Dear sweet Jesus. Please let us win. From Becky D.

Tonight the Rugby World Cup begins in New Zealand & I am literally fizzing at the bung. I am so excited that I need one of those 'slippery when wet signs' hung up in my office somewhere. Maybe beside my huge fuck off All Black flag.

BOOM! How you like them apples!

For as long as I have been able to yell, I have loved rugby with a venomous passion. My Dad was an avid watcher & participator when I was a little shit bag. I have fond memories of cuddling up beside him on the couch on a Sunday arvo, while Ma was in the kitchen cooking a roast, watching Fitzy, Zinzan, JK & the boys kick some serious ass. Most of the time I fell asleep to the monotonous drone of the commentators voices & missed the entire game. But I was there in spirit, rooting for the mighty Blacks to bring us another win.

20 or so years on, my passion for rugby is as fiery as ever. More so now that I am married to a native of one of our arch rival teams, the Springboks. Nothing gets my shit cranking like a good competition & accompanied smack talk.

Oh but I will if we lose John. Big angry murder tears.

 The South Africans in my life (that live in New Zealand by the way. Dig dig fucking dig), love nothing more than to hate on the All Blacks. In fact, they tell me often that they would back the Wallabies any day over our boys. This makes me piss mad but I try to keep that rage on the inside. At the end of the day they only do it to wind me up & it's only a sport right?

The very same sport that made me howl like a trampled cat when we lost the semi final to France back in 2007. I was inconsolable. My flat mate at the time & I walked home from the Epsom Race Course club rooms holding each other up as we cried our freakin faces off. The whole dam country mourned hard. Over a fucking game. A game that shredded my heart into a gazillion little pieces. Over the last four years I have glued my heart back together but it's on tender hooks bitches.

Tonight I'm going round to my Springbok loving in-laws to watch the opening ceremony & then I am being dropped home to watch the first game, All Blacks v Tonga, by myself. Because I can't watch it with other people. The anxiety, nervousness & excitement means I have to sit on the couch with a bucket in case I blow chunks. This is bad right?

If any of you whores out there don't watch or like rugby, that's cool, whatevs. But here is Becky's top reasons why you should:

The Haka.

EVERY TIME the the All Blacks perform the Haka, a part of my soul stirs so hard that my chest aches & I get a little misty eyed. I know all the rugby haters out there will want to thrash me for confessing that but I say bring it motherfuckers. I donkey kick like a machine! The Haka is a Traditional Maori War Dance. If, like me, you fancy a bit of a karaoke sing along from home, here is the Maori & english words for the mighty haka. Please note that banging it out in English will make you sound like a knob end.

Ka mate Ka mate
It is death It is death 
Ka ora Ka ora
It is life It is life
Ka mate Ka mate
It is death It is death
Ka ora Ka ora
It is life It is life
Tenei Te Tangata Puhuruhuru
This is the hairy man
Nana i tiki mai whakawhiti te ra
Who caused the sun to shine again for me
Upane Upane
Up the ladder Up the ladder
Upane Kaupane
Up to the top
Whiti te ra
The sun shines!

Don't ask me why they holla about hairy men & the sun shining up the top of the ladder either because I'm fucked if I actually know.

Scrotum. Lots of Scrotum.
You've heard this from me before. And mark my word, the day will come when I get to see some Rugby scrot. I had high hopes for a rugby game I attended back in June. Needless to say I did not see any ball bags. Mainly because it was so Antarctic cold that even if there was an accidental scrotum exposure, you wouldn't see it because it would have high tailed it up into the snuggy warm jacksie of it's owner. Either that or fall off from frost bite. Read all about my great hunt for rugby scrotum right here. 

I can paint my whole body black without being accused of being a racist.
I have never done this, because I have a sensitive complexion. But I might just do it over the next month. Having my skin fall off is called dedication to the motherfucking cause. And if my skin does fall off, Corey Jane & Richard Kahui can make themselves available to rub ointment on my wounds. Especially my big gaping vagiola wound. Ha.

Hot Boys.
See for yourself. And go ahead, lick the screen. It makes your tongue feel fizzy. My pleasure.

It's rough & angry. And testosterone makes me fanny spasm.
I can not express enough how much I love watching males smash each others shit up in a good game of rugger. I have tried & failed to enjoy any other male dominated sport. Nothing compares to the biff & grunt of a good scrum & the death blow of a well timed tackle. The only other sport I have time for is League. Rugby League is my second favourite.

Cricket = boring. sunburn. heat stroke. very drunk from boredom.
Soccer = don't get it. small man bottoms ( I like the muscly chunky kind).
Hockey = Apart from the appeal of people potentially getting smashed in the teeth by a tiny hard ball travelling at 200km/hour, hockey doesn't interest me at all.
Men's Gymnastic = Ick. Lycra & suffocated ball bags, no thanks.
Basketball = Not even the tall, big footed Adonises can keep my attention.
Cycling = see men's gymnastics.
Body Building = Faked tanned roid machines. Not my bag at all. If I wanted to see a veiny juicehead I would laminate a side of beef.


It brings the world together.
Any big sporting event does. But for New Zealand in particular, being a mad keen rugby loving nation, we go apeshit for this show. I won't tell you what happens if we lose, because it hurts to much to talk about. Basically everyone gets really fucking sad. And the rugby haters start hating even more than they hated before. And then they get stabbed by rugby lovers. Or their houses get burned down. It's a bad time.

I just straight up LOVE rugby yo!

But not as much as this guy at the bottom of the scrum

getting fingered up the poonani & his cervical spine slammed into the ground

 
Wherever you are in the world, or whatever team you root (he he) for, may the force be with you. And sorry in advance for when we hand your asses to you. I may be quieter than normal for the next couple of weeks due to the fact I will be hard out stalking the USA, Italian, Australian & Russian rugby teams currently converging on my fair city. Blake doesn't mind as long as I don't touch any other dick that isn't his.

What sport makes you fanny spasm?


Peace!

P.S If we lose, I will mourn hard. Again. And I don't wanna talk about it.

Don't make me set my scary zombie face eating off sheeps on you.