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theZEBRA
just spent the weekend at the army barracks
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Songs of the Plains
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One would be in less danger
From the wiles of a stranger
If one's own kin and kith
Were more fun to be with.

Ogden Nash
Rugger Muggered
Monday. 8.22.05 6:07 pm
A guy I know just got mugged. Walking back from Finnegan's at 3 am, he got jumped on just as he got to his car. Broken nose, three broken teeth, smashed lips, fingers needing stitches, and a concussion. Serious shite this. Plus he had to drive himself to the police station after it was over. Lost his money, watch, camera, phone, and PDA.

Now what's scary is this guy's a rugby player. Not to overglorify them or anything, but rugger buggers don't generally look like they'd roll over and play dead at the first sign of trouble. These are the kind of guys who look like they have their faces stomped on for fun. The stud marks can be a huge hint. And this fellow's no different.

So if a guy like that can be targeted for a spot of after-pub mugging, what about a girl like me who probably weighs half what he does? And without even a single boot stud imprint on my face to scare the would-be predators away. I've walked along that same road past midnight more than a few times now. Alone. And pissed (just a little). So I probably wouldn't notice anything until I woke up twenty minutes later with my blood more outside than in.

Scary shite. Will it be my turn next time? Should I invest in a can of pepper spray? Knowing myself, I'm more likely to spray myself in the face than the bastard attacking me. Maybe a little switchblade? What if I drop it and it's used against me?

There's nothing foolproof! *WAIL*

Or maybe I'm just getting myself worked up over nothing. Maybe it wasn't even a mugging! We'd just played our rival team earlier that day, and everyone knows that Finnegan's is where the Dogs go to get smashed.

Hmmm, highly suspicious this.

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Of 30 Guys and 1 Ball
Saturday. 10.25.03 9:43 pm
It’s that once-every-four-years time again. For the past couple of weeks, rugby fans have been flocking to Land Down Under for the Rugby World Cup 2003. Alas, due to insufficient funds, I shall not be able to experience the odour and rabid screams of 40,000 other overzealous fans up close, nor shall I be able to gaze at the players’ worshipped cauliflower ears in the flesh. Instead, I’ve had to make do with the wonders of Astro and Star Sports. No matter. I’m not here to whinge and whine about my sorry state, however sorry it may seem.

Alright, fine. It hasn’t been that horrible watching rugby from the couch – eyes glued to the screen, bag of chips at hand, clutching a rugby ball for dear life (Adidas, thank you very much, it has to be of the brand sponsoring the All Blacks), rising with a roar whenever a try is at hand, and ending it by either throwing pillows and curses at the screen or running a victory lap around the sofa and slamming the abovementioned ball to the ground for another celebratory try. RAWWWRRR!!!!!!!!! I’m getting all worked up just typing this out.

Yesterday’s game between New Zealand and Tonga was a beautiful one. Not because the All Blacks scored 13 tries, not because they set a new points record for this year’s tournament, not because they played absolutely marvelously even without Chris Jack and Joe Rokocoko, but because LEON MACDONALD played throughout the entire game AND was the goalkicker. It was brilliant. He got the flags raised for all 12 of 12 conversions (Carlos Spencer kicked one of ‘em cuz Rangy was limping a bit at one point) – that’s a 100% conversion rate people(!), and some of ‘em were from all over the place. He delivered a beautiful kick that had Mils Muliaina and Dougie Howlett just about strolling to put it down for a try. He scored a try himself and was this close to scoring another. Pure poetry in motion. He even cracked a smile or two, only for a few seconds though, his face muscles probably weren’t used to all that action. Icing on the cake was when he got picked for Shane’s MVP during the after-match analysis.

Whew. I was all starry-eyed and delirious with joy at the end of the match. I was practically all set to get his name tattooed on the left cheek of my bum and his face on the other, then take a pic and send it to him. Only the thought of not being able to sit down for the next few days after that stopped me.

