Match Report Monday

Grading Match U13s, Div 2
Date: 30 March 2008
Where: Purtell Park, Bardon
Who: Wests Panthers v Albany Creek Crushers
Score: 20-18, Wests. Yes, Wests. WE WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After some calculating which hurt our brains, we worked out the last match we won was this one, which was exactly a year ago. I hope this isn't an omen or something. Because that would suck.

I failed to do a Match Report for the last game, which happened to be our first grading game. We faced Wests Arana Hills Panthers - which makes for interesting cheering, let me tell you - and lost 34-4, or 36-4... or maybe 38-4. I can't find my notepad. Anyway, parents were comforted by the fact they boys played better than the previous week, we had more than 13 players and weren't scoreless (our sole try coming from DJ late in the second half). When we returned to training after Easter, we learned their efforts were rewarded by being placed in Division 2. There was some wincing among parents, especially after learning our opponents in that game were graded lower and put into Division 3. How does that happen??? But the boys were keen and we again comforted ourselves with the fact that it's better than Division 1, where last year we routinely got our backsides kicked like a red-headed stepchild.

So here we were Sunday morning, waaaaaay too early for our liking (8 am!! U13's don't start that early, or so I thought), ready for our first Div 2 game. At 8:50, 10 minutes from kick off, our opponents only have a handful of kids, no jersey's and no coach - turns out they had the wrong time. Whoops!!! Since we are a magnanimous club and not evil power-mad grubs like certain other clubs, we agreed to wait a little longer for their team to turn up. It was funny to see the stragglers rush down to the sidelines, frantically pulling on jersey's, 10-15 minutes after the eventual start.

One would've thought the rushed warm up Albany Creek was forced to undergo would've put a damper on their game. Well, one would've been wrong. They came out ready to go helped along by poor, uncoordinated play from our boys, who conceded silly penalties to boot. About 15 minutes in the Wests defence started to gel and so Crushers were only able to put 3 tries in, but starved of possession Wests didn't come close to putting points on the board. The halftime whistle was most welcome.

I don't know what was said to the boys at halftime, or if the coaches passed around some 'special water', but it was a different Wests Panthers team that came on for the second half. They tackled, they passed the ball - both left AND right - along the line, they kicked, they chased, they poked and prodded the Albany Creek line until it cracked and Jack scored in the right corner. We're on the board, 18-4. Then it happened again with Charlie darting over from dummy half on the left edge of the field, and Scott making a fantastic conversion kick (US readers or anyone not familiar with the game, conversions must be kicked from where the ball is placed down when scoring the try and not right in front of the posts. So, for example, if your teams scores way in the corner, you have to kick from the sideline.) to make it 18-10. Wests supporters came alive as the boys scrambled in defence to deny the Crushers and force the turn over. Lots of good ball work and team play, helped by a few silly penalties as Albany Creek got frustrated, saw John again cross the tryline on the left side. There were anxious moments as the ref walked towards the spot - would he blow the whistle, call it held up, knocked into touch? Whistle blows, it's a try!!!! We lost our heads a little bit when again Scott made the conversion to bring the score to 18-16.

Had the game ended there we, as parents, would've been proud and happy. Still 8 minutes or so to go, and Albany Creek had life in them yet. A few line breaks had us biting our nails, but some exceptional chasing and tackling stopped them cold. Only a few minutes to go and Wests have possession - can they cross the line one more time? Again they passed it along the line, looking for the weak spot and crashed over once only to be held up. Never mind, back out to the 10 metre line and have another go. Josh finds his way over and puts it down - Wests takes the lead 20-18. The fulltime hooter sounded as Scott was setting up his kick and the boys went nuts - manly hugs all around and grins from ear to ear. It was only later we figured out we missed the final conversion, but who really cared at that point? They'd notched the win and justified their spot in Division 2.

