PERSON’S DAILY MENTAL NUTRITION.

Welcome darlings! It’s the first game recap of 2011, and it should have happened a lot sooner. It couldn’t though, because for the last three weeks I’ve been living with no internet. NO INTERNET. IN MY HOME. It’s straight-up torture. My flattie and I are thisclose to just giving up on modern life and going full Amish, churning our own butter and marrying dudes called Samuel. Then at least I could wear adorable brightly coloured maxi-skirts like whatever that movie is where Kirstie Alley makes over an Amish community while she’s on the run from the law.

What was my point? Oh yes, it’s the Cowboys v the Storm, it’s in Townsville (meet you in the casino after the game) and it’s raining.

The Fox boys tell us this will be a “clash of two great halfbacks”, which I think we all know means “an 80 minute battle to see who’s the best at bitching out referees”.

Warren says “Jonathan Thurston, what a battle it will be against Cooper Cronk”. Luckily, Waz is not referring to a real battle, because I think we all know that if this was a real battle Cooper Cronk would straight up spear someone in the eye, while JT would be the one at the back, hiding in a haystack weeping, and wearing an enemy uniform underneath his own just in case he’s about to get captured.

We know this because Cooper Cronk is a fierce bitch. And even Craig Bellamy agrees:

See? Fierce! (And thanks to Eliescha for finding it xx)

The game starts with Brian Norrie – or as we like to call him, Johnny Anonymous -  losing the ball, the Storm giving away a penalty, and Cam Smith wearing an elastoplast headband. With his stubble and his headband all diagonal and askew, he looks vaguely like a homeless Vietnam Vet.

When he says ‘spare a dollar’, it means ‘kick a field goal’.
Pic. Getty Images

Billy Slater chases up a Storm kick and tackles Matt Bowen and I am overwhelmed by cuteness. What can I say? I have a weakness for fullbacks on the lower end of the neck-length-spectrum.

The Storm fire up another grubbery kick, and if you can take a minute or two to watch this handy YouTube clip, I think TLC sum up my feelings on this game better than any other words could. U-N-P-R-E-T-T-Y.

Kalifa Fai Fai Loa gets his first touch, and as always when I hear his name pronounced ‘Fai Fai Law’ I feel like we’re talking about an obscure maritime treaty and giggle cause I’m a massive nerd.

Little Matty Bowen (yes that is his official name. Feel free to call him LMB) offloads and the ball gets to Will Tupou for a try on the right, but JT misses the conversion cause he’s too busy thinking how much of a bitch I am for saying he’d be a terrible soldier.

Hey, did you remember Anthony Quinn existed? I totally didn’t. Soz Quinny.

Kalifa Fai Fai Loa picks up the a Storm kick from just in front of the try line, runs it back, keeps running, OMG HE’S STILL RUNNING GO KALIFA GO GO GO! He drops it out to LMB for a beautiful try. LMB seems to think about diving in like a showpony, but resists. I like to think it’s cause he just really cares about safety. OH&S, y’all!

JT makes it 10-0, and when Ashley Graham barnstorms past Anthony Quinn I make a conscious effort to forget Anthony Quinn again.

Laurie Daley tells us that you always have to be aware with Cam Smith that he can kick, and that he’s looking to kick 40 …. 20s. In the 8 or 9 mintue pause between saying the words ’40′ and ’20′, Cam Smith kicks a 40-20.

An error to melbourne. An error to NQ. Waz says “it’s a greasy old night”. Mmmm greasy. I could smash a sausage roll.

Kevin Proctor makes a run of approximately minus 15 metres, Cronk kicks on the 5th tackle, it’s batted off to Sika Manu who .. loses the ball when he’s tackled from behind. It’s bleak. If you didn’t see it, just imagine Sika Manu trying to ground the ball, and replace each hand with one of these:

Yep, it was like that.

Cooper Cronk is not pleased with this turn of events. He’s screaming wildly for Justin O’Neill to kick the ball, but instead he passes to Billy Slater who … passes to the ground.

Pic. Getty Images

Considering I tipped the Storm this is wildly depressing, so let’s all take a moment to lift our spirits with a glorious picture of Flossy Nightingale …. um, well I don’t really know what he’s doing. Maybe he’s chasing butterflies. Or passing an imaginary football. He’s just Flossy, you know?

Bless.

The Cowboys reach their fifth tackle, take a kick, every man and his dog chases it in-goal. Dane Nielsen gets kneed in the face and rolls his ankle simultaneously. Ashley Graham somehow decides to go all Paul Mercurio and slides in on both knees, then knee-butts the ball dead. I would explain it but I … I don’t even know.

