I Love A Wedding - Even In Oz

Off, then, to Australia for me old mate Sully’s wedding.

And what a week it was. He showed us the bright lights of Brisbane town, I got a tan and spent the day itself surrounded by and looking out for, four gorgeous bridesmaids. Where I come from we’d call that a result.

Now admittedly Australia is a grand place, but there’s something about the thing that just gets on my tits. And not just because it’s full of Aussies.

Actually I met several nice ones whilst there and spotted just as many on their lunch break in the city centre. The inner city girls are a very stylish lot who clearly take a pride in their appearance, so much so I wonder just how anyone manages to work around them. I know I couldn’t.

It got me wondering what they’ve done with all the average looking folk, because I didn’t see many. Maybe it was just that I was so busy trying to check out the female cast of Home and Away that I didn’t notice anyone normal.

Oh and the little school uniforms they wear on shows like that? No one wears anything remotely arousing as that in inner suburbs of Brisbane town and believe me, I checked. Several times. How many disappointed paedophiles have travelled to Australia on the basis of that one I wonder?

Somewhat bizarrely the only crowd that stood out more from the nubile and well dressed were those moving about in small gangs that were neither goth nor emo, but yet all looked like they had hepatitis. It must be an Aussie thing.

The one thing that they do really well, in Queensland anyway, is their roads. They, like slavery, just get shit done. Everything is two or three lanes, minimum and that’s just the residential areas and whereas here in NZ it takes years to fill a pot hole at the end of your street, the Ossies erect things like main arterial bridges between your Gold Coast visits. And we were only there three years ago!

But then the place is so damn big they have to really.

Everything is about carving the quickest route from Point A to Point B and minimising disruption while they do so. Whereas in NZ every second road worker leans on a spade as you take an hour to crawl through 50 metres of roadwork, they just get on with it. In Brisbane they shut down one lane, leaving three. No fucken dramas.

All of which was secondary to the real reason we were that and that was, of course, to see my good mate and fellow World Cup football sweepstake conspirator, Sully, marry his gorgeous misses, Jess. I had the honour of being a groomsman which has all the coolness of the best man with none of the responsibility!

I did take it upon myself to look after Jess and the girls whenever I could. I won’t lie to you; it is an unpleasant job looking after five stunning young ladies but I think I managed to pull it off and what’s more, I have the photos to prove it. I don't think it's a job I'd ever get tired of either...

So well done Mr and Mrs O’Sullivan; you two were outstanding and it was I, for once, who was a close second.

Top 5: Guys I'd Go Gay For

Whilst having the time of my life with my girls last weekend, we got to talking. About many things, but mostly boys, which was cool by me because for about 16 years of my life I was actually one.

Okay, 18 if you count full pubes but hey, let’s not stress about the finer details. Naturally I was able to offer the girls many an insight to the pubescent mind, possibly because I still have one and at some point I declared that ‘I would go gay’ for a certain fella which set them right off.

Naturally I had to explain myself and reveal my full list of man love. So here it is. Fellas, find yourself a nice quiet spot, borrow the moisturiser from the missus and keep the tissues handy because you’re going to need them...

Fernando Torres

What a guy, what a footballer. He’s a bit cake right now but on his day he has a first touch that makes me feel like a little girl, he really does. Admittedly Lionel Messi is a better player but he’s an ugly man whereas Fernando has it going on; the freckles, the legs and the casual elegance of a cheetah. Personally I liked his hair longer, would give a fella something to hang on to...

Bear Grylls

Any man who can give himself a dirty water enema can hide my soap on a rope any time he damn well wishes.

Alexander Skarsgaard

The coolest vampire on the block and the best damn Sergeant since Zeke Anderson, Alex is the most exciting Swedish thing we want to be inside since the Volvo. Just look at that torso, somebody get the guy a plaster because he’s cut and get this; the guy doesn’t wear a modesty sock when filming nude scenes. Fuck. Yeah.

David Beckham

I’ve never made it a secret that Becks can bend me any way he likes. I even copied his hairstyle once, possibly twice.

Ryan Reynolds

Is as close to me as it’s gonna get ladies; we’re both ridiculously funny, have great abs and wear a beard well, damn well. So who else would I want to have a tender homosexual experience with than the guy who reminds me of myself?

Kickin' It With My Girls

Just when I thought that memorable weekends were a thing of the past I have two of my Top Five, ever, in the one year.

First was Melski’s and Emski’s wedding in May. Second was just this weekend past and our taking my girls football team to the world famous in NZ McCartney tournament in Taupo.

Now I’ve coached a lot of football, seven years worth to be exact, but I’ve never had a team that has left me with such a sense of reward as my girls have this season. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys too, not in an NAMBLA way mind you, but girl’s football is different to that of the boys.

