June 2nd, 2008 jovian
After a few bad seasons the boys have really come together as a team so far this year. The previous season was one of our worst with injuries and player committment the main issues. So far the effort and intensity from the Tuxedo Terrors has been awesome - probably the best ever.
Some smart and geographically suitable off season recruiting (Matt “The Blade” Crazy), return of a former star (John “Velvet Tongue” Dooley) and my return from injury (Heartlage) have lifted the team to another level. The familiar faces have returned in fine form with Tim in particular putting in some stirring performances. The additional of skins may also push the team into the realm of extreme athlete’s.
Four games in and Some Team has been in every game till the end against some very high class teams. Regular weekend runs have also helped develop the teams skills providing us with a better attacking formation. We have returned back to C Grade on the back of the effort from all players which is great for morale amongst the boys.
There is a real buzz about the club, but we are taking it one week at time, trying to come away with the points, training hard, trying to build momentum for the finals and not getting ahead of our selves cause its a long season.
From The Captain’s Chair, fuck yeah!!
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May 20th, 2008 timothy
After a refreshing Saturday soaking, running some plays in the rain on the love street sports field, everyone settles in to watch the super Saturday NRL games, getting efficiently sauced and ready for a boozy valley hit out. The plans are set to meet rachel’s friends for some birthday celebrations at mustangs, but first a quick stop over to birdies to catch up with cassy, who much to our amusement was in fact, not at birdies. After soaking up the foulness that is the birdies exceptionally metro crowd, we make haste for mustangs once we realise the miscommunication, and not a moment too soon, that place is a true shit-fest.
Arriving at mustangs we promptly order drinks and locate the crew we are to be harassing for the evening. Vodka sunrises fall like the setting sun in the time skipping scene from the unfairly underrated “time machine” movie, and we start cutting a fine jig on the dance floor, throwing heterosexual caution to the wind by busting out moves that impress as much as they disgust fellow night club revellers.
We dance on into the early hours of the morning fuelled by sugar and alcohol, occasionally stopping to pose for a photo or to allow rob time to drool uncontrollably at the abundance of young sweaty girls shaking their sugar all around him. As our shenanigans catch on to other club patrons in close proximity and some mad spirit fingers moves are invented and perfected, an angry elf looks on disapprovingly. With a personality as low as his centre of gravity he pushes past patrons to warn people of the dangers of leaving drinks on the pool table.
Having danced ourselves somewhat sober we start to wind it down, and make the decision to leave shortly, only after we get to witness some of the most homoerotic dancing ever performed at mustangs between two of the shortest 7-eleven employees ever seen. Face to face they thrash their groins about never afraid to get low and dirty when the beat calls for such moves, now with a small group of utterly stunned (and a little turned on) onlookers they kick into overdrive getting jiggy at dizzying speeds.
Heading out the door for the walk back to the palace we are confronted by the icy winds of Antarctica, unknown to us, while grooving in the warmth of a crowded dance floor, grandfather winter took out his falsies and blew winter across the greater Brisbane. With sweat turning to icicles and testicles reduced to sultana’s we trudge home teeth chattering and loud voices shaking.
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May 16th, 2008 timothy
The Autumn 08 season kicked off for Some Team with the unveiling of the awesome new team jersey, a few new faces and a rusty performance that forced some deep soul searching for all the players.
After some last minute rushing about our new jerseys were numbered and ready for the new season, while a handful of players knew what awesomeness they were to be adorned with, the rest we left in the dark, eagerly anticipating the jersey unveiling ceremony to be held before the first game of Autumn 08.
The boys arrive sporadically, new faces are introduced and pleasantries are exchanged. We wait impatiently for the moment everyone is together so we can cast of our jackets and show the world the finest damn jersey to be worn at a friendly touch c
ompetition. The moment arrives and laughter fills the air as jerseys are handed out to the waiting players whom quickly fit themselves in the new formal attire.
We take the field with the paparazzi snapping away trying to land tomorrows front page shot. After a brief warm up and some much needed bomb practice it looked like the celebration of a fresh start for Some Team may be derailed with the opposition 3 players short of the bare minimum to field a team.
As disappointment loomed we set about having a friendly, fast and furious game of five on five until the opposition finally decide to grace us with their presence and take the field with only moments before a forfeit was to be called. It was obvious that we were quite rusty and immediately threw our game plan out the window reverting back to the side to side attack of seasons past. Our defence was quiet and disorganised letting in a few soft tries and bringing down the spirits of a team primed for such great things this season.
Half time was the same old scenario with more chiefs than indians, barking out their own take on a game plan, talking over the top of each other whilst not hearing a single word said. Apart from the length, the second half was identical to the first, misdirected attack and lazy defence let the score blow out 5 to 1. Our only saving grace was a nifty try rob scored from close range much to the delight of his mother cheering on the sidelines.
