Wow! Where did all of you COME from all of a sudden? Had I known that people were actually reading this and just not commenting, I would've left you with a cliffhanger a long time ago!
After all the witty comments I received, I'm actually a bit scared to continue the story, because your guesses are much funnier than the truth.
So brace yerselves for an anticlimax. You only have yourselves to blame! Readers have no business being so much funnier than the author! (And yes, I DO know that being funnier than someone who isn't funny at all isn't really all that difficult. No need to rub it in.)
In the rare event that there is a reader among you who is visiting for the first time, and you happen to be a tad confused: YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF THE INTERNET... WELCOME TO THE TWILIGHT... just kidding!
Check your wit(s) at the door and read this ("previously on redsaid") before proceeding. Trust me, there is little else you need to know.
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So he stared into my eyes and slowly put his hand...
Oh, wait! Wrong story.
Let's take it from here:
He mumbled something. It was barely audible.
My heart sank. "Oh, no... please... PLEASE don't tell me you've just said what I thought I heard you say?" I pleaded.
But my ears had not deceived me after all, because he said:
"Sports. They're looking for a sports reporter."
(So yes, YOU were correct, even though you 'cheated' to get to the answer! Ha ha. Anyway, I TOLD you your guesses were much funnier! PLEASE don't shoot? Instead, feel free to throw me with pies. Cherry would be nice, but I actually prefer apple pie with cinnamon.)
Anyway, I felt like fainting on the spot. And here's why:
You see, dear reader, South Africa is a sports-crazed nation. The weather is fantastic year-round, so jocks can indulge all of their passions - from absailing to wrestling (is there even a sport that begins with the letter 'z'?) on any given day.
And they do. For 365 days a year (unless it's a leap year), golfers golf, wrestlers wrestle, runners run, archers arch and rhythmic gymnasts... have rhythm.
The rest of the time, like, when the athletes get tired from all their athletics, they get to watch other people be sporty.
And the most Hallowed of all the spectator sports is Rugby. It is similar to your football, but actually not at all, because rugby players don't get to wear helmets and retro shoulder pads and tight pants hugging their perfectly round little buns... oh, sorry! Got a bit carried away there.
Rugby players also don't get to stop and rest every thirty seconds like the football players seem to be able to do. Once the ball is in motion, rugby players run around almost non-stop for the duration of the game.
Oh, and another slight difference between rugby and football is that rugby teams actually have to play against teams from other COUNTRIES - you know, those places you can only go to when you have a passport? - before they get to call themselves world champions. But I really like that it's all about self-esteem building here in the United States, where your teams only have to win against teams from other U.S. cities to be called world champions.
Okay, end of digression.
Like I started to say somewhere up there, rugby in South Africa is SACRED, so I suspected that writing about it would be a monumental responsibility.
But really, I had no idea...
Okay, I hate to do this to you again, but I have to go and do something else. Something OFFLINE! What a concept! So instead of saving this in draft form and only posting it after I've finished writing the whole saga, I've decided to give you this unappetizing morsel. So yes, once again, to be continued...
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The sick thing is that I will keep checking back to see when you continue the story... but damed if I will if you drag this one story out for a month or two. (OK actually I would keep checking... what the hell is wrong with me).
Oh read, you've made a little Kiwi very happy... a girl blogging about rugby...
The Super 12 started last night... and so the season begins... I watch when nothing else is on, unless the All Blacks are playing...
Then I am glued... beer in one hand, on the edge of my seat...
I can't believe you were a sports reporter.. I bet you got to go and watch heaps of games...
Wistful sigh...
oops got my red/reads mixed up...
cheated? I prefer to call it being resourceful...
Red Dahling,
I'm confused!!! what is rugby? And what does it have to do w/anything?
Spoken like a true american girl.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US!?!?!?!
What you just don't realise is who I had to sleep with to get you that job. It was SO worth it. Just let me know if you need another job like that one, and I'll, um, get right on it ;)
I was going to guess obituaries or weather reports. Writing about sports sounds so much more exciting - or daunting, depending on how you look at it.
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