It's hard to give out individual kudos, as they all played so well and as a team, especially in the second half. Jarrod made some great try saving tackles on boys twice his size - the boy has no fear - and Simon and Eli (who's number for the game was 'X') did a good job at taking the ball up the middle with about 5 players hanging off them attempting to tackle. Charlie, DJ, Michael, Josh, Broden... I could go on about the great job they did individually, but it was the teamwork shown that was most impressive, and it's what got them over the line.

Wish us luck that it continues as we face Pine Rivers next week at the listed time of 1 am. Hmmmmm, methinks the time hasn't been updated yet. At least I hope not. I apologize for the lack of pictures, but with Clive hanging off me it's difficult. Perhaps we can get Miss WTF to grace us with her presence - and camera - soon.

Saturday Skinfest

The "Yes I Know It's Monday and I'm Late and Shut Up Already" Edition.

The only time I got within 2 feet of the computer all weekend was when Miss Thing and Sparky hounded me to "fix" their MSN Messenger. I think when we installed AVG it was blocking the messenger program - all I did was tick a box that said "Allow to All" when I started it and viola - I'm a hero. Then I was booted off the computer so Sparky could play Runescape and Miss Thing could do "homework", which involved MySpace and aforementioned Messenger.

I was at footy training Thursday night when our club's new secretary Michael put two and two together and realized the Yank he was speaking with was the one who's blog he visited after reading an email. "I read your blog," he said with a grin. "You like a bit of a perv, do you?" I tried, and failed, not to turn as red as the shirt I was wearing when I grinned back and answered in the affirmative. In person, I'm pretty modest. Really, I am - stop laughing. It's always easier to let the inner me, the potty-mouthed perv, come out and play here and I get embarrassed when I'm called on it. Never fear Skinfest fans, as I'll take all the good natured ribbing that I have to in order to let the Perv have her fun. So let's get to it:

Oh Johnathan, not even your new angel wing tatts (not visible here, just take my word for it) can help you and your equally well built Cowboys (Helloooo Nurse - you in the Speedo in the back!) to shake the horror start to your season.

Same goes for you, Billy Slater and your giant purple, ah, ball. You know there's treatment for that, right? Anyway your manly shoulders and pecs don't change the fact the Storm have dropped their last two games.

When did Corey Parker get all grown up and studly??? First he kicks 10 for 10 in Round 1 and then puts all kinds of pervy thoughts in my head. I need to get to Broncos training sessions, I think.

It's not the best picture in the world, but I'm vaguely disturbed by the Brisbane cheersquad and the way they're all over the pig. Gives new meaning to the phrase "the other white meat".

More skin, hopefully on time, next week! Added bonus points - find the Animaniacs reference.

Photo Friday

I still haven't found time to shower in between the last post and this one. Ah well, who needs to smell nice? Me? Oh alright, I'll go after this I promise.

We have two very special ladies for this week's Photo Friday:


On the right is our very own Momma Mooselet, and on the left is my former mother-in-law Malzy. This picture is from Sparky's 2nd birthday party, I think. I cannot emphasise how awesome Malzy has been since the Bastard and I split up. We consider her as much Her Majesty & Clive's Nana as Miss Thing & Sparky's, and the Bastard has been known to complain about the number of photos Malzy has of Her Majesty and Clive, not to mention the wedding picture of yours truly and the Hermit, on display. I love both of these woman with all my heart.

Belated Birthday Wishes

I missed 3 very important birthday's this month, so let me a) apologize to them and b) wish them a happy, if late, birthday.


First up is frequent commenter and stepfather Shepster, who's birthday was the 13th. Next we have my niece, Gabe's daughter who is known as The Princess over at his blog (royalty runs in the family), who turned 19 on the 15th. Lastly, but certainly not least, we have Mother Hermit whose birthday was just a couple of days ago on the 25th. I hope you all had a fantastic birthday, and I'm sorry I missed them.

I'm Still Standing

Well, kinda...