So yeah, it’ll be tough deciding whether to don my Springboks jersey or to stay true to the All Blacks when they meet. Whichever it is, it’s gonna be a great month or so for me. That is, as long as George Gregan doesn’t get his grubby little paws on the trophy at the end of the tournament.

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More Rugby Mania
Monday. 6.14.04 8:30 pm
The Sanzar Home Tests. Live. On Astro. With reruns. *Points a hoof at all the footie fans and sticks her tongue out* You mean they’re only playing the Euro 2004 on regular tv? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Aaaaaaahhhhhhh (self-satisfied sigh), Saturday was a bee-you-tee-fool day. Watching the All Blacks trample England to the ground was incredible. Just. Utter. Bliss. I laughed and laughed till my hooves curled. And the Springboks killing Ireland was icing on the already so-sweet-my-teeth-hurt cake.

Honestly. Barely a month ago, I was screaming bloody murder at half the team and wishing all sorts of horrible deaths upon them for daring to score against the Crusaders. But the moment they pull on black jerseys, I’m struck suddenly by an immense sense of love and worship for them. Especially when they crush the Poms with try after try after try. Spencer, Rokocoko and Howlett. As much as I hate the Blues, you gotta salute them for producing players like these. Even if they’re cocky bastards.

But of all the people on the field, I’ve gotta say that the one person I like the best is the referee. Love those guys. Could be all that power they hold. Or it could be those cute shirts they invariably wear. And of course, it always a great help if they’re yummy like Steve Walsh. Still, it’s awfully fun when a player gets too rough and the ref gets that cute disapproving look on his face. Like he’s just witnessed his son bonk another kid in the sandbox with a bucket. “C’mon lads, we’ve got a few minutes left. Let’s keep it clean, alright?” And then to watch as the ‘lads’, who’re incidentally the size of telephone poles, hang their heads (dripping blood on their boots) in shame and promise never to do it again, and please daddy could we go for ice-cream later?

Now, if only someone would bonk the Wallabies on the head. Hard. With a heavy iron bucket.

Quote of the day: “And here comes O’Gara, and O’Connell…along with the rest of the O’s.” – Commentator lost in pack of Irish players (South Africa vs. Ireland)

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Rugby Joe
Wednesday. 9.15.04 8:54 am
Mmm…you gotta love rugby tourneys. The only thing better than watching hot kiwis do the haka…is watching hot kiwis do the haka with their shirts off! *SQUEEEEEEEEEEE*

I was floating, lost in a sea of rugby players. Whoever said drowning’s a traumatic experience must’ve forgotten to bring a camera along and had to go through the ordeal of not having piccies of shirtless kiwis.







But where’s Joe? Joe who was ever-so-teasable, Joe with the tiny freckles and broken nose, who went red every time someone asked for an autograph, who got tricked into telling another guy he had a sexy arse, who stressed out over how to smuggle 40 pirated DVD’s out of the country, who laughed at all my jokes and consoled me after a scrappy game. Joe whose number I forgot to ask for, whose email addy I didn’t write down, who hugged me once and left me wishing for more. What about him? And I’ve only got one pic of him too.

Goddammit woman! So which one’s Joe then?!

Right, no more teasing.

I wanna fly over to NZ now.

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Crusaders Will Conquer!
Saturday. 5.28.05 11:53 pm
YAR HAR HAR HAR HAR! Ha ha ha ha HA!!!

Last Super 12 ever! Fifth title!!! Crusaders are GODS!!! I kneel before you and kiss your mud-splattered, Tah-ass-kicking boots!!!

It was brilliant! Spectacular! It was bloody kick-ass rugby!!! 13 All Blacks, 8 Wallabies! NZ vs. OZ! TAKE THAT TAKE THAT TAKE THAT YOU WALLABY-LOVING TWITS! And especially you, Sydney, for daring to doubt Rico Gear!