Everyone at Errol HQ is enjoying the Cowboys’ recent uniform redesign.

To my surprise and delight, someone in the stands reboots the Melbourne mixing desk and the Storm bust out a beautiful set play for Gareth Widdop to score a try. Cam Smith kicks a kick of amazingness for a 10-6 scoreline. Pretty sure I just heard a player yelling ‘what the fuck’ caught on the referee’s mike. I agree, mystery player. I agree.

Pic. Getty Images

Coming back from halftime, Tariq Sims goes for a strip on Billy Slater and is penalised. Of course he is. Sims boys attract penalties like flames attract moths. To explain it in footy terms, the Sims family is to penalties what Luke O’Donnell is to punch-ups. And to hotness. Oh Luke O’Donnell, we miss you already.

Sika Manu is taken off with leg troubles. Tonight is really not his night. It’s possible he’s offended the gods.

I notice Cameron Smith has taken off his headband. Did I offend him?

The Cowboys run in a try through Ash Graham and there is absolutely no doubt of any kind that the tipping gods hate me. This is the worst. 16-6 Cowboys.

I  miss about 10 minutes of the game because I happen to find this article online.

Perhaps it is because of the criticism that Andrew Johns has been ordained the next Immortal by some experts.

In what universe is Andrew Johns getting an easier ride to potential immortality than Darren Lockyer? Excuse me while my head explodes.

When I actually remember there’s footy on, Lozza is telling me Widdop is “a good mover on his feet”. As opposed to not on his feet. I love you, footy commentary. Never, ever change.

Matty Bowen runs in a beautiful try and grounds it with his torso from a JT kick for 22-8, and Ash Graham bags a double for 28-6. Just to clear things up, when the cmmentators say Matty Bowen is “changing his wheels” on the sideline, they are not talking about the “PAUL GALLEN GRABBED ME ON THE WHEELS” kind of wheels. They mean his shoes.

Proctor mounts a massive hit on Bowen, Billy saves a Fai Fai Loa try with a kick to the grandstand. If only my campaign for a rugby league six-and-out rule last year had worked. I won’t even get started on my petition for the shirtless v pantsless All-Stars.

The Fox boys tell me Ash Graham “has 19 runs tonight”. No wonder Billy is confused.

Melby have only one person on the bench, btw. Which is just like the Roosters on Sunday arvo, except that this wasn’t Neil Henry’s fault.

To finish off the rain-soaked tipping carnage, Tariq Sims somehow manages to run in a try without getting penalised, and it’s 34-6. Did that really just happen? Is this a betting scandal game again? Because I am 99% sure I’m not drunk.

Andy Raymond interviews “a very happy Dallas Johnson”, who looks pretty much the same as angry Dallas Johnson, and sad Dallas Johnson, and all other Dallas Johnsons. How could Andy even tell? Maybe Dallas just announces his feelings, like ladies with botox have to do.

I AM VERY HAPPY.
I AM VERY ANGRY.

Cooper Cronk tells Australia that: “I know this sounds silly, we’re not really focussed on winning games at the moment.” WELL THAT’S LUCKY COOPER CRONK.

Wayne Pearce tells us this win will be good for the Cowboys, because it’s like “mental nutrition”. Hello my new favourite phrase.

Stay tuned for a wrap of my all-round terrible tipping and the Erroltips leader board later this week.

Well this week has been truly, truly terrible. Not exaggerating, it was worse than the day I discovered that Peter Everett was leaving Ready Steady Cook. NO! PETER! Remember the good times we had recapping his adventures in gropery with Sam Burgess and Robbie Farah? Sigh. I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably sitting at home watching Elizabeth Taylor documentaries and eating chicken crimpies straight from the box.

No, this is much, much worse. Readers, I tipped two out of eight. TWO. Which means that while our shiny Errol leaderboard for people who are vaguely competent and tip more than TWO in a round looks a little something like this:

… and that’s right, my name is nowhere to be seen on it. Where am I, you might ask?

OH THERE I AM. FOUND MY NAME. JUST CHILLIN’ DOWN AT NUMBER 60. Yep, number 60. This means I’m doing worse at footy tipping than Lifeguard Hoppo. And no offence to Hoppo, because he saves drowning Irish backpackers and is tre hilarious and has lovely blue eyes and we generally adore him, but, well … this shit is dire. Hoppo is approximately 70 years old and it’s a miracle he can even use the internet so the fact that he is beating me at tipping is terrible and cannot be allowed to continue.