The siren blew and as we walked from the field, emotions were mixed, it looked like we were in for another season of lacklustre attack and scrappy defence, but at least we would look quite striking doing so!
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April 29th, 2008 timothy
On the first visit in months to our once favourite watering hole, the nato, we discovered their new menu was about to be released, and much to our collective delight, the one and only Lamb Fuck Yeahs (aka shanks) were not only back on the menu, but back on the 2-for-1 weekend menu!
Our mouths watered in anticipation of an all-out shank-fest while we dined on Tuesdays $12 pizza’s and put plans in place to bring back the shanks in style. Such a momentous occasion deserved and equally momentous celebration so the inaugural Shanksgiving was set for the coming Saturday, time was short and we had much promotion work to do. Rob set about telling one and all of Shanksgiving 2008, a holy time of the year where friends gather to celebrate delicious slow cooked lamb just falling of the bones of some innocent baby sheep, by drinking copious amounts of alcohol and jamming their faces with forkfuls of meat and veg.
The evening arrives and we head up to meet everyone at the nato while rob remains at home waiting for his female entourage. Nat & cass order themselves a pair of parmies in their own return to 2-for-1 celebration and we line up to order our delicious shanks. Jo and gez are the last to order and as they do, they receive some disheartening and deliciously ironic news, jo had scored the last set of shanks, leaving rob and his dream girl (whom are attending Shanksgiving on rob’s promise of succulent shanks), completely shankless.
We settle in on the couches with a few drinks and nervous anticipation of robs arrival impending shank inspired meltdown. As a group we agree to let staff tell him the bad news for fear of a brutal shank rage attack. Our buzzer buzzes and we sit down with delicious 2-for-1 meals ready for devouring, as rob finally arrives we stuff our mouths with shank goodness to muffle our nervous laughing, rob hits the counter and is delivered possibly the saddest news ever delivered, no shanks on Shanksgiving. Its like waking up with no presents and a swift kick to the grapes on Christmas morning.
As my heart bled watching rob eat a plate of harbour harvest irony, i let him sample my shanks, just enough to let him know what he is missing, with the aim of preventing embarrassing tears as he gets to witness jo, olly and i food rape the plates of shanks in front of us.
With no sign of meat left on the bone we relax back into another round of beers, telling tales of a splendid Shanksgiving, laughing and reminiscing of meals past.
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April 29th, 2008 timothy
Our beloved broncos we playing the storm as a friday night footy spectacular, so we stayed in with a few beers, a few mates and some entertaining footy. A requirement of watching a bronco’s game at the palace is that every spectator has to wear some sort of bronco’s supporters gear and frantically wave a broncos flag when the opportunity arose, everyone complied with this simple request, except of course for joel…..erggh joel!… damn swelshie!..
Anyhow, the broncos lost valiantly and we grabbed a few roadies then wandered of into the valley to see what sort of vibe we could summon to guide us through a night of drunken fortitude. We were to meet up with the remainder of jae’s birthday celebrations at mustangs to kick on in the fine style of a large drunken posse with a few ladies by our sides to quash the vicious homosexual rumours flying around (about rob).
While waiting we indulged in some jager bomb rip-offs a few rounds of drinks and chatted about all things new zealand with some kiwi girl trying to track down a flame for foul darbs. As rob put the wheels in motion to steal the fine young ladies cancer ridden heart, her burly entourage turned up and blocked any inroads made.
The ladies arrive and we all cut a groove on the dance floor, joel does some fine introductory work and knocks jayde’s drink all over her as his form of a friendly greeting, leaving him to be scolded and scowled at for the remainder of the evening. We leave the ladies at mustangs and plan to meet up at the fringe bar with the goal of getting absolutely fucking hammered, a goal we are all capable of achieving.
The drinks start flowing at the fringe and we make a nuisance of ourselves on the dance floor, backing-up sporadically and generally sussing things up. Rob and i team back-up an unfortunate girl, now firmly trapped between our pulsing buttocks she decides its safer to leave the dance floor rather than spend the evening as the salami in a double ham sandwich.
The girls arrive and we make short work of catching them up on the act of getting plastered, constant rounds of shots and drinks fuel our inappropriate antics as matt works his way into the arms of a mhlf, we engulf her and her friends into our group and take over a portion of the bar as our own. With the addition of some foul shirt guy with unattainable dreams of nailing his own mhlf, and a girl rob managed to impress and offend in the same instant we hit true maggot drunkenness together.
Making a mockery of any sort of responsible service rules we drink on until the club kicks us out in the wee hours of the morning, unleashing a herd of extraordinarily drunk fools pepped up on sugary drinks and jager bombs to reak havok on the valley mall on our journey home.
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