Official Match Thread Season 37 - Round 5 - Coney Island Warriors v Mount Buller Demons at Van Cortlandt Park

[TheInjuryFactory]

Yes but what’s even more awesome is that Freofalcon is currently there

Don’t worry FF if you get bored you can always hit the bar and down a couple of vodka cruisers.

Couple of Stolis with the girls.

 

[Piggy Smalls]

I thought it was red but it’s faded to a pinky colour.

I didn’t realise until a girl on the train said she liked my pink shirt.

My wife bought me a white shirt online with a picture of Jye Amiss and ‘Jye Doesn’t Miss’ written on it. He’s my Freo board buddy too so i was very excited about this.

Wore it once and then she washed it with a red towel in the load. It’s now a pink Jye Amiss shirt

 

[cartwright]

I did a Rat test today and was shocked I don’t have Covid TBH.
Hope you start to feel better soon.

It’s not as bad as the first time I had it, just tired & heavy head cold symptoms - hope you’re feeling better soon too!

 

[spudmaster]

Hi all. I have the flu. It’s great.

I have Covid. It’s not great.

Change of plans. Required uniforms for tomorrow's game have been updated.

 

[Piggy Smalls]

Change of plans. Required uniforms for tomorrow's game have been updated.

View attachment 1918060

It’s not like anyone’s died from a bit of swine flu before.
Oh wait…

 

[zackah]

At a wedding last weekend and pretty much everyone there including the other half now has it accept me. Guess I am just made of better stuff






Also the wedding was in Melbourne - WTF is it with you Melbournians and Covid ffs

 

[Purple7x08_24]

View attachment 1917957

Surely this means either she rocks up to an SOAD concert with you OR

 

[Purple7x08_24]

Ok, here's my weekly poetry


In a study draped in the shadows of twilight, I sat, a prisoner of grief. The loss of my muse, Amara, a rising poet with eyes like twilight and laughter that echoed chimes, had hollowed my life. Worn books, once sources of inspiration, now mocked me from the shelves. Each creak of the old house seemed to whisper her name, each gust of wind a mournful sigh.

Suddenly, a tapping at my window. It wasn't the harsh pecking of a raven, but a gentle, rhythmic tapping. I opened the window with a hesitant hand, expecting despair to enter. Instead, a tiny hummingbird, its feathers shimmering like emeralds in the fading light, fluttered in.

It perched on the edge of my desk, its tiny heart beating like a drum against the silence. Unlike the Raven of Poe's despair, this creature wasn't a harbinger of doom, but a spark of life. Its presence, so vibrant and unexpected, seemed to ask, "Why are you letting grief imprison you?"

Shame washed over me. Amara wouldn't have wanted me to drown in sorrow. She, who found beauty in the smallest things, wouldn't have let her absence become a cage. Her memory should be a source of inspiration, not despair.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up one of her journals. Each page held a universe of emotions, dreams, and observations. As I read, the hummingbird remained, a silent companion. In Amara's words, I found not the echo of loss, but the symphony of her life.

Inspired, I dipped my pen in ink. The words flowed, not a lament for what was gone, but a celebration of what had been. I wrote of her laugh, her vibrant spirit, and the way she found magic in the ordinary. As I wrote, the room seemed to lose its gloom. The wind no longer moaned, but whispered encouragement.

The hummingbird, witnessing my shift, took flight, a tiny emerald streak against the darkening sky. It wasn't a raven haunting me with "Nevermore," but a reminder that life, even in the face of loss, held beauty and the promise of new beginnings.
Amara was gone, but her spirit, like the hummingbird's vibrant wings, had shown me the way out of the darkness. The Raven, a symbol of despair, had been transformed into a hummingbird, a reminder that even in the face of loss, there is always room for hope and the chance to create something beautiful.