Bottom line? I blame the Sharks. Clearly that Shane Flanagan is an olive-skinned supercoach. The Sharks out-defended, out-controlled, out-patienced and out-Dragonsed the Dragons. Except, you know, that the Dragons don’t have a carpark that doubles as a swamp and needs to be closed when it’s raining heavily and mother nature requires it back to use as a water catchment. I assume that’s what the recent renovations at WIN Jubilee were adding.

Coincidentally, Wade Graham has clearly been on some kind of Dragons and Jamie Soward-inspired regime because if you dressed the two of them in red and yellow they are both straight-up nuggets.

Mmmm … nuggets.

What was my point? Oh yes, remember when Wade Graham was just a teeny blue-eyed teen making his debut alongside Lachlan Coote? And Lachie was on his way to being awarded his Boy Scout patch for Irish Dancing?

Pic. Getty Images

They grow up so damn fast. Now Lachie’s doing business studies and Wade’s just one more off-season away from having a rig as big as Paul Gallen’s.

More importantly, remember when the Roosters played good footy? As in … LAST WEEK? The memory seems as distant as the memory of Jarrod Mullen playing Origin. (Funnily enough, the memory of Jarrod Mullen bending over in front of me at a charity golf day two years ago is still as clear as crystal. Gotta thank your mother for a butt like that).

What we’ve learned is that a Gidley-less Newcastle is successful, the Cowboys are still capable of being more dreadful than your wildest dreams, and this season, no team is invincible.

The closest we’ve got is the Melbourne Storm, led by the fiercest bitch in league, Cooper Cronk.

Pic. Getty Images

See how Cam Smith is smiling in joy and celebration? Meanwhile Cooper Cronk is:

a) making a mental note to pick up some hair product on the way home;

b) figuring out exactly how he can kneecap Jonathan Thurston and steal his State of Origin halfback jersey without attracting the attention of the cops.

Here’s a hint, Coops: do it with a crutch in a Brisbane casino and everyone will just assume it was JT’s own fault.

So, bearing in mind how unpredictable footy is this year, here are our ridiculous predictions for round three:

Souths, those lucklass japesters, will win a match. Sassy will then declare her love for Greg Inglis, despite him being a Queenslander.

Braith Anasta will compliment the refs on their fine and reasonable decision-making.

Feleti Mateo will make spot-on offloads and set up three tries.

Peter Everett will join the footy show.

COME ON UNIVERSE MAKE IT HAPPEN!

Mazeltov, kittens! (I can say mazeltov now because I found out last year I’m officially Jewish. Surprise-Jew!)

Mazeltov, congratulations and happy happy days because footy is officially back.

Well, happy days for everyone except John Cartwright. Let’s drag out a picture from 2010 that already sums up the current state of mind of Oh Errol’s reigning sexiest coach in league:

… so, pretty much as normal then. And what about Des Hasler?

Yup, still throwing the semi-regular tanty. So the world is as it should be. Carry on, then.

And just like you know that it’s Christmas when you see the ham shelf at the deli is empty, the department stores start pumping out Kenny G carols, or when drunk girls start roaming the street dressed as slutty santas … there are a few telltale signs that footy is upon us.

For one thing, Freddy Fittler and Joey Johns appear back on your tv like two comical little angels of lolz. Watching them giggle on channel nine is music to our ears, like the laughter of children playing with the Christmas toys. Except it’s unlikely Freddy or Joey will pull anyone’s hair or vomit after drinking part of the mysterious chemical solution that came with their Magic Garden.*

* Unlikely, but not impossible.

note: may not be actual Morris.

You also know it’s that time o’year when a Morris brother (this time it was Josh) streaks away on his long, long bambi legs to score an 80+ metre try. No one catches a Morris! They’re adorable little genetic freaks!

Next thing you know, a player we adore is struck down by injury. This is heartbreaking, and inevitable. Like finding out that the teeny tiny box under the tree you thought was from Cartier is actually tiny because it contains a gift voucher from Katies. Devo.

Little Joshie Morris and Sam ‘Ready Steady Cook‘ Burgess are both out for at least a month, Manu ‘fierce bitch’ Vatuvei is gone for two months, and baby Chase Stanley and Scott Geddes are gone for the season. HEARTBREAK. It’s just Katie’s vouchers and Nickelback CDs all over the place.