I can't believe it's Friday already. Since just before the 4 day Easter weekend - I've mentioned before that Aussies take Good Friday and the Monday after Easter Sunday off - I've had zero time to myself. That's not entirely true - I get time to myself when I go to work and when I sleep. On average I'm up at 6am with Clive and/or Her Majesty and am on non-stop duty until, on average, 7:30pm when they go to bed. I'm then "on call" until Sparky retires at 10pm and Miss Thing calls it a night. There are times when I go to bed before Miss Thing, but I try to stay up for Sparky as he cannot be trusted to go to bed on his own.

I love my children and I love being their mother. But that's 16 hours a day, 7 days a week of constant in-the-trenches work. Monday's and Wednesday's often see me dashing from Her Majesty & Clive's bedroom, throwing on my work clothes and rattling off a couple of last minute instructions to Sparky and Miss Thing before going to work. I look forward to Saturday's, when it becomes the Hermit's duty to get dinner and the little ones bathed and bedded as I have to be at work for 5pm. Stocking shelves may be a mindless job, but no one is tugging on me asking for anything.

My point is that all this leaves me very little time for blogging, never mind reading all the blogs I have in my reader. In the time I've sat down to do this post, I've had to wipe a bottom, get kids dressed and fetch another round of drinks. I'm often so drained by the end of the day that, when I can get to the computer, I've got nothing. I don't want to check my emails, never mind do a post.

So the sporadic posting continues, and I apologize for it. I promise that if I ever have a complete mental breakdown I'll get someone to log on and post for me so you know I'll be spending some time in a padded room. Which, to be honest, sounds nice right about now.

Saturday Skinfest

I finally got to sit and watch my beloved Broncos play last night and was most impressed. And when I got to see a shirtless Lockyer within the first 5 minutes of the broadcast courtesy of the dressing room camera, my night was made. The win against the Roosters was icing on the cake. I'll miss the games tonight as I have to work, but Miss WTF will try to send me updates from Townsville where she's jetting off to watch her Tigers take on the Cowboys. How good of a friend is that?

So let's see what's on tap for the Skinfest this week:

The tasty Craig Wing and his snail trail. This is for Niss - thanks for the shout out hon.

Heath Lestrange is nearly Naked For A Cause... again. Do you mind? Me neither.

Darren Lockyer looked so fit last night, with his jersey on or off. I prefer off.

This live action shot of the Gold Coast Titans cheergirls courtesy of Miss WTF - she thinks of you fellas, too.

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

Yes, I know it's Saturday. Clive's been sick. Nothing serious, but it's made him more clingy than usual... which I didn't think was possible. I'm going to try and get the blog updated this morning, but no promises. Between Clingy Clive and Her Majesty bouncing off the walls with excitement due to Easter tomorrow, I'm really looking forward to going to work this afternoon for some peace and quiet.

Speaking of Easter and Her Majesty, here's one from last year:


Happy Easter everyone!

Poise

Dear Children,

I appreciate most of the gifts you've given me over the years. Indeed, I keep many of them.

There are a few I'm not overly fond of, however. The grey hair. The bags under my eyes that are large enough to do a week's worth of grocery shopping with. Not to mention they only come in a fairly hideous shade of purple/black. The pregnancy raccoon mask that never quite went away. The saggy boobs. The stretch marks. The c-section scar and the accompanying ruination of my abdominal muscles.

But this latest gift is just too much. I really don't want to add these to my shopping cart every week:


In addition to the chest congestion I had a couple of weeks ago from the cold one of you brought home to share, I had to cross my legs every time I sneezed or coughed so that I didn't wet myself.

Stop with the gifts! I don't want to know what comes after this! Can't you just make me a Christmas ornament out of tin foil and Popsicle sticks?

Love,
Mom

I know I owe you a Match Report. I'm working on it, whilst working on 4 hours sleep. I'll get there.

