Let Them Eat Cake...

ok...i write too much random shit all the time without actually saving it anywhere...maybe here? maybe now??!?!

Driving down the road in my ’57 ‘Stang
I squash a toad and my teeth grit
As I spit out the bad taste in my mouth
Left behind from shit I had for lunch
A lot of grease burger that was so bad
I had to guzzle it down with a beer
And eat a piece of cake that was baked
At a nearby place that makes desserts
That are the motherfucking BOMB!

take that!!!!

World of Wrestling #3

well, it took me what, a month, to fall back out of updating my blog regularly? oh well, i suck. in the meantime, enjoy another World of Wrestling...

i also just realized what a moron i am. so, last week's #2, was really #3. the one below, is really #2. i published them here out of order. how cool am i!??!

so read this one, before you read the one before it...or something...

World of Wrestling #2 – My Date in Dayton…

Since the summer of 2004, I’ve made the trip from New York City to Dayton, Ohio a total of five times. I’ve seen classic 60-minute time limit draws, and I’ve seen a World Title change hands. I’ve seen a brutal steel cage match, and I’ve seen Ricky Steamboat in the ring. Dayton has some great wrestling memories for me.

This weekend, was more of the same, but for sentimental reasons. It’ll probably be the last trip I make to Dayton for awhile. My wife is wonderful, and really lets me satisfy my wrestling wanderlust, but I’ve decided to make less long-distance trips so we can afford a house, and maybe even have some little rugrats who will become nearly as obsessed about wrestling as I am.

This was my sixth time in Dayton, and the first since I got married a few weeks ago. It was kind of weird going on such a trip without the wife, but she encouraged me to go and have fun, and to have sort of a bachelor party weekend. Fun, but not TOO much fun.

I’ve enjoyed Dayton every time I’ve been there. There is a Waffle House near the hotel my buddies and I like to stay at, and, even more importantly, right across the street there’s a wonderful redneck bar with cheap drinks, and Skynyrd and Van Halen on the juke box. That’s a fine place to just celebrate that the sun rose today, never mind my recent marriage.

But, of course, before all this, was a night of wrestling goodness. I will say this though: Eighteen months ago, Dayton was one of my favorite venues. The crowd seemed so into everything that happened, and ate it up. Recently though, there seems to be an infection of the dreaded East Coast Smarkitis (ECS) going around, because there seem to be an awful lot of wrestling fans in Dayton yelling really dumb things, saying some really smarky stuff to each other, and otherwise, trying to get themselves over.

I mean, when I overhear the guy next to me say to his friend “this match is weird because the faces are controlling the match,” I’m wondering what the hell planet I’m on. Seriously, I’ve never even thought something like that, much less said it. I just can’t imagine saying it.

Anyway, except for the smarky comments and some real racist jerks yelling crap at Jay Lethal during his whole match, it was a really fun card. There was solid wrestling, subtle storyline shifts, and even a major angle. When Necro Butcher and Chris Hero showed up in the crowd, sat down the bleachers, and started heckling the wrestlers, there was a noticeable increase in excitement and energy from the crowd that is usually reserved for special moments.

This led to an incredible brawl, and a badly bloodied Jim Cornette came out and cut one of his typically scathing promos, despite the fact he was obviously missing a couple of teeth from something that happened in the melee with Necro and Hero and the Ring of Honor wrestling locker room.

Later that night, my boys and I headed to the previously mentioned redneck bar, where tequila shots and beer flowed like blood in a Ric Flair cage match. A good time was had by all, and we even saw some of the wrestlers there. Prince Nana offered shrimp cocktails, Jack Evans requested a dance-off, and Jimmy Rave walked around with toilet paper on his shoe. And shoulder. And back. Poor Jimmy Rave.

Ok, well, the part with the wrestlers being in the bar didn’t really happen, but man, wouldn’t it be fun to celebrate your wedding with some of the wrestlers you watch in the ring?

A few hours later, we peel ourselves off the bar stool, dash drunkenly across a highway to get back to our hotel, and then while there, engage in the ultimate of decadence and debauchery. We pop in a wrestling video tape, and pass out. But only after we also checked out various wrestling message boards scattered around the internet, since I had a laptop, and the hotel had free wireless internet!

After some Z’s, but not really enough, Tom, Scott, and I drag our carcasses out of bed, pack up the car, and head to the Waffle House for some of American’s finest grease. We filled our stomachs with some of Waffle House’s amazing food, and then headed to Toys R Us to check out the wrestling action figures. We were looking for some from the Classics line. I, in particular, wanted Bruiser Brody.

Sadly, there weren’t any more figures more exciting than the Wild Samoans. Happily, there was a clean bathroom, which was desperately needed as it had been AT LEAST 15 minutes since we ate at the Waffle House. Here’s a tip, from my buddy Tom, for all of you who ever feel the need when you’re at Toys R Us:

The handicapped stall in the men’s room is also the baby changing station. Which means, baby wipes…and trust me, that so fresh so fresh so clean clean clean feeling on your bum can’t be beat.

And then, feeling a bit better, we hit the road to Cleveland…

Next Week…”How I spent a whole week in Cleveland in just one night…” or “Cleveland Rocks…sort of…”

World of Wrestling #2

yep. slacker-tivity has set in. it's been a busy couple of weeks. but, i do have a new column up on PWInsiderXTRA.com, which means i get to run the repeat of the previous week's column here. Hooray for YOU! ;o)

…”How I spent a whole week in Cleveland in just one night…” or “Cleveland Rocks…sort of…”

By the time we got to Cleveland, exhaustion had completely set in. Our brains were fried, our nerves short circuited, and our old asses desperately needed a nap. Unfortunately, we were already late meeting some other friends for dinner.

