Sunday, July 18, 2004
Rugby: Sport of Men.
Well, it was the first game of the Bledisloe Cup/ Tri-Nations last night, and sadly I was unable to attend,
a) because I had to go out to dinner [such a hardship],
and b) there is no way in hell I would've been able to get tickets. They sold out before I even realised I liked rugby.
However, it could've been worse. It was pouring with rain the entire time, and I felt very sorry for poor little Daniel Carter with the rain sticking his tight black t-shirt to him and all those girls watching on tv lusting after him.
He is very pretty.
We won. We were ahead for the entire game.
I wasn't really paying much attention to why this was, as I was distracted by Justin Marshall, who is a cross between an angry pornstar called Sparkle and a psychopathic meerkat which is very good at rugby.
[I mean no offence to his parents. I'm sure it's a situation like in that book about the town that gets hit by a metorite or something, and all the women get pregnant, and give birth to evil Children who have a single conciousness and mind-control everyone, and then get blown up. The point is that it wasn't the parents fault. I think it's by the guy who wrote Day of the Triffids, but I can't remember the title.].
Anyway, Justin Marshall was being an angry little man, and we were taunting him. He couldn't hear us, as we were
a) watching on tv and
b) it was delayed coverage anyway.
I was also distracted by Chris Jack, who my flatmate tells me is my future husband. This has no stronger basis than the fact that he is almost twice my height and therefore we would look funny. I think somehow it is unlikely to ever happen, given he is much too old for me, and quite possibly already married, and of course I have never met him and have no particular desire to.
But things like this make rugby watching more interesting. I don't understand people who watch it solely for the beauty of the game. I watch it more for the beauty of Richie McCaw, who sadly was not playing. Nevertheless, there was much to make up for it. Daniel Carter, as I have said, is very pretty. Carlos Spencer is the Toffeepops Guy. Or he was. Steff likes Doug Howlett, but he looks like Michael Jackson [sort of around Thriller time, not now, thank God.]. Marty Holah is far from ugly. Claire finds Justin Marshall very attractive, but I think he looks like a meerkat.And then there are Evans and Mehrtens, Kelleher [who isn't, really, but Ruth thinks so, and he's a Chief, so he can be.] and Muliania, and let's face it, the whole team is a bunch of pretty boys.
and yet we still win.
In other news, I was out in town after the game, and it was very busy in all the clubs [Courtenay Place was packed with people wanting to be All Black groupies] so went into the ladies toilets at Burger King, and there were people having sex in one of the cubicles. Charming.
Well, it was the first game of the Bledisloe Cup/ Tri-Nations last night, and sadly I was unable to attend,
a) because I had to go out to dinner [such a hardship],
and b) there is no way in hell I would've been able to get tickets. They sold out before I even realised I liked rugby.
However, it could've been worse. It was pouring with rain the entire time, and I felt very sorry for poor little Daniel Carter with the rain sticking his tight black t-shirt to him and all those girls watching on tv lusting after him.
He is very pretty.
We won. We were ahead for the entire game.
I wasn't really paying much attention to why this was, as I was distracted by Justin Marshall, who is a cross between an angry pornstar called Sparkle and a psychopathic meerkat which is very good at rugby.
[I mean no offence to his parents. I'm sure it's a situation like in that book about the town that gets hit by a metorite or something, and all the women get pregnant, and give birth to evil Children who have a single conciousness and mind-control everyone, and then get blown up. The point is that it wasn't the parents fault. I think it's by the guy who wrote Day of the Triffids, but I can't remember the title.].
Anyway, Justin Marshall was being an angry little man, and we were taunting him. He couldn't hear us, as we were
a) watching on tv and
b) it was delayed coverage anyway.
I was also distracted by Chris Jack, who my flatmate tells me is my future husband. This has no stronger basis than the fact that he is almost twice my height and therefore we would look funny. I think somehow it is unlikely to ever happen, given he is much too old for me, and quite possibly already married, and of course I have never met him and have no particular desire to.
But things like this make rugby watching more interesting. I don't understand people who watch it solely for the beauty of the game. I watch it more for the beauty of Richie McCaw, who sadly was not playing. Nevertheless, there was much to make up for it. Daniel Carter, as I have said, is very pretty. Carlos Spencer is the Toffeepops Guy. Or he was. Steff likes Doug Howlett, but he looks like Michael Jackson [sort of around Thriller time, not now, thank God.]. Marty Holah is far from ugly. Claire finds Justin Marshall very attractive, but I think he looks like a meerkat.And then there are Evans and Mehrtens, Kelleher [who isn't, really, but Ruth thinks so, and he's a Chief, so he can be.] and Muliania, and let's face it, the whole team is a bunch of pretty boys.
and yet we still win.
In other news, I was out in town after the game, and it was very busy in all the clubs [Courtenay Place was packed with people wanting to be All Black groupies] so went into the ladies toilets at Burger King, and there were people having sex in one of the cubicles. Charming.
