Review: American Pie Reunion.

Here's something I've never said too many times before:

I saw my first pair of breasts in American Pie 2.

I was 11, and a mate of mine who had an older brother working at the movies snuck us into the theatre. While my childhood was hardly sheltered - growing up in Brighton next door to bikers meant that I knew a few things - I still was somewhat uneducated in matters of women and sex. To me, seeing a pair of boobies - with real nipples! - was the then-highlight of my life.

It may seem quaint to little dudes today who're watching triple penetration videos on Pornhub before their 10th birthdays - but there was actually an age where porn was not on the internet. And even after it came up, there was also an age where internet connections were so slow and cost so much to stream, forget about download. Point is, I was an innocent kid. Not for long after this, mind. But that moment in time will always have a special place in my heart.

It's moments like this which is why American Pie: Reunion was always a good idea. For a generation of young dudes (and chicks, to a lesser extent) between about 18 and 25, the first three Pie flicks were our first coming-of-age movies, as they came to us as we began to navigate the quagmire that is puberty. And in a way, I don't think that was such a bad thing. Of course, maybe this isn't a great bit of advice from a self-professed whoremonger and cokehead, but I don't think that I got that way cause I snuck into American Pie 2.

Sure, the movies are loud, rude, dirty and have way too many masturbation-related accidents. But honestly? I failed to see what's wrong with the moral code of the main characters (Well, except Stifler) or the major acts they take with their relationships (especially Jim and Oz). Morality aside, it's the loud, rude and dirty part that lived on in most minds for all these years and is probably the real reason why the original trilogy maintains a special place in hearts and minds.

There are probably many cynical reasons as to why this movie was made. Let's face it - of the original ensemble, who went on to major success? Alyson Hannigan's got How I Met Your Mother...and that's really about it. Most of them haven't been able to avoid being typecast. (The Asian MILF guy ) So it's probably fair to assume that some cash and revival of the glory days was a major factor.

However, I couldn't give two shits. Let me put it this way - if this had been a movie with Jim, Stifler and Finch (and I suppose Oz and the guy who went down on Tara Reid also) sitting on the toilet and taking shits for 90 minutes, I would have paid money to see it.

Still, I wasn't really expecting much. I would have settled for a few good dick jokes and some boobies.

And you know what? I got them both, along with a plot that actually makes sense and - this was what made the first three movies so great - character flows that I actually cared about.

I'm not gonna bother re-hashing the plot here, plus I'm guessing some of you haven't seen it yet. But there's one scene that in particular stuck with me - when Stifler, seeking to get revenge on the new generation of high school jocks, takes a shit in their beer Esky before hooking their jet skis up to his truck and dragging them out with "Na Na Na" by My Chemical Romance in the background.

For all the talk that this would be the last American Pie movie, the ending does leave open the possibility of future movies. Maybe in another 15 years we'll see Jim trying to counsel his son on sex and masturbation, and who knows. Maybe he'll have aged a bit also. Seriously, the freakiest thing about the whole film? Other than Heather (Mena Suvari, my first girl crush) and Kevin's beard, literally none of the characters look like they've aged. In Tara Reid's case this makes sense since she's Botoxed to oblivion, and Alyson Hannigan's changes are less noticeable since she's been on our screens for the last few years. But the fact that most of the others look basically the same as they did 8 years ago is a little freaky.

If future movies are to be made, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have new girl Kara (Ali Cobrin) play a role at some point. Her role is one that could easily have been played badly - little girl all grown up who happens to have a crush on her former babysitter Jim and wants him to take her virginity - but Cobrin manages to get the right mix of cute and sexy.

Look, there's no real point in me even attempting to review this movie objectively. The fact is, after all these years the American Pie gang can still make me laugh. And that's really all I ask from them.

One night, one more time.

"thanks for the memories..." Thnks fr th Mmrs (Fall Out Boy)

It's some indiscriminate hour in Singapore and I'm walking through a haze. Having spent my entire flight pre-gaming and only just making it through Customs without getting busted for being a drunk, I thought I was ready for a night straight out of the depths of hell.

Once again, I forget that my liver and brain aren't always on the same wavelength. I've just ended up at Orchard Towers and I don't know how I'm walking. I need some food.

McDonalds. Thank you sweet sweet Golden Arches. Don't get me wrong, I love the cuisine of Singapore. But I need something completely bland and reliable here. Maccas will do fine.