Leon MacDonald scored a try! Even his nosebleed was sexy! Justin Marshall carted off on his teammates' shoulders! Dan Carter's half-line (almost) penalty kick! Andrew Mehrtens in the last 10 minutes! Reuben Thorne's intercept! And Mat Rogers' two tries! (I close my eyes to his wallaby-ness...it's a fullback thing.)

Victory! Glory! CHAMPIONS!

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Meow Meow Pussy Cat
Saturday. 7.9.05 8:23 pm
"No. 5! Yes, you. Come here. Here. Right. Now."

"No no...I saw it. Listen. You don't talk while I'm talking."


You gotta love 'em refs. Even if they can be wankers, as James would say. Except for Steve Walsh. Mmm...Steeeeeeeeve Walsh.

Still, it is rather embarrassing for the British Lions. Thrashed by the All Blacks in all three tests. No surprise there of course, but surely the Lions could've put up a better fight. Especially today: 38-19 with two AB's in the sin bin. Meow. The supposed crème de la crème of Great Britain. But then again, maybe that was their problem. It's like a taxi driver told me during a midnight drive in Singapore: the Lions aren't a team, they're a collection of teams. He thought that it would've been a better test series had it been England vs. NZ instead.

I agree. Maybe the English might've been able to reach the twenties in one of the matches then. Ha ha.

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Of a Rugby Ball and Rugby Balls
Tuesday. 4.26.05 2:40 am
Rugby guys have a penchant for nudity. Torn jerseys are a common sight after a game, but not because they were up against vicious, feral opponents. No, they were just trying to help one another along in the Brotherhood of Nekkidness. Put them in a ‘skins n shirts game’ and arguments will erupt in no time.

“I wanna be in the skins team!”
“No, you got to take your shirt off the last time! It’s my turn now!”
“Dammit, why can’t it be skins n skivvies?”


Not that I’m complaining. Rugby lads with short short shorts are a welcome sight, and rugby lads with short short shorts down are an even more welcome sight.

Which is why I’m awfully glad I followed our lads to Finney’s after Saturday’s game against the Hong Kong Football Club. I suppose the trauma of a completely humiliating defeat (63-0) and the heat must have got to the visitors, cuz after the pints had made their rounds, they decided to put a little performance together. Patrons of a café down the street lodged a complaint the very next day of an unholy tone-deaf din, which went something along like this:

WITH your shirt off!
WITH your trousers off!
WITH a wiggle! *Cue butt wiggle*
WITH a wedgie! *Cue wedgie*


This verse then repeated itself a few times, finally culminating with:

WITH your shirt off!
WITH your trousers off!
WITH a wedgie! *Cue wedgie*
WITH your kit off!


At which point, boxers and briefs of various mismatched colours joined their owners’ trousers pooling round their ankles. Of course shrieks of “My eyes! Gah my eyes! I’m blind!” and the sort immediately ensued. But for every hand clapped over the offended organs (eyes, I’m talking about EYES!), there was a gap left just large enough for peeking through. And in the dim smoky light of the pub and through empty beer glasses, every female (and some males) decided that the HKFC must be invited back for another game.



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Got Balls?
Wednesday. 9.21.05 8:51 pm
I've finally uploaded my pics from last week's Cobra 10's rugby tourney. A lovely tourney it was too, the highlights of which included:

- hakas by shirtless kiwis (always a nummy treat)
- free beer at the stadium
- riding around on someone's shoulders like a kid
- more free beer at the stadium
- my souvenir ball sales pitch ("Got balls?")
- camwhoring
- free beer at the clubhouse
- free t-shirts (which got exchanged for more free t-shirts and a cap)
- beating the Worm at pool ("God, I think I drank too much. I'm seeing double" is a pathetic excuse)
- tequila and vodka in room 7180
- drunk Oris
- rallying the hotel security guards against Matt
- forcing the Worm to sleep on the floor
- spinning around in a chair that cost 20,000 bucks.

Err...and the rugby too.

Photos at me flickr album. Yes, I know my face is a bit pink in some of the pics. And I keep telling you, it's the sun, the SUN!

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