Yesterday I handed in notice of my resignation. Well, technically I can't really resign because I’m only currently contracted until the end of November, but I let them know that I wouldn’t be begging for a renewal come the next month. Because I’ve been offered a job, also in media but not online – which actually pays! What a novel idea.
I told my three-tiered managerial tiger one at a time. The first guy didn’t say much, other than he was ‘bummed’. Expressive. The second one had just got back from a London conference and I think was still getting over her sleeping pills so didn’t do much more than grin at me. Not sure how much she remembers. The third, main-man, said ‘fuck’ about seven times. Always good to know you’re loved. Of course, his reaction could be directly related to me being the fourth person in the last month to leave… but you pay peanuts, even monkeys don’t stick around.
Sooo… I start a new job from Dec 1. Scary and exciting.
Last night I guested (it’s a word; deal) for another hockey team and had a good run around until the biggest hairest and lesbianest of the opposition told me to sit-the-fuck-down with a hand planted in the middle of my back. Seriously, this chick is big and scary, and if she’s not lesbian then she single. Or married to a Limpopo farmer.
She had the ball (did I mention she has a reach like a full grown orangutan?) and I was buzzing around her like a half-pint fly trying to get the ball back when it got ahead of both of us… we both dashed for the ball, but as my team mates know, once I’m going in one direction that’s it, boy. I turn like the titanic. So as I ran in front of Big Hairy Lesbo, she gave me a little shove – which was all the encouragement I needed to dive nosefirst into the astro turf. Arms flailing, superman-style, I hit the turf and skidded for a good few metres, my feet flipped over the back of my head and I somehow managed to slide for a bit on my back before rolling with the momentum, jumping to my feet and running on. What a hero.
Fortunately, my right knee took the full brunt of the fall so I was relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, it’s the same knee that I’d finally decided to let the doc look at this afternoon. So the somewhat problematic knee is now somewhat problematic, pussy and squishy to touch. Awesome.
Hmmm, just thinking about it, I’ve had a similar fall a few years ago, but instead of landing on my right knee, I landed solely on my right breast (which explains why there’s nothing left) and popped my shoulder out. I jumped up after that one too – but not to carry on playing… rather because I was fully aware that I had landed at the feet of the sports photographer.
“Please tell me you didn’t get that,” I begged.
“Wrong lense,” he sighed.
Talk about missed photo opps. His bad