Right now I'm thinking of the story I heard from the old design guy at my work about his visit to Koh Phangan where he ended up shitting in a bag cause they didn't have a toilet. Oh shit. No shit. No thinking about shit. Fuck....stupid cuntybollocked big Mac! Luckily I make a toilet in time and there's toilet paper and a flushing toilet. One that's much cleaner than any back home too. then again what else can you expect? This is Singapore. They fine you round here for not flushing.

Time to head back across the road. They don't call this place the Four Floors of Whores for nothing. First thing I see as I walk up the stairs is the same first thing I saw when I came in - an old Asian dude with a shit-eating grin on his face and two hot young things by his side. I plan to be in the same position soon enough. Well, except for the old and wrinkled part.

First bar on the lowest level has some weird tiki theme. Whatever. I just want a drink...wait. $16? For a fuckin Heineken? Are you serious? Fuck me dead. I know about the exchange rate and all but $1 in Singapore is not 50 Australian cents. Oh well. I have my redundancy payment and last paycheck bouncing around my plastic cards, and I've gotta waste it on something. May as well be alcohol and strippers. There's plenty of them in here, but I better leave. As much as I like strippers - and I do - I need to find women to have sex with. Preferably without paying for it. At this point I was unaware that Singapore strippers are just glorified prostitutes.

On the top level of the Four Floors I'd heard of a place called Crazy Horse, where the ladyboys roamed. For most guys, this would be a turnoff - not for moi. It's a bi thing, but even if I was straight I figure it wouldn't matter. Fucking a ladyboy is a personal goal of mine and it will happen tonight.

Naturally, I get attention soon as I step inside. I may not be Ke$ha - the party had clearly started before I walked in - but a young guy wearing a Bondi Ink singlet and looking half drunk makes for an ideal target for ladyboy hookers. Before I could get to the bar I had three by my side. No problem. You girls want drinks? I'll buy drinks. The drunker they get the more open they'll be to negotiation of their price.

The music is so loud in here that it's impossible to have any sort of conversation. Call me old fashioned, but I don't like to just jump into bed with a prostitute. At the very least I want a name, even if its one she works under. A Candy, an Amber, a Melody (probably due to their clientele, Singapore prostitutes all tend to take slutty Anglo names) - just something to yell out during orgasm. I'm such a gentleman.

Eventually one of the "girls" works out a fee with me - $150 for a root in the mall elevator and I had to wear a condom. Seems fair enough, especially since a tray of tequila shots (the drink of choice) costs $60. Done.

Let me put it this way - if you've never had sex in an elevator I highly recommend it. Especially if there are mirrors everywhere. She started off by giving me a BJ and I gotta say that she's fuckin great at it. I've had a lot of bad blowjobs in my life but this is not one of them.

I should mention here that there are times when I get hit with a case of Whiskey D and can't cum when drunk, especially given that I'm a pretty quick shooter in real life. No problems here. She doesn't swallow but - that's an extra - so when I make it known that I'm about to cum she pulls her mouth off my cock and I blow all over the buttons. I know that I'm probably gonna get in trouble for this, but fuck it I'm leaving town tomorrow morning anyway. Still I should probably clean this shit up a bit. Later though. Since I'm too drunk to get another insta-boner, it's time for me to work on her a bit. Plastic or not, no vagina can stay dry for too long when Ash starts giving head. Just cause she may be a prostitute doesn't mean she shouldn't have some fun also. And I get the feeling she's enjoying it as much as I am.

Fun and games are over. As Jemaine Clement would say in his sexy deep voice, it's business time. The sex itself is average - I can stand up but not thrust as hard as I usually would, although my inebriated state allows me to go for longer. Luckily I can cum just before my boner gives up. She just sort of smiles at me as I ask the question.
"So...are you a real woman? Or Kathoey?" Nods at the last remark.
"Meh. I don't care."
"Really? Most men do."
"I'm not most men."
"That is true. You are not Indian, are you?"
"No. I am from Australia."
"I can tell by the way you speak. Most Australian men do not like hearing I am Kathoey." Her English is quite good.
"Not me. Have a good night." I give her the cash and she exits the disused elevator, leaving me to recover for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, mind. I want to have a real woman tonight.

One thing about the Towers is that there's a hierachy. The bottom level is where the cheapest hookers are, the middle level is slightly classier, the third is for the dancers and the fourth is ladyboys. I head into FHM on the third floor. The internet taught me that dancers aren't hookers, but they may leave with you anyway if you have enough money (as opposed to strippers at home). Well I'm still flush.