These are the times when I’m grateful I have the Daily Telegraph to keep things in perspective.

Forget about players’ emotional health or Johnny Lang and his attempts to figure out his line up for the Bunnies’ next game even though he can’t find his glasses and no one will listen to his old man stories: WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF OUR FANTASY TEAMS?

In other, less shocking news, Parramatta didn’t suck in round one. Do you know why this isn’t surprising? Cause you totally read my preview over on One HD where I said they wouldn’t suck.

Right? Thought so. THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT GUYZ.

And because I’m heaps good at watching movies and heaps good at writing shit, I believe I compared Stephen Kearney and his rag-tag crew of lifesavers, old men and Daniel Mortimer to Gene Hackman and his team of ringers in the feel-good family classic ‘the Replacements’.

From now on I shall refer to him exclusively as Gene. Gene Kearney. Dan Mortimer can be Keanu Reeves.

Meanwhile I can’t wait till Parra make the top eight and people start wearing Hackman masks on the train. The Gene-Train!

And in the least shocking news of all, Uncle Wayne’s Dragons are still carving up the NRL. Because Uncle Wayne is the ultimate life coach. His book even made Kiki have feelingz and we all know she almost never has those.

The only thing we don’t know is where he’s going next year. It’s like NRL lotto … no matter what your team, you could be the winners! And your prize is a shiny new premiership delivered in the hand of Wayne Bennett.

And you know you’d accept him too. Don’t lie. I mean like Brian Smith and all … he got us to the grand final, and I find it cute and fitting that he coaches the Roosters and kinda looks like a little chicken, also he was super-polite to me when I interviewed him at Ringrose Park. But I’d still trade him in for Uncy Wayne.

It’s like the freebie five for married couples. If you meet anyone on your freebie five, you can shag ‘em, and your husband can’t complain. Which makes Wayne Bennett the coaching version of Hot Bitch Cooper.

Or, I dunno, Beyonce if you’re a dude.

HERE’S A LOLZ GRAPHIC WE PREPARED EARLIER AND RE-USED CAUSE WE’RE LAZY.

Now there’s a game recap coming later this week, but first let’s check in on Erroltips 2011.

We have 113 intrepid tippers on board so far, the tiny vodka bottles are being handed out as we speak, and as of week one, the leader board looks like this:

This is a vitally important Errol post!

Is it a scented hand-writted note in which we apologise for a lack of posting frequency? Well of course not. Because love means never having to say you’re sorry.

Although yes, as always, we have been ridiculously busy. For example, today I did important things like cleaning the lint out of my dryer cause it kept making a weird beeping noise. I also spent a good ten minutes listening to the following educational conversation in my workplace about the Quiksilver Pro:

1: how do the surfers know who’s winning?
2: they say it over the loudspeaker from the beach, like ‘red is winning, white you need an 8.4 on this wave to take the lead’
1: well you’re screwed if you’re deaf then
2: deaf people would never be pro surfers, cause of their balance
1: you’re kidding, deaf people have BETTER balance
2: no they don’t! it’s like an inner-ear thing
1: no, because they can’t hear it means all their other senses are heightened
2: balance isn’t a sense!

Instead, this post is us asking you for a favour. As JFK said, ask not what Errol can do for you … ask what you can do for Oh Errol.

(Don’t worry, it doesn’t involve getting off the couch, or spending money).

On Friday, we kick off the JUGGERNAUT that is the Oh Errol 2011 tipping comp. If you haven’t joined it, you’re only contributing to the chances that I will win again, and my ridiculously massive ego will only get larger. Do you want to be responsible for that? Hmmmmmm?

Of course not. So hustle over and join for your chance to take home a selection of ffaaaaabulous cash and prizes.*

JOIN THE OH ERROL TIPPING COMP

* may not be actual cash and prizes.

See ya next week for the first week’s tipping update and another year of footy recaps, ranting and objectification xx

pic. Gold Coast Titans

Clear out the tumbleweeds, your bitches are back!

We’ve been up on the Goldy for All-Stars week, which, along with City-Country week, is basically the footy blogger version of Christmas. What were we doing, you ask? Well, obviously we were generally hanging around, being loud, and making pervy comments. Cause, you know, fish gotta swim.

But in between we made some little videos for OneHD:

Benji Marshall told us some seriously weird shit about sharing a bed with Liam Fulton

Scott Prince told us that George Rose reckons he’s “the best dancer over 100kgs” - do they have dance-related weight classes? Like in boxing? They totally should.

