Winter Olympics Update #2 (I still haven't thought of an amusing title)

The commentary on the Lympics has been pretty good thus far, with only a handful of fuck-ups from that guy who normally does the AFL and Wipeout, and Grant Hackett has done an exemplary job of pretending to be someone with a personality.

But there are a handful of events that even past competitors can't really help out in. Captain Expert competed in the luge in nineteen-dickety-two, and he seemed to run out of ways to describe the event.

Regarding Frederich Scholl of Germany: “Look at his position here; he’s really quiet in the sled and is really pushing through the corners.”
And this, about Nigel Zoduku, the Nigerian competitor: “He’s really pushing through the corners and is so quiet in the sled.”

One of these people won gold, and one of these people competed in an old shopping trolley. I did not witness either of them screaming (as mentioned above, they were both “quiet in the sled”) which is probably a good start for someone taking up the luge; there’s nothing as disconcerting as an athlete who closes his eyes, yells for a while and asks someone to “tell them when it’s over.”

My “Go Aus” moment du jour came the other night when Eddie kept throwing back to the “controversial” ice-skating/dancing/whatever pairing from Russia, who opted to dance an Aboriginal-themed performance . Ed went on about how rude it was for the Russki’s to be ripping off ‘our’ culture, then blasted the Swiss team for dancing in a Bollywood style, followed by an attack on the US pair for doing the famous Spanish dance, the tango. I’m glad that Australia is so proud of their Aboriginal culture to try and protect it like this. I’m also glad that the land down under didn’t have anyone in the finals, or we’d be treading on some toes by performing the Nutbush.

The death of cricket

Australian cricket’s ‘night of nights’ was held on Monday, revealing Shane 'Fuckface' Watson to be the best player in the country, meaning that less people cared about the award than usual.

Watto got up on stage with his 'I’ve just been kicked out of Short Stack' hairdo, had a cry and said something about “that’s why they call me Mr Glass,” and made out with Michael Clarke in the men’s toilets afterwards*.

This award ceremony got in the way of Hayley Bracken’s wife’s tits making their first public appearance. Clearly when you pay that much for a set of cans you wish for people to see them.

*may not have really happened, but is fairly likely

Winter Olympic Update #1 (aka Make Up Your Own Hilarious Title)

Ah. The Winter Olympics are upon us once again. I am waiting for Canberra’s hosting duties of the Autumn Olympics, as it really is a pretty city when the leaves change colour and clog up the drains.

Australia has never been the strongest competitor at the Chilly Games, and for good reason – we aren’t exactly renowned for our chilly climate. But that doesn’t stop us from having a good old go at skiing and shit every four years. After all, it’s more about being involved that pushing for Olympic gold and glory, right? Right.

That said, I was watching the coverage on the marvellous Channel 9 the other night when the head of Eddie Maguire was giving the results of the million-billion-kilometre biathlon race (or something). The biathlon is one of my favourite events at the Winterlympics – it combines cross-country skiing with rifle shooting, whereby you have to hit a tiny little target after puffing your way around Canada for a while. It’s the kind of exertion that would make you vomit all over yourself and wonder what the hell you’re doing when you could quite easily just be in the pub vomiting on yourself and having way more fun.

Anyway, apparently some champion from Sweden or Norway or some frozen wonderland in the world broke a record by several hours (possibly minutes or seconds, the details escape me), before Eddie gives the best piece of “Go Aus!” I’ve heard since the Fortnight of Frosty Sports began:

“Jurgen Fnurgen of Sweden took gold in an upset from favourite Yorgen Vlaard of Norway who finished in the silver medal position, with Italian Mario Luigi collecting bronze, edging out Australian skier Wayne Digby who finished 77th out of 78 competitors with a time roughly equivalent to Halley’s Comet’s orbit.” Edging out indeed.

Well done, Wayne. I’m assuming you beat the guy from Tunisia who’s never seen snow, doesn’t own skis, threw rocks at the target instead of shooting and had to fight off six grizzly bears during his race.

I’m not saying that Wayne didn’t have a Pharlap’s-heart sized attempt at winning this race; I’m just wondering how big this edge is that Maguire will have us believe holds 76 better athletes than our home-grown trooper, Wayne. If it’s half as big as I think it is, the ice-dancing finals will truly be “edge of the seat” viewing.

Minutes from the latest Man Meeting

Guys, can I please have your attention? Thanks. I’d like to call this Man Meeting open; thank you all for coming.

We are here today to discuss a few revelations in man-ness that have been brought to my attention recently. These are very important, I’m sure you’ll agree, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say we have a mole in our midst. I remind you again, gentlemen – women must never know about these things.

The first problem is that a few of you have asked if you can bring your girlfriends to these meetings. The answer is no, and you have all been fined one slab of beer for even thinking such nonsense.

Next, and this pains me to say it, but there are a lot of women out there who are understanding the finer points of sport; they are appreciating cricket, for fuck’s sake. A five-day Test match that doesn’t necessarily provide a winner has always - ALWAYS - been a man’s game. And now there are chicks who not only know what a doosra is, but they have shown you how to bowl one.

It used to be ok for women to have a passing interest in cricket; that’s why we invented T20 and 50-over cricket; that’s why Shane Fucking Watson is in the team. They are NOT supposed to follow it like men. I have passed this onto the ICC and they have agreed to slow down Test cricket a bit more, and see if the women can still maintain interest.

This next point is a bit embarrassing for us all – women have caught onto the fact that we don’t know as much about cars as we say we do. There have been a lot of men being caught out by looking under the (pause while ChairMan looks through previous minutes) "bonnet" of a car… is that right? Yes? Ok. We can’t look under the "bonnet" and say that the flux capacitor is shot. We are going to need a new piece of jargon shortly to use in its place. A pamphlet detailing these words as well as some safe parts of the engine to touch so you can get grease on your hands so it looks like you've done some simple tests on the car will be sent out next week.

Someone, and I will not name names, has spilt the beans that guys don’t really like going to strip clubs as much as they do on TV. This particular person has admitted that strip clubs are filled with unattractive, drug-addled hookers and are not worth the price of admission nor the $10 beers they have on offer. Remember this, gentlemen: A buck’s night without boobs does not count as a buck’s night, regardless of how much fun we were having before we got dragged out to watch a bored stripper grind on an old man’s face. The informant has been fined two cases of beer and must endure a Reese Witherspoon movie marathon.

Finally, there are several guys that will also be receiving fines over their current man form; I’ve got reports of men crying during Grey’s Anatomy. THIS. WILL. NOT. BE. TOLERATED. For those who didn’t know, the only times you are allowed to cry during a film are as follows:

- Top Gun, when Goose dies.
- Lion King, when Mufasa dies.
- When John Coffey dies in The Green Mile.
- The original 1986 Transformers movie when Optimus Prime dies. Note: HE DOES NOT COME BACK.
- Whenever any dog dies in any movie.

This next one is a new addition to the list:

- in Castaway, when Wilson falls off Tom Hanks’ raft.

This is still being finalised, so don’t get too comfortable.

Gentlemen, we are a proud and ancient race, and our survival depends on our secrets. Anyone found spilling those secrets will be forced to watch motor racing, Monster Trucks and jelly wrestling, and do a convincing job that they actually like it.

That is all.

Meeting closed