Step into the bar and order a vodka martini. Seems like the time of night for one, even though they usually end up with me puking. I haven't smoked tonight though which helps.

Not surprisingly, it doesn't take long for some money-hungry girls to start trying to get free drinks off me. Since it's a little quieter here I can actually grill them better also. I got names (Which I won't list here) and even some background. At this stage, however, I'm getting to what my boys will recognise as the "Ashed" stage. Drunk enough to be awesome, but if I drink more I'll end up passing out. So I focus my financial resources on the women while demonstrating my pole dancing skills to my boy DJ Habib's mix, which I lent the house DJ from my iPod. Since I was throwing around cash like nobody's business he acquiesced. (Yo Ramez - I never mentioned the me pole dancing part when I told you DJ Habib was a hit in Singapore did I?).

Again, I'm learning just how far some cash takes you in this city at night. If I'd tried to poledance back home I'd've been evicted - hell I got banned from a club in Auckland just for climbing onto the podium. (Another day, another blog - but I was stage diving). But cause I'm spending money I can do what I like even if the other male patrons don't appreciate a skinny guy's dancing. YOLO bitches.

By now I'd been in the bar almost an hour and most of the girls had moved beyond me, but two of them were getting really close. I thought about making an exit with them but then they had to do their hourly show. Now maybe I'm drunk as all fuck by this point but these chicks are great. They're both smaller than strippers back home - naturally, since they're Asian - but what they lack in stature they make up for in moves. They're gonna be mine. Naturally, as soon as they come down from their stage I invite them to come back to my hotel room.

"I don't know."
"Do I have to pay?" I wasn't really keen on more prostitute action by now but at this stage I'd've paid a kidney to get these girls on my cock.
"No, we must check with the manager."
Luckily, it was all good. As it should be. I had made him a lot of money tonight.

On the cab back to my hotel, they started speaking in Spanish to each other, thinking I couldn't understand. Ha ha. As it turns out, I taught myself Spanish so I could understand Acidez and Narcosis lyrics. And yes girls, you did get lucky that night. You learnt exactly how lucky when we got back to the room and I got my pants off. I know you've seen Indian guys naked before and yes, I saw the surprise on your faces. Rest assured that I enjoyed seeing you both naked just as much.

In fact, I think we all enjoyed every moment of the sex. I won't bore you with details but let's just say that I was very late getting to the airport the next day and I have a couple of keepsakes from them (in return they took my hat and t-shirt, but hell - fair exchange, considering I put in one of my great drunken sex performances. I've never cum multiple times when drunk before).

The next morning I woke up and they were gone, but I could have cared less. Now I know how Charlie Sheen feels every morning. Right down to the burning sensation when I piss these days.

Match Review: Sharks v Sheagles

Date: 19 March 2012
Venue: Toyota Stadium
Conditions: Wet and greasy
Score: Cronulla 17, Manly 14.

The first half of football by the Sharks was their best half of footy so far this year. With an abundance of possession the ball was moving freely, our second phase play was looking slick and our boys were breaking the line on a consistent basis. The only thing that had stopped us from going into the sheds with an even bigger lead than 17-0 was what is now becoming a worrying trend - the inability to finish off opportunities. Ask Stone Hands Pomeroy about fumbling a grubber kick your grandma could have gathered and touched down.

Then came the second half where we started with a hiss and a roar...and it pretty much went downhill from there. For 65 minutes our defence was terrific, but as we all know it's the last 15 minutes which are the most important. There is absolutely no reason why we should have let them back into the game. Shane Flanagan said what every Sharks fan was feeling in those last 5 minutes - that it was gonna be a repeat of last year's game. (Had it been, I'm pretty sure I would have gone and cracked some Manly scum in the face, setting off another brawl like last year also. Of course, had that happened I'd probably be in the morgue.)

Manly, however, did not deserve to win and I'm not just saying that as a fan of theirs. They were ill disciplined on defense - Tony Williams in particular should be getting a long stint on the sidelines despite whatever bullshit flows out of Geoff Toovey's mouth - and lacked any real offensive spark until the last 20 minutes. Our defense did a good job of shutting them down but when they did get chances they too failed to convert them. One particular example that comes to mind was a first-half break by Michael Oldfield which would have led to a certain try had Williams not dropped a catchable pass.

Still, when all is said and done we got out of the game with the first win of the season. And God it felt good to belt out Up Up Cronulla. As I told my mum when I got home, I'd almost forgotten how good winning felt.