Saturday Skinfest

I was going to come home from work last night and do the Skinfest, but as you may have figured out I didn't. I got home at 10:13, and I ate my "dinner" two hours later. I put "dinner" in possibly inappropriate quotes as I'm not sure anything eaten after midnight qualifies as dinner. The reason my hot dog was eaten as a midnight snack? Clive. If that molar doesn't come through soon I'm cutting it out myself.

How busy have I been this weekend? Well it was Round 1 of the NRL and how many of the 7 games have I watched? One. Hell. Will I be able to watch tomorrow's game? Nope. Fuck. I couldn't even watch my beloved Broncos kick Penrith ass all over Suncorp Stadium this afternoon. Fuckity fuck.

So how about some skin to make me feel better? Oh, and you too:

I had to listen to Daniel Conn and the Titans kick the Cowboys asses all over Skilled Park on Friday. Unfortunately I think Daniel was dressed at the time, but since I couldn't see it I have no way to confirm this.

I could only see the highlights on the news of Darren Lockyer and his superflat abs smack Penrith around. Unfortunately I can confirm Darren was wearing a shirt. What fun is that?

I have no idea if Nathan Hindmarsh and his continued silly facial hair was even playing when the Eels beat the still hated Bulldogs Saturday.

I'm a totally straight woman but am secure enough to admit that Kate Hudson may have the most perfect ass known to mankind. If I had an ass like that I'd wear dental floss g-strings too.

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

Taken at the Mt. Coot-tha Botanical Gardens after Miss WTF's big band concert. Is this what is known as 'idolatry' in the Bible?

You might need to double click on the image to see just what I mean.

Her Majesty Rules the Pool

That's right, my kid can totally kick your kid's ass in the pool. Well, maybe not so much with the ass kicking, but she can outswim your 4-6 year old. Possibly your 8 year old. So there!!!!

Her Majesty, who still can't touch the deep end of the school's plunging 1.085 metre floor and breathe without the use of a snorkel, has just been moved up to the next level in her swim lessons. Whoop-de-do, you might be saying, that's what happens! They get better and so move on.

In November of last year, at the tender age of 4 years and 4 months, Her Majesty was the youngest in her swim school to be moved up to Mini Sharks, the lowest of the "stroke improvement" squad levels. To get to that level she had to show she could swim 10 metres freestyle and backstroke. It took her 9 months to be able to do that, and we were over the moon at her accomplishment.

Now, after less than 4 months and still months away from her 5th birthday, Her Majesty has stunned us all again by swimming the required 25 metres freestyle and backstroke to be moved to Tiger Sharks. We're not talking dog paddles, we're talking proper technique with arms and head turning and kicking. Not only can she swim that distance, but she beats kids twice her age.

Yes, I'm bragging just a little. Shut up.

Two of the supervisors talked about moving her up a couple of weeks ago, but said she wasn't "quite ready". One of them sat Her Majesty down and explained what she had to work on for the next week - keep her legs together while kicking. I laughed to myself over the "while kicking" as keeping ones legs together as a girl is good advice that Britney Spears obviously missed out on. Anyway, Her Majesty's concentration the next week was a sight to behold. Again the same supervisor congratulated Her Majesty on her kicks and then set a new task of straight arms for backstroke. I thought Her Majesty would get discouraged as she'd perhaps think the bar had been moved again, but she took it in stride and spent the weekend demonstrating her backstroke arms. On Tuesday her efforts were rewarded with the coveted certificate.

So it's off to the pool this arvo to begin learning breaststroke - yes, breaststroke. A 4 year old who can't quite read but will learn strokes that a lot of adults don't know boggles my mind. And Her Majesty? Loves every second of it.

So if you see this face:

here someday:
you can say you knew her when. And if sponsors would like to get in on the action now, drop me a line.* You can probably get her for a bowl of watermelon.

*please note the total unseriousness of that line. I won't even use her real name, much less pimp her out to corporations. Just so we're clear...

