Busted up after a weekend of near-death experiences

OVER the weekend I can honestly say I nearly died three times.

Some of you may be thinking, yeah, so what? But I thought it was something of note, worthy of inclusion into this weekly piece of journalism excellence.

It all started on Friday night when I copped a ball to the face in hockey. Picture this: a short corner in a hotly contested game, me running out to the stop the ball and somehow ending up having the ball hit straight into my melon at pace.

It wasn't a pretty sight, I can tell you.

Brent Lanzon made contact with it all right and it skied directly to my nose, thus stopping their goal.

There was lots of blood, a little bruising but luckily no breaks. I did stop for a second to think how in the hell he could miss this thing. I'm sure I'm related to Peter Sterling somewhere.

The second incident happened while I was riding my bike around Gladstone on Sunday.

Oh, and to the South Sydney supporters in the three cars who went past laughing while this was happening, thank you. I know they support Souths because they were missing teeth.

I reckon I nearly died while I was trying to make my way up to Auckland Hill lookout. All roads leading up there are a death trap for young players.

Every time I ride up there my heart skips a few beats due to the amount of stress I put on it.

I only fell off the bike two times but it was the second effort which had me worried, because I fell off at the crest of the hill and nearly rolled back down towards the yacht club before I stopped myself.

Oh, and to the South Sydney supporters in the three cars who went past laughing while this was happening, thank you. I know they support Souths because they were missing teeth.

As they happen in threes, the third and I think most frightening thing that happened to me was at home.

I've recently bought one of those automatic vacuum cleaners that travel the floor anytime doing a better job at cleaning than I do.

As I was bringing in the washing off the line, I tripped over this unit as it was running around the lounge room floor. The coffee I had been drinking spilt on my groin and I stubbed my pinkie toe.

At the moment I am writing this from bed resting my wounds: two black eyes, grazed knees, swollen toe and an electrical bill worth a thousand. Great weekend - at least the Roosters won!



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