Danger Signs: Two big ones. Firstly, the near-collapse in the last few minutes. Other than 2008, this has seemingly been a trait of every Sharks team of the last few years - not specifically late game meltdowns but just the inability to play a complete 80 minute game on both offense and defense. When we do so we can beat anyone.

Secondly, the same thing I mentioned earlier that has bugged us all season - the sheer inability to convert offensive opportunities. Look at the stats. We lead the league in metres gained by a significant margin. Same with offloads. And we're second equal for line breaks behind just the Doggieeez. We should be putting 30 points on teams and we would be if we could get it together in the red zone. Thankfully tonight we saw the boys move away from the horribly predictable game plan down there of recent years with a lot more ball movement. I would however like to see us reducing our reliance on the bomb as a fifth tackle play, but I'll have more on this later.

Positives: Actually there are plenty. Even in the wet our offense continues to sparkle and threaten in our own half, something we haven't seen in years. The second phase play continues to be smart and effective. Our defense was rock solid for most of the game.

And, of course, the unstoppable half man/half android that is Paul Gallen/God. I'll just list his stats here:

30 runs for 249 metres.
34 tackles.
3 offloads.
80 minutes.

Any other player, these would be near superhuman. For Gal it's almost got to the point where this is another day at the office for him, that we as fans expect this kind of performance. He's getting to a point where if he has another few good years we're not just going to be talking about him as a future Sharks Immortal but a future rugby league immortal. No one in the game today has a bigger motor, plays with more heart and continues to inspire his men through his work.

Flanagan moved him to prop tonight, the position where he turned in an Origin performance for the ages last year and where I along with many other Sharks fans believe he is best suited. If Gal has a flaw it's that at times he tries to sometimes do a bit too much. Again, it's just because he cares, but he shouldn't be trying to play five eighth or even act as a distributor when his greatest skill is running the football. He has a nice offload at times but he should keep his ball playing to that. At prop he doesn't feel the pressure to do so and can focus on brutalizing the other defense - of course a great game by our halves tonight helped. Todd Carney had his best game in Sharks colours and Jeff Robson was a surprisingly effective foil with a solid kicking game.

Conclusion: The good signs we've seen so far this year continued tonight. For the first time in ages we seem to have a genuinely threatening offense and our defense held them down for most of the game. If the boys learn to execute consistently and defend for 80 minutes we have a shot at becoming one of the best teams in the comp.

I'm out. Gal be with you.

Kings Cross Chronicles, Part 1

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Gregg The Bounty Hunter: Who Gives A Shit?

By now, every NFL fan and anyone who follows NFL fans on social media has at least a working knowledge of the Saints' bounty scheme, where defensive players were paid extra to injure opposition offensive stars. I can't and won't bother re-hashing the details, but needless to say that then-Saints DC Gregg Williams (who's now accused of running a similar scheme in his stints in Buffalo and Washington) and some of the players involved are in hot water. Williams may be facing a ban from NFL coaching and will certainly be suspended/fined, and the Saints will probably lose some draft picks.

Now here's the question I have to ask. Who gives a shit?

If you didn't believe that this sort of thing is common in football at any level, forget about the NFL, then I want to visit your world of happiness and pixie dust. The Saints aren't wrong cause they did it - they're wrong cause they were caught. I'm a die-hard Raiders fan and there is no way in hell you can convince me that Al Davis wasn't doing the same thing with our defensive guys in the 70s, even though you'll never hear them admit it and rightly so. To this day, I can guarantee you that most (if not all) teams do something similar. Maybe not quite to the extent of the Williams bounty scheme but you will have coaches or star players buying dinner, fronting some cash or similar for the dudes who knock out QBs or RBs with good hits.

As with many things relating to football (and other American sports) I'm not sure if my confusion relates to some sense of American outrage that I don't possess. Shit, I remember my old under 11s footy coach telling us at halftime that whoever put in the hardest hit on the opposition's best runner and scared him the most would get double at Maccas after the game. Hardest legal hit, mind. If I have a problem with the Saints' scheme, it's that it would appear that it encouraged a level of illegality in hits - but even Kurt Warner admitted the hit that ended his career was legal. So I don't think even that's a big deal.

Whatever the reason, I can tell you for sure that I'm just waiting for this non-story to get out of the way so we can start focusing on the real stories in football. Like ManningWatch. Right now I'm prepared for a week of wall-to-wall coverage on every meal Peyton eats, every book he reads to his kids and every poop he takes while Jimmy Irsay tweets his genitals and no one cares until the announcement is made.

Peace out sluts.