 

[spudmaster]

At a wedding last weekend and pretty much everyone there including the other half now has it accept me. Guess I am just made of better stuff

View attachment 1918061




Also the wedding was in Melbourne - WTF is it with you Melbournians and Covid ffs

 

[spudmaster]

Ok, here's my weekly poetry


In a study draped in the shadows of twilight, I sat, a prisoner of grief. The loss of my muse, Amara, a rising poet with eyes like twilight and laughter that echoed chimes, had hollowed my life. Worn books, once sources of inspiration, now mocked me from the shelves. Each creak of the old house seemed to whisper her name, each gust of wind a mournful sigh.

Suddenly, a tapping at my window. It wasn't the harsh pecking of a raven, but a gentle, rhythmic tapping. I opened the window with a hesitant hand, expecting despair to enter. Instead, a tiny hummingbird, its feathers shimmering like emeralds in the fading light, fluttered in.

It perched on the edge of my desk, its tiny heart beating like a drum against the silence. Unlike the Raven of Poe's despair, this creature wasn't a harbinger of doom, but a spark of life. Its presence, so vibrant and unexpected, seemed to ask, "Why are you letting grief imprison you?"

Shame washed over me. Amara wouldn't have wanted me to drown in sorrow. She, who found beauty in the smallest things, wouldn't have let her absence become a cage. Her memory should be a source of inspiration, not despair.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up one of her journals. Each page held a universe of emotions, dreams, and observations. As I read, the hummingbird remained, a silent companion. In Amara's words, I found not the echo of loss, but the symphony of her life.

Inspired, I dipped my pen in ink. The words flowed, not a lament for what was gone, but a celebration of what had been. I wrote of her laugh, her vibrant spirit, and the way she found magic in the ordinary. As I wrote, the room seemed to lose its gloom. The wind no longer moaned, but whispered encouragement.

The hummingbird, witnessing my shift, took flight, a tiny emerald streak against the darkening sky. It wasn't a raven haunting me with "Nevermore," but a reminder that life, even in the face of loss, held beauty and the promise of new beginnings.
Amara was gone, but her spirit, like the hummingbird's vibrant wings, had shown me the way out of the darkness. The Raven, a symbol of despair, had been transformed into a hummingbird, a reminder that even in the face of loss, there is always room for hope and the chance to create something beautiful.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
This card was expensive,
Take off your clothes.

 

[zackah]

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
This card was expensive,
Take off your clothes.

 

[Dinsdale]

Ok, here's my weekly poetry


In a study draped in the shadows of twilight, I sat, a prisoner of grief. The loss of my muse, Amara, a rising poet with eyes like twilight and laughter that echoed chimes, had hollowed my life. Worn books, once sources of inspiration, now mocked me from the shelves. Each creak of the old house seemed to whisper her name, each gust of wind a mournful sigh.

Suddenly, a tapping at my window. It wasn't the harsh pecking of a raven, but a gentle, rhythmic tapping. I opened the window with a hesitant hand, expecting despair to enter. Instead, a tiny hummingbird, its feathers shimmering like emeralds in the fading light, fluttered in.

It perched on the edge of my desk, its tiny heart beating like a drum against the silence. Unlike the Raven of Poe's despair, this creature wasn't a harbinger of doom, but a spark of life. Its presence, so vibrant and unexpected, seemed to ask, "Why are you letting grief imprison you?"

Shame washed over me. Amara wouldn't have wanted me to drown in sorrow. She, who found beauty in the smallest things, wouldn't have let her absence become a cage. Her memory should be a source of inspiration, not despair.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up one of her journals. Each page held a universe of emotions, dreams, and observations. As I read, the hummingbird remained, a silent companion. In Amara's words, I found not the echo of loss, but the symphony of her life.

Inspired, I dipped my pen in ink. The words flowed, not a lament for what was gone, but a celebration of what had been. I wrote of her laugh, her vibrant spirit, and the way she found magic in the ordinary. As I wrote, the room seemed to lose its gloom. The wind no longer moaned, but whispered encouragement.

The hummingbird, witnessing my shift, took flight, a tiny emerald streak against the darkening sky. It wasn't a raven haunting me with "Nevermore," but a reminder that life, even in the face of loss, held beauty and the promise of new beginnings.
Amara was gone, but her spirit, like the hummingbird's vibrant wings, had shown me the way out of the darkness. The Raven, a symbol of despair, had been transformed into a hummingbird, a reminder that even in the face of loss, there is always room for hope and the chance to create something beautiful.