Laurie Daley told us just how often Jamal Idris falls asleep

Feleti Mateo admitted he’s scared of heights

Freddy Fittler explained how Petero Civoniceva is the WORST SURFER IN THE WORLD

We gave a valentine to George Rose

We looked like hobbits standing next to Cory Paterson

Shaun Kenny-Dowall talked about chicken (of course he did)

… and Josh Dugan was generally adorable.

The only sad thing is that so much awesomeness didn’t make it into our videos. We wish you could’ve seen Jamal Idris put Cliff Lyons in a play-headlock, or the under-16s player from Queensland who HAD A FULL BEARD. Or when we asked Greg Bird for an interview and he thought the mike was for karaoke: “oh, do you want me to sing?”

Sing Billy Joel, Birdy!

Or the afternoon at White Water World when a photographer asked Preston Campbell to pick up a kid in the wave pool one more time so he could capture it on film and the kid freaked the hell out. If you haven’t seen a kid in Preston’s arms yelling ‘F*CK! LET ME GOOOOO!’ like a stranger-danger educational video, you haven’t lived. Amazing.

We may also have given Cory Paterson a marshmallow rose to make up for the fact that we didn’t get him a special Valentine’s gift like the sweet teddy bear we bought for George Rose. See! We still love ya Cory!

But possibly the weirdest moment of the trip was as we left the All-Stars game at Skilled and Sassy was explaining – loudly, because she’s loud – how weird it is that everyone in Queensland is in love with Darren Lockyer (they totally are).

Then, all of a sudden, a dude in a Maroons jersey puffing on a durry appeared from nowhere and said “DID YOU HEAR THAT? SOMEONE’S TALKING SHIT ABOUT LOCKY!”

Is there some kind of … bat signal? Like a cut-out of Locky’s head that alerts Queenslanders when someone questions their footballing hero? Where did he come from? How did he knowwwwww?

Maybe he’s friends with the girl who sat next to us in the stands and had Queenslander tattooed on her back. In maroon. Queenslanders, you amaze us.

But there was one little bit of All-Stars magic that we caught on video just for y’all. Greg Bird has a conspiracy theory and he wants you to know all about it:

IT’S A MEDIA CONSPIRACY! You know it’s true. How else could one man have a record of SO MANY unflattering photos? You know it makes sense.

Now we’ll leave you with a selection of our favourite photos taken by Kiki and Yasmin. How many sleeps till All-Stars 2012?

Kittens, apologies. Why did it take us more than 24 hours to post about the Legends of Origin match in Parramatta on Thursday night?

WE HAD A LOT OF SHIT TO DO. God.

It took us at least 2.5 hours to build our life-size shrine to Sam Backo … not to mention the multiple trips we had to make to Eastgardens shopping centre to procure enough newspaper and clag so we could make enough papier mache so we could replicate his glorious gut.

We also enrolled Intern Lachie in a summer school electronics course at TAFE. If all goes according to plan, in four to six weeks the papier mache Sam Backo will be able to automatically wipe his own gut with a towel JUST LIKE THE REAL SAM BACKO DID AT HALFTIME. Have you ever seen a greater sight than him in the locker room? We half expected him to pull out a turkey leg and munch away. What an amazing human.

Needless to say the concept of the Legends of Origin game turned out to be more amazing than we even dreamed. We both had actual goosebumps for most of the game.

Before we watched it, we thought Mark Geyer was heaps smart n shit for coming up with it, and that it was a brilliant cause and needed to be supported.

After we watched it, we had to have cold showers and a short sit down. All our childhood heroes in one place! Someone hold us while we swoon!

Gary Belcher, that old swaggering dreamboat! Remember when we made Andy Raymond tell Gary Belcher we thought he was a hot old man? And he took a photo in the Foxsports commentary box just to make us shut the hell up?

Well now we know that Badge isn’t just a Handsome Older Man, he’s still got some footwork on the field too. Kiki’s more obsessed than ever.

Although truthfully? That bitch has nothing on Cliffy Lyons setting up a brilliant try. Feet! Hands! Speed! Skill! Moustache! He’s incredible enough that we can’t even make sentences.

Gorden Tallis, Brett Hodgson-throwing champion and dancer extraordinaire. Crank up Flo Rida’s ‘Low’ and the man is like the rugby league version of Paul Mercurio in Strictly Ballroom. If Paul Mercurio was a giant indigenous league player with a penchant for hip hop music.