Even more unfortunately, at least for those friends, they were going to wait a little bit longer, as Tom, Scott, and I crashed out for an hour for a well-deserved nap. I think we all probably would have zoned for a bit longer, but since the guy who put together the little dinner advertised us being there like we were some kind of damned rock stars, we felt an obligation to go.

I also lost valuable nap time calling my wife and telling her how much I love her. Yep, I’m a sap, but you’d be too if you had a wife that let you go to wrestling shows 600 miles from home!

And let me say this now – if you ever, and I mean EVER, get the opportunity to eat at Alice Coopers’town (yep, THAT Alice Cooper) in Cleveland, avoid doing so at all costs. I mean, run far away. FAR away.

Ok, to be fair, that was the second time I’ve eaten there. The first time was pleasant enough – my burger was cooked how I like it, the drinks had a solid amount of liquor in them, and the TV we could see from our table actually had an old ECW DVD playing. So, it was a solid, if unspectacular time.

But let me tell you – this second experience sucked balls. And not in the good way. It took us 30 minutes to get an appetizer. A dozen buffalo wings – I mean Jesus, you would have thought they had to go to some farm in the middle of Ohio, find a nice, plump chicken, slaughter it, pluck it, cut it up, bring it back the restaurant, add the breading and sauce and whatever the hell else goes into chicken wings, fry it up, pour on more sauce, and then, and only then bring it to our table.

They were cold, by the way. Ok, not cold. Luke warm. But damnit, I didn’t wait that long to get wings that weren’t hot. I knew we should have been worried when, a bit earlier we asked the waitress if we might get served before pitchers and catchers report, and she responded with a “I’m looking for your food now…”

What, the chicken leaped off the counter and ran off?!?!

Twenty minutes after that, we get our main courses. None of them cooked to order, and the side dishes colder than witch’s teat. It was not a pleasant experience, and so infuriating that I couldn’t even bring myself to let the manager know how I felt, because I would probably have forked him in the head, Homicide style.

I did, however, email their corporate offices, and let them know my complaints and concerns. That was nearly a week ago. I haven’t heard back yet, but considering how long it took us to get served, that really shouldn’t surprise me.

Oh. Right. Wrestling. This is a pro wrestling column. I probably oughta get on with that, eh?

Adam Pearce kicks ass. Jim Cornette kicks ass. And so does Necro Butcher, but since he’s a heel, I hate him. And Adam Pearce for that matter. He’s a heel. But he defended his employer against the invading Necro Butcher. So he’s a face. But, wait, he wrestles like a heel. And cuts promos like a heel…um…never mind, screw it – over analyze these things, and I probably don’t like you much.

Let me tell you – when Necro Butcher leaped the railing, tossing his sandals to the side, that was hot. The building just kind of exploded as Necro, Pearce, and Cornette just started brawling, and the entire locker room poured out, pounding the lights out of Necro Butcher. Sometimes, Invasion angles work, and man, this CZW invading ROH angle? It works. Like a freakin’ charm.

It was a solid and enjoyable night of wrestling. Jimmy Yang nearly kicked me in the head when he went over the railing, and he did end up in Tom’s lap. I suppose that’s a softer landing than the chairs

There was dissension in the Embassy, as Jimmy Rave and Alex Shelley quibbled a bit. I’m a mark for dissension in the ranks, because this is what happens when people stop being nice, and start being real…err….yea…

Oh, and during the match, Prince Nana gave me the fakie high-five. “You like that? You like that?” he excitedly asked me as his minions were kicking Sal Rinauro’s butt. He gave me the high five hand, and I instinctually went to return the high five when he pulled his hand away, essentially “serving” me, as the kids these days call it. I was suitably embarrassed, but I’ll get that no good Nana one day! Curses Prince Nana! Curses to you I say!

I think Jack Evans died that night for our sins. Low Ki put a beating on him like nobody’s business.

Oh yea, and more dissension. BJ Whitmer finally had enough of now former partner Jimmy Jacob’s puppy love for Lacey, and laid him out. Did I mention I mark for dissension? I think I did. I’m probably also a mark for storylines in general. I’m the guy who often fast forwards past matches to get to the storylines and angles.

Anyway, enough of the results. If you want those, they’re elsewhere on line. On this site even. And if you want match times, go check out the Green Lantern Fan shoot DVD. I hear it’s haaawt….

We milled about for a bit after the show, thanked Yang for not killing us when he was flung over the railing, congratulated Roderick Strong for another successful defense of the tag team belts with his partner Austin Aries, and listened to Allison Danger tell us how great the new women’s promotion Shimmer is. Then she ordered us to purchase the DVD. I haven’t done so yet, but I promise I will Allison. Soon! Really! I swear!

After nearly getting choked out by Danger, Tom, Scott, and I decided that we needed a beer to wind down, and found this sweet place about 2 blocks from the venue called The Boneyard. Everything Alice Coopers’town wasn’t, the Boneyard was.

About 500 beers, over 100 of them on tap. And a big barrel of peanuts where you just grabbed a handful, threw them on your table, ate to your stomach’s content, and tossed the shells ON THE FLOOR. Now that, my friends, is a bar.

And for all you details-oriented folks, Tom had some random light (lite?) beer, Scott drank, I believe, a Coke, and I had a Shiner Bock. If you like beer, find Shiner Bock. It won’t be easy, but it is worth your troubles, because it’s the best damned beer on earth. The Best there is, the best there was…errr….yea…

Next Week “You’re not as smart as you think you is…”