Boo-Boo

Have you ever hurt your child, or a child in your care? Not deliberately, of course, because then you should be in jail rotting. I mean accidentally cause harm in one way or another. Of course you have - we all have. If you're sitting there telling me no, then you either a) have never ever had the care of a child for longer than a couple of seconds or b) you've erased the memory because you feel so guilty. And we all feel guilty when it happens so that, no matter how much time has elapsed, we remember the moment. Here's my top injuries to each of my children:

Clive - He's only 15 months, but he has collected a fair few head knocks. His habit of leaning backwards when he's being carried combined with my habit of taking a corner fairly tight had lead to many a collision of head against door frame. I can only take secondary credit (as I was the adult in charge) for the worst one, when he fell off the bed in the camper trailer, through the Velcro fastening and onto the grass a metre and a half down. Sparky was playing with him as I made dinner one night and foolishly allowed Clive to get out of reach. How Clive managed to get through that with nothing more than a small bump on the back of his head I'll never know. Far worse visible damage was done the next morning when he slid off the step and grazed his face on the concrete pad - with me not a foot away.

Her Majesty - She'd managed to get through toddlerhood relatively unscathed. Then a couple of weeks ago we went shopping. Her Majesty doesn't like to wear shoes very often, nor has she mastered the art of dismounting the shopping cart. As we were exiting the parents room, she decided she'd had enough of riding along the side of said shopping cart and hopped off. I couldn't stop in time, and ran over her foot. Her bare foot. With a fully laden shopping cart. The bruising lasted for a week, the tears for the rest of the day.

Miss Thing - As she was my first born I was exceptionally careful... until that day when she was 2 and I turned around with a shopping bag of cans in my hand and caught her in the side of the head, leaving her with a welt the size of a golf ball. Damned those baked beans. Given her Drama Queen status rivals Her Majesty, and I had far less experience dealing with the drama, I was reminded of the pain I had caused for a long, long time.

Sparky - I really did some damage with Sparky, and so saved it for last. When Sparky was toilet training, he used to like to run about commando-style in the mornings. We lived in Massachusetts back then, where the winters are cold and fleecy footy pyjamas are the norm. Morning arrived and I had stripped off his wet diaper as requested, but he wanted to keep the pyjamas on. Do you see where this is going? As I zipped him back up, I caught the tip of Little Sparky in the zipper. Go ahead and let out that collective groan while I hang my head in shame for damaging his dangly bits. The shriek he let out was pretty impressive, as you'd imagine.

Can you top that? Would you like to share your damage and thereby lessen your guilt whilst reminding the rest of us that we're not alone? Go for it...

Match Report Monday

Guess what's back! That's right - junior footy season. I had contemplated not doing Match Report Monday anymore as Miss WTF, author of MRM for the last two seasons, is no longer at the games as Master WTF is not playing this year. She writes a great match report, plus had all the pictures! I don't know what I'm going to do without pictures this year. After some thought, and some chocolate, followed by more thought and a Diet Coke or two (to cancel out all the chocolate) I decided to go ahead and continue MRM. Please be patient as I get into the groove of a semi-objective reporter.

Trial Match U13s
Date: 9 March 2008
Where: Scott Park, Holland Park
Who: Easts Tigers v Wests Panthers
Score: a lot of tries - not so many tries... It was a trial match, no one was counting!!!

So what does a trial match mean? In the end, not much. It's a pre-season warm up and counts only for pride. It allows the coaches to trial kids in new positions, to see what their team is capable of. In our case, with all new coaches who have absolutely zero experience with the club, it was a great opportunity to see what these boys are made of. We are in what could be politely termed a 'rebuilding year'.