And in a blues jersey once again, Steelers legend Rod Wishart. WISHART! The man with the glass bones! A man who looks pretty much EXACTLY the same now as when he retired.

Facing up against Robbie O’Davis, who looks at least 8,000 times more shredded than he did when he played football. That bitch is like a human batman suit! You could shred cabbage on those nips. Abs. Whatever.

Consequently, Sassy has now been on a health and fitness plan for a full 48 hours, inspired by Robbie ‘the Machine’ O’Davis. He’s like an anatomy diagram. She figures if a footy player with a broken nose and probably impaired breathing to go with it can be that ripped, then she can at least be the kind of person who doesn’t live entirely on vodka, carbs and cheese.

It’s the same kind of attitude that made her start up a new fake-tanning regime when she saw that Shaun ‘Pinkman’ Kenny-Dowall now has a summer tan. She’s determined like that.

But mainly, the reason we took so long to say anything was cause we were recovering from the swoon-worthy sight of Freddy Fittler and Ryan Girdler together, on a footy field, in Blues jerseys.

Does Freddy know where he is? Of course not. He’s just thinking about eating a muffin.

Remember when Freddy won the Chooks the premiership? Remember when Girds had a flowing mane of black hair and scored 32 points to kick Queensland’s arse in origin? Remember when we didn’t hate ourselves? Remember when NSW was good at Origin?

REMEMBER WHEN RYAN GIRLDER DID A ‘THEIR HOUSE’ SEGMENT WITH FREDDY AND IT WAS THE GREATEST TELEVISION MOMENT YOU’VE EVER SEEN?

Fast forward straight to 5:46 and enjoy. So good. So very, very good.

To this day, whenever we see a kitchen counter, we still pretend to walk down stairs and say ‘let’s go down to the cellar’ … ‘there is no cellar!’ like Freddy.

Let’s talk about the fact Jason Smith used the half time break to…wait for it…SMOKE A CIGARETTE. We have picture proof!

Wow…..just wow.

Also, before we put this blog up, we had to go find ‘Tony Trim’ on facebook and like the hell out of him.

Trimster? You’re our new hero.

He paid $12,000 bucks to wear a blues jersey, ran out on the field, took a chip from Freddy and SCORED FOR NSW. And in case that wasn’t awesome enough, he tried to start biff with Gorden Tallis.

Marry us, Trimster? Or if you won’t do that, at least come play for NSW at Origin time. Not kidding. Seriously. We need you. You can have Kurt Gidley’s spot.

As for you, MG? What a pussycat. We could not love you more. Never ever change.

PS – The excitement of this game was such that we tweeted like mad women, people replied over and over again and low and behold….WE WERE THE NUMBER ONE TRENDING TOPIC IN AUSTRALIA! We trended over the Australian Open. Remember this day people, this is as famous as we will ever be.

We don’t mean to offend you if you’re not massive fans of Australia Day, but we love us a public holiday whichever way it comes. We also all feel unbelievably lucky that somehow we got to grow up in the place called Oz (and not just because it’s the home of NRL).

Now we’re sure you’re all classy dudes, so you’re probably not out taunting recent immigrants and getting racist tatts. Instead, we hope you’ll spend your day doing something uniquely oz.

Walk hungover to the corner shop with no shirt on. Buy an orange juice.

Watch cricket on the couch in wet swimmers.

Complain about the heat but refuse to turn on the air con on. Lie in front of a fan instead.

Improvise! In the grand tradition of Aussie ingenuity, build a shelter for your beachside barbecue from towels.

Related note: one of our favourite stories about World War 2 is that, when the rats of Tobruk were under-funded, under-trained and under-supplied, and had to fight against Germans with tanks … what did they do? Tied guns to the backs of trucks, of course. DIY tanks!

Draw a dirty word on someone with zinc.

Lovingly call someone the same race as you a racial insult.

Usethe phrase “that’s faaaarcked”.

Go to the movies and watch something American and full of explosions.

Listen to the Triple J hottest 100 and complain about Aussie hip hop.

Wear a watermelon hat to the Big Day Out and have it confiscated.

Make a beer snake at the cricket and have it confiscated.

Get violently sunburnt.

Buy sausages in a packet that doesn’t specify what kind of meat is inside.

Buy organic lamb and rosemary gluten-free sausages for $29 and serve with fetta salad.

Squeeze your adult body into a children’s wading pool.

Eat yum cha.

And in the words of Errol Flynn: “remember, when Australians fight, they fight for keeps”.

Love,

Kiki, Sassy and Lozzy.