Oh and I recommend you don’t Google that particular acronym unless you really want to see the Department of Internal affairs confiscate your hard drive in a 6am dawn raid.

Girls approach the game differently. They play in the true spirit of the game where with the boys stuff gets real serious real fucken quick and pretty soon no one is really enjoying themselves. Unless you’re winning, then that’s pretty cool.

My girls still have that same desire to win but they go about it differently. They look at the game holistically and understand that to win they all need to play well as a team. Boys will always try and do it alone. Always.

My girls also soak stuff up like a sponge. If I teach one of them a turn I know I’ll see it executed the very next game, do the same with my boys and I’ll be waiting weeks before they decide that they’ll give it a go.

And I had forgotten how much fun girls in a group are, particularly between the ages of 11 and 14 like mine are. Needless to say once someone mentioned that they’d be carrying my balls on the road trip up it became the running joke that I could never quite live down. And here was I thinking I had heard every in-your-end-o comment that could be made regarding balls in a bag...

On the field they did me proud, off it they were just as impressive. Not that they were the only ones; an early highlight of the weekend was a group of older girls calling out to me “nice boots”. Oh yes. You know you’ve made good in the footballing world when shit hot female footballers dig your F30’s..

There is one added advantage of having 11 & 12 year old girls in the car; they don’t mind the songs you have on your iPod that you chose in the hope it would somehow help you regain your youth, because they sing along to Lady Gaga and Ke$ha just as loud as you do. The Jonas Brothers track did raise an eyebrow though, admittedly.

So girls, heaven forbid none of you ever read this because this blog is filthy and clearly written by someone very immature, but if you are or do, you should know that you rocked my world this weekend.

I hereby adopt you all as my own.

There's Something About Katy (Still)

Dear Katy,

On the off chance that you’re not filling yourself with even more Home Brand Porridge and instead are reading this, then please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’m over you.

I would tweet you this life changer but alas my life is incredibly boring so I really have nothing of interest to say. That puts me in the same bracket as 95% of Twitter users but there you go.

Why just moments ago I was ironing my shirts for work, watching your video hits on one of our local music channels. Mind numbingly boring it was too. The ironing, not your videos.

Anyhoo, it occurred to me, whilst watching a visual selection of your songs to date, that I really fancied the hot pants off you more when you were kissing girls, running hot & cold and waking up in Vegas.

You had that something special about you that is sadly, no longer there. Back then you were all that and a bag of chips, now you know it and that’s not sexy.

I think things started to go downhill in this relationship of ours when you did the Timbaland song and let’s not even get started on the collaboration with those gaylords who can’t even spell ‘303’...thankfully they didn’t play that video today.

Which lead to ripping off the Beach Boys in your collaboration with Snoop.

Now I must admit that you spraying whipped cream from your boobs is a little bit kinky and that yes, lying naked on a bed of candyfloss is very naughty. Stripping down in a hotel room like a teenager is indeed wet dream stuff, but yet, I was more turned on at the thought of pressing my cuffs perfectly.

Where did the magic go KP?

I used to dig your crazy sexy cool mixture of confidence and vulnerability, now you’re just everywhere an all over everything. I used to love your cool, kooky, vintage dress sense too but now its blue hair and shit. I know you’re doing the voice of Smurfette in a movie real soon but that doesn’t mean you have to dress like her.

Sadly it seems as if I’m not the only one. You know your star is fading when your duet with Elmo, a puppet for fucks sake, gets cut from Sesame Street because it’s too raunchy.

So you were wearing a flesh coloured mesh thing, who knew? Mums with less impressive cleavage than yours don’t notice little things like that and they complain real loud.

That said, your piss take of the whole sad saga on Saturday Night Live was pretty damn funny – “Today’s episode is brought to you by the letters Double D and the number 34” - and if I were to be truly honest, a little bit of the old you.

So maybe I’m not over you at all, you sexy thing you.

BTW, I’d iron your hot pants if you asked me too. I would do that for you.

KP let me take this in happier times...

Does He Really?

Now I knew Stuff.co.nz was starting to scrap the barrel for hits when they started using pictures of our scantily clad Commonwealth Games athletes as an enticement - a fully clothed archer just doesn’t compare to two twins in togs it would seem – but this is just ridiculous:

So what if he uses the rhythm method as a form of contraception? I would have thought it was a little unnecessary as he likes to pack the fudge, but hey, each to his own I suppose. Which reminds me of a joke:

Q. How do you spot the retired porn star working at the local servo?

A. He pulls the pump out before it’s finished and sprays it all across the boot.

Thank you, I’m here pretty much all the time.

The YMCA & The Union

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