To play a game of rugby league, you need 13 boys on the field. A couple sitting on the sidelines as interchanges are great, too, to give the bigger kids a rest or cover for injury. After all the troubles of last year (please click the 'Match Report Monday' label if you're not familiar or need a refresher) we counted ourselves very lucky to have 13 boys signed on as of Thursday night. Unfortunately not all 13 turned up on Sunday. Then someone mentioned that we had a few boys "from the other team". I thought that meant some of the boys from Wests U12 were playing up so we'd have the numbers. That was until I noticed a couple of the boys on our team were wearing orange socks - turns out that the "other team" was Easts. Full credit to those boys, they didn't hold back and we thank them heartily for playing for us. If you'd like to make the change full time, you're more than welcome (especially the number 10 - you were very good).

From the whistle, our boys took about 10 minutes to get into the groove of the game during which time they gave away a couple of easy tries. At least I think it was only a couple - I stopped counting after the first two. But for the rest of the half they really came together as a team, completed their sets, made some excellent tackles and even managed to score twice themselves! The best try of the first half came from Jarrod - who has grown a bit during the offseason - who we deduced was the try scorer when he was the last one up off the ground. Missing was the screaming from the sidelines of certain parents and coaches.

The boys must've nodded off during halftime, because it again took them 10 minutes to get into synch again. Again, Easts took advantage and scored... well I don't know how many tries exactly, but it was a fair few. There had been some shuffling of positions and very little back line ball movement which made for a slow second half. There were highlights, including some fantastic tackling by Broden and Scott, a great intercept by Josh and another fantastic try by Jarrod off a kick. Scott was a real find as fullback and never gave up, even when the heads of the other boys started to go down after a secession of Easts tries. They pulled it together for the last 10 minutes for a strong finish, but the damage was done.

I was very impressed by two things. The first was the Easts club and their parents. Maybe I was on the wrong side of the field and missed something, but there was none of the abuse that sometimes happens at a game, even when the Wests touch judge disallowed the first try that was a 50/50 call at best. Secondly was the attitude of our players and coaches. There was no finger pointing (at least none that I heard), no fights, no blaming of the refs, the other team or the alignment of the planets. Tom, our coach, did say that the boys got "lazy", and they did, but rather than scream at them (as happened last year) said that it was his job to inspire them to do better. What a nice change, especially for those who came back after last year and may remember the bucketfuls of "inspiration" the boys had heaped on them week after week, the kind that started with the letter 'f'. I'm hopeful that this positive attitude rubs off and we see a lift in their game next week.

Keep your fingers crossed that we can field a full team of our own players for the grading game next week, and if you're reading this and live in Brisbane and happen to know a boy born in 1995 who is interested in playing rugby league let me know. I know of a club who could use you.

Saturday Skinfest

You knew it couldn't last, didn't you? Getting the Skinfest posted on a Saturday three weeks in a row??? Honestly. I was traumatised after coming home from work last night and was in no condition to do a post. How so, you ask? I was forced to listen to Jessica Simpson "sing" (and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word) Take My Breath Away. I need to find the original version to cleanse my soul and uncurl my mind from the fetal position.

So before I have to dash off to Sparky's first footy game of the season, here's what you're all here for:

Daniel Conn and his many tatts enjoy a surf in between games on the Gold Coast.

Johnathan Thurston said in an interview that certain comments go "in one ear and out the other". When you've got ears that put Legolas to shame it's not too hard.

Corey, the day you're able to take out Petero is the day Webcke turns up naked in my bed. Which is why Petero is laughing at you and I'm left with nothing but wishful dreams.

I love the little pig on the tank top of this Canberra Radierette. Although someone ought to tell her that the piggie ate the rest of said top.

More skin, more or less on time, next week.

Photo Friday

You know those kids who are taking a few shaky steps one day and then running like they've been doing it for months the next? Clive's not one of them. He's not quite ready to be labelled 'walking', more like 'lurching' as if he's Frankenstein. In fact I've taken to calling him Lurch. He'll only go 10 steps, at most, before launching himself into the crawl position and taking off.

What does this have to do with Photo Friday? Well, Clive may not be walking yet, but he's already done his first pub crawl at age 14 months with Miss WTF:

We wouldn't let him have his own pub glass, unlike big sister Her Majesty:

Got to start them young, or all is lost.