I have something in my eye

 

[Dinsdale]

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
This card was expensive,
Take off your clothes.

Vogon poetry is better and worse

 

[Tonga Bob]

View attachment 1917957

I thought it was meant to be two in the pink??

 

[Tonga Bob]

Ok, here's my weekly poetry


In a study draped in the shadows of twilight, I sat, a prisoner of grief. The loss of my muse, Amara, a rising poet with eyes like twilight and laughter that echoed chimes, had hollowed my life. Worn books, once sources of inspiration, now mocked me from the shelves. Each creak of the old house seemed to whisper her name, each gust of wind a mournful sigh.

Suddenly, a tapping at my window. It wasn't the harsh pecking of a raven, but a gentle, rhythmic tapping. I opened the window with a hesitant hand, expecting despair to enter. Instead, a tiny hummingbird, its feathers shimmering like emeralds in the fading light, fluttered in.

It perched on the edge of my desk, its tiny heart beating like a drum against the silence. Unlike the Raven of Poe's despair, this creature wasn't a harbinger of doom, but a spark of life. Its presence, so vibrant and unexpected, seemed to ask, "Why are you letting grief imprison you?"

Shame washed over me. Amara wouldn't have wanted me to drown in sorrow. She, who found beauty in the smallest things, wouldn't have let her absence become a cage. Her memory should be a source of inspiration, not despair.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up one of her journals. Each page held a universe of emotions, dreams, and observations. As I read, the hummingbird remained, a silent companion. In Amara's words, I found not the echo of loss, but the symphony of her life.

Inspired, I dipped my pen in ink. The words flowed, not a lament for what was gone, but a celebration of what had been. I wrote of her laugh, her vibrant spirit, and the way she found magic in the ordinary. As I wrote, the room seemed to lose its gloom. The wind no longer moaned, but whispered encouragement.

The hummingbird, witnessing my shift, took flight, a tiny emerald streak against the darkening sky. It wasn't a raven haunting me with "Nevermore," but a reminder that life, even in the face of loss, held beauty and the promise of new beginnings.
Amara was gone, but her spirit, like the hummingbird's vibrant wings, had shown me the way out of the darkness. The Raven, a symbol of despair, had been transformed into a hummingbird, a reminder that even in the face of loss, there is always room for hope and the chance to create something beautiful.

* magpie noises *

 

[Tonga Bob]

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
This card was expensive,
Take off your clothes.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Get in the van.

 

[FootyGuy13]

Anyone see that Fridge won the Anime Awards?

What do you mean "Who asked?"

 

[Tonga Bob]

Well I went to Ballarat today and watched the most boringest game of soccer in Christendom. Tickets were free though and the local brewery gave away beer to ticketholders so it wasn’t a complete loss.

 

[Dinsdale]

cooney hey it's gameday

 

[sausageroll]

View attachment 1917957

 

[moginie]

Good morning to my fabulous Buller comrades and to the Wazzas!

A glorious day for #Hate350. Hope you are feeling better today cartwright.

Time to go on another adventure! Isn't life fun?

 

[Dinsdale]

Good morning to my fabulous Buller comrades and to the Wazzas!

A glorious day for #Hate350. Hope you are feeling better today cartwright.

Time to go on another adventure! Isn't life fun?

Good moring, congrats on your impending win

 

[Freofalcon]

Yes but what’s even more awesome is that Freofalcon is currently there

Don’t worry FF if you get bored you can always hit the bar and down a couple of vodka cruisers.

Not afraid to admit that Pink puts on a pretty good show.

Cruisers may have helped as well. Thanks for the tip.

 

[Piggy Smalls]

Not afraid to admit that Pink puts on a pretty good show.

Cruisers may have helped as well. Thanks for the tip.

Did you throw your jocks on the stage?

 

[philreich]

Good morning all. This one will get underway around 4.30pm AEDST - good luck to both teams.