Yellow Peril: My black heart bleeds
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which was hilariously reviewed in the Guardian.
Guardian Books is bloody brilliant. Their Digested Reads unmissably so.
Well according to Tom, that would put Dan Carter in the team. And I'm sure most of the team won't complain about that, for numerous reasons, but some people are going to be saying 'Ring In!'.
Okay, so we need to handicap him in some way. Maybe we could tie his hands behind his back. I hear we have some fetters.
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Okay, so we need to handicap him in some way. Maybe we could tie his hands behind his back. I hear we have some fetters.
I knew this was going to get out of control with that sound track.
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Hope this works.
Greece vrs Germany
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Shame.
Well here is the link for the Philosophers rugby match.
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Oh, and look, the MSM is catching up with us. Women do like rugby after all, how sweet.
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Women do like rugby after all, how sweet.
And not so sweet girls play Roller Derby
BTW - do you think last nights 20/20 story (TV2) on NZ Roller Derby might have been inspired by this NZ Herald story from last May?
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And not so sweet girls play Roller Derby
My daughter would LOVE that. I was happy enough with hockey - all the violence of netball AND they gave me a weapon.
But srsly. Girls play netball. A "non-contact" sport. You wanna know how to take out a player with your back to them and without using your arms? Ask a netballer.
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And deserving of a reply too... after I have won the mayoral race here in Christchurch, I'll make the effort to revist the posting by Russell... in the short form though it is about 'narc culture' and why people resist telling on other folk, notably, the "i dont want to be involved' syndrome.
If that wasnt half obvious from the post (especially the itemised hot links) then thats because it was read from a perspective we in drug policy sometimes overlook... not everyone figures this stuff out for themselves, it has to be spelt out for them. Its like dragging someone over 'hot coals', they resist and resist until then suddenly on reaching the otherside and learn 'it didnt hurt at all'.
Regards to everyone who voted.... /Blair
http://Blair4Mayor.com -
Its like dragging someone over 'hot coals', they resist and resist until then suddenly on reaching the otherside and learn 'it didnt hurt at all'.
Errr, I'm pretty sure it would hurt to be dragged over hot coals, especially if you were an unwilling participant.
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Errr, I'm pretty sure it would hurt to be dragged over hot coals, especially if you were an unwilling participant.
We can find out, after we get the fetters on Daniel Carter.
And then we could totally do barbeque. Choice.
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Hey Blair, if you are addressing something Russell why don't you do it on one of Russell's threads. Your train of thought is hell of a hard to follow, especially if you use dodgey hot coals metaphors and dump your comment in the middle of a thread that has turned into a very camp imaginary women's rugby match in the middle of a giant metaphorical puddle.
Cheers.
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Imaginary? You mean - we're not actually going to play?
(pouts) -
And then we could totally do barbeque. Choice.
..awesome, the cheerleaders can make the salads, and us hard rugby-playing types can all stand around drinking beer and poking burnt steak with a fork.
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How does grilled asparagus salad sound? Coz if you don't like that I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with something containing boiled eggs.
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merc,
I'm in, I've actually got a pinnie and my own utensils.
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merc,
Haydyn don't mention cooking teh eggs man.
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a thread that has turned into a very camp imaginary women's rugby match in the middle of a giant metaphorical puddle.
how many more pages till we get to the imaginary aftermatch locker room/shower sequence?
Porkys movie - NSFW -
types can all stand around drinking beer and poking burnt steak with a fork.
Now I don't want to come across as some kind of Carlos Spencer metrosexual or anything, but isn't the beer supposed to be martinis, and can we please use tongs to turn the steaks so we don't dribble out all the meat juice? And also, death to Hadyn's proposed boiled eggs.
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I'm in, I've actually got a pinnie and my own utensils.
Phwoar.
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and can we please use tongs to turn the steaks so we don't dribble out all the meat juice
That's vile, young lady!
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merc,
But then I realized that I'd have to go to pre-training camp for re-education because I've got issues about letting go the BBQ, OK, I have. So I might have my pinnie on and cooking up a storm for the XV (no eggs, but egg burgers?) then I might start growling, smell of cooking meat, get territorial over me utensils...and who carves for goodness sake? Or scrubs down the hotplate, or goes and gets the gas bottle filled?
Let me be clear, I'm not like those guys on the fishing TV shows or anything, but I might relapse, then I might need a cry , then I'll think of Tom and I'll feel guilty...and then...
Female XV, female BBQ'rs maybe? -
how many more pages till we get to the imaginary aftermatch locker room/shower sequence
After a long (poetic)sequence featuring Dan Carter.....but I digress, this is sport! A serious matter, and unless you can work it into a Liz Phair song we don't want any of that smut thank you very much.
Anyway I/O what are you going to contribute? Got any pom poms or good chants (your handle suggests you are a spectator). -
! A serious matter, and unless you can work it into a Liz Phair song we don't want any of that smut thank you very much.
You don't think 'Flower' speaks for itself?
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I just realised (via the mercurial merc) that I couldn't grill the veges if the Laydeez are at the grill. Hence I'll be shaking my pom poms in the kitchen with the skillet.
And just in case you don't know: three is the magic number for BBQrs, One to cook, a deputy to take over the tongs (or Barbiemate) and a thrid person who just drinks and points to the meat every now and again.
It's very hierarchical.
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Here I am! Running (on crutches) to catch up with the team! Sounds like my kind of sporting code. One where a game means just that.
Due to the fact that I've spent the last 48 hours in hospital, I'm presently only useful for sitting down positions involving a lot of thinking. Would Coach still be vacant? Does the team need a Bard? Perhaps I could do PR, if I brought a batch of pikelets?
One of the most memorable moments of my girlhood was of being present with my Dad at Athletic Park to see Don Clarke succeed with that impromptu, heart-stopping 80 yard dropkick that set a record. Number One indeed. There weren't too many men not crying on that occasion. (And I've still got all my Dad's old Rugby programmes, Russell - commiserations about yours..).
It's not the sport I mind these days, it's the hype and drivel, and the insistence that none of us are patriots unless we invest in the appropriate tacky merchandise to show that we care. Plus the fact that they put me in a single room at the hospital but next to the ward full of old men who could find only one topic to talk about. Loudly. Till 1am. And so GRUMPY with it!
Some women have all the ruck.
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