Stalkers

We all know them, and we know we have them. You may even be one. I'm talking about the shopping centre stalker. The one who slowly follows you in their car as you walk across the parking lot towards your car, hoping to get your space.

I don't mind being stalked, although I am occasionally amused when they cannot follow me over curbs and then lose their chance at my space. I don't intentionally do this, it just happens. I have been known to be the stalker as opposed to the stalkee, but only when I'm certain the person is very close to or at their car. Once, at Christmas time, an elderly woman gleefully gestured for me to follow her to her space. I almost offered her a lift I was so happy.

I said I don't mind when I'm stalked, as I understand how hard it can be to find a parking space on a busy shopping day. There are two major exceptions, however:

1) If you see me pushing a shopping card laden with grocery bags and a couple of small children, don't expect me to rush on your account. Nothing will make me move slower than if you sit impatiently, occasionally revving your engine as if to remind me that you're still there. I see you, I just don't give a shit that you're waiting. If you want my spot, you'll wait while I find room in my environmentally unfriendly 4WD for all my bags, strap the kids into their car seats and find a safe spot for my now-empty trolley. I may waste even more of your precious time by getting myself a drink, fastening my seatbelt and finding the right song on my iPod before I back up if you glower at me as I walk back to the car. Did you call me a bitch? You betcha - go stalk the lone shopper carrying the odd bag if you're in a hurry. Asshat.

2) If I wave at you and shake my head, this means I'm not leaving. I'm putting things into the car so I have more room in my cart for the additional shopping I must do in order to feed my brood and keep them clothed. It does not mean continue to sit there and pretend you didn't see me. Do you think I'm going to feel guilty that you wasted time waiting for my space and so will leave? You obviously left your brain cells at home that day. Asshat.

If, however, you ask me nicely via the gesture of a raised eyebrow and general pointing in my direction if I'm leaving I will, if the answer is yes, do all I can to get myself and my spawn loaded up as quickly as possible. If I give an apologetic wave and you smile and gesture back "That's ok, I'll wait" with a smile and returning wave, I'll forgo the seatbelt, drink and iTunes until I'm backed out and you're in what was my space.

How do you feel about car park stalkers? Are you one? Do you lead them on a merry chase before ducking back inside, giggling as they fume, or are you happy to let them follow you to your car? Is it rude, or would a little more courtesy lessen car park rage?

Saturday Skinfest

Gee, two weeks in a row getting the Skinfest done on the day in the title. Saints be praised!

I've been darting to the computer all morning and afternoon in between errands watching some eBay auctions. Her Majesty has finally outgrown her size 3 clothes - yes, she's 4 and a half but she's petite dammit - and Clive's bursting out of his snaps, so it's time to get more. I don't see the point of spending gobs of cash on kids clothes that they'll either a) outgrow in 6 months (not in Her Majesty's case, rather Clive's) or b) ruin while they play. I'm not going to tell them not to play on a day-to-day basis because of what they're wearing, so I go for second hand stuff. I love a bargain.

Here's stuff I do the point in, however - studly manflesh!!! Woot woot!!!

Like other players, Heath L'Estrange enjoys getting naked, and dirty, for a cause. I enjoy imagining getting him clean again.

Dear Johnathan, Is it possible for you to do something about your simian-like appearance, especially when you laugh? Someone pass a banana, quick! You've got a sweet 6 pack, though, so I guess that's compensation.

Here's Robbie Farah holding his, er, snake. There's a joke here, but I'll refrain. No, really I will...

I know I said I'd found a cheerleader site, but I couldn't resist this one for the cheesecake this week. After all, she's kind of an athlete:

It seems all of Hulk Hogan's money went not to Rogaine but to daughter Brooke's implants.

More skin next week! Oh, and bonus points to the first person who can find the Monty Python reference in this post.