| WELL HEY THERE ONLINE FANS |
[Dec. 29th, 2006|07:16 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Cleveland, OH | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  exhausted | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Prince - "Pussy Control" | ] |
I saw this on Alicia's LJ and thought I'd participate, since I never update this anymore, though I promised myself I would.
1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?
Saw the guys from Dragon Gate wrestle live, visited Niagra falls (and the vestibule of the Baseball Hall of Fame), made out with two girls at the same time.
2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
My resolutions are always broad and never specific enough for me to gauge them successfully. I wanted to finish the second book this year, but didn't. I wanted to fix a lot of the smooshy sides of my life, and I did. So, I don't know. And yes, I'll make sweeping generalizations about life this year, too.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Only the countless second-cousin spouting cousins who are always giving birth, to the point that I cannot in good faith keep track of them all.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Buck O'Neil. :(
5. What countries did you visit?
america the country
6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
More money. Specifically, having money sitting around for which I have no plans. More writing successes. A hilarious new wrestling career.
7. What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
When I moved to Cleveland. Meeting Alicia, Bill, and Ryan. Any time I get to hang out with Folby. Cape Cod with Fireball and Karen.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Moving on, as best I can.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not trying harder to be a "real" writer.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Besides the pulminary fibrosis I've had since I was little, I ran a pallet jack over my foot and squished it flat, so I had slapstick feet.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
My cat, Jumbo Tsuruta.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
American Fucking Dragon Bryan Fucking Danielson
13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
Homicide :(
14. Where did most of your money go?
DVDs and food. Yeah, that's pretty much it.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Living through the best world title run of my wrestling fan life with American Dragon, seeing him wrestle in Chicago and Cleveland. Getting to meet a lot of my friends from the website, during a time when it seemed like our website was gonna die. And, well, a variety of girl-related things.
16. What song will always remind you of 2006?
"Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance, aka the greatest band in the history of our good earth
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Happier, definitely. Last winter I was a sad panda.
b) thinner or fatter? Thinner, I think. But I feel fatter.
c) richer or poorer? Poorer, because I'm paying for my independence again. BUT RICHER IN SPIRIT~
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Writing, for real. Not fucking around and waiting for things to happen for me.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Playing video games. I don't play them unless I get a game I really like, and then playing them is ALL I do. The worst this year: Kingdom Hearts II, Final Fantasy XII, and Mario Kart.
20. How will you be spending New Year's?
Rushing out of my menial task food serving job to stand in the middle of a gay club with a big fucking smile on my face. Probably.
21. Did you fall in love in 2006?
Yes.
22. How many one-night stands?
None, technically.
23. What was your favorite TV program?
24
24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Surprisingly I don't hate anyone, now that I think about it. Huh. Well, not enough to mention them here.
25. What was the best book you read?
Things Fall Apart: A Novel by Chinua Achebe
26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
The Gunslinger!
27. What did you want and get?
American Dragon as ROH World Champion during all 12 months of the year.
28. What did you want and not get?
American Dragon still being the ROH World Champion when 2007 starts.
29. What was your favorite film of this year?
The Fountain
30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
My birthday was very nondescript this year because I was holed up in Virginia trying to save money to get somewhere where I'd be able to be happy and do things. I'm hoping the big two seven is a better birthday.
31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I can't just keep putting "American Dragon doing stuff" as my answers for this. I'll say money again. Or having Boomerang and WWE 24/7 on my cable system.
32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?
I now own two The Dugout brand t-shirts!
33. What kept you sane?
Lindy, and occasionally indy wrestling.
34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
oh for the love of
The picture of Sailor Mars can also go here again.
35. What political issue stirred you the most?
I can't even think of something smarmy to go here. I really care that little. It's such a disgusting enterprise in its entirety that a person obsessed with the day-to-day happenings of a fake carny sport can't bring himself to give a shit.
36. Who did you miss?
Eddie Guerrero.
37. Who was the best new person you met?
Alicia, Bill, Ryan, and Karen.
38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006:
Whatever relationships you have attracted in your life at this moment, are precisely the ones you need in your life at this moment. There is a hidden meaning behind all events, and this hidden meaning is serving your own evolution.
39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood |
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| Progressive Boink Update~! |
[Sep. 7th, 2006|11:53 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | creative | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Terry Reid - "Seed of Memory" | ] |
Consider our shit officially "gotten together."
P-Boi returns to the old 3 articles a week format with my first full article of the new century. The 20 Gayest Tag Teams in Wrestling History.
http://www.progressiveboink.com/archive/20gayesttagteams.html
If you like wrestling (or gay people), you'll love this. If you like looking at pictures of retarded looking people in chaps and shit and reading people making fun of them, this is also good for you. If you don't like wrestling, still, give it a read, because I wrote hard on it and need your moral support. :)
Enjoy, friends! |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 20th, 2006|10:18 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
I'm having trouble going to sleep. I have to work at five a.m. I don't know why. Because I let myself. Because this is what I expect of myself.
I called Alicia to tell her "happy birthday." I didn't want to be a bother, so I didn't stay long. I called Lindy despite the fact that she left my house an hour ago for no particular reason, and when her phone died out the third time we just said goodnights. I sat in my bed listening to the wind blow for a few minutes.
Yesterday is still on my mind. We were driving to the new Wal-Mart that just opened down the road to see if it was super and if they had groceries, because I never have a hell of a lot of money for eating. We hadn't been "fighting" really, but we'd been our head-lowered stubborn selves and they were clashing. It was raining, hard, and we felt wrapped up in soaked blankets in the front seat of the car. It just held us in. Lindy goes, "Oh!" There was a black spot in the middle of the road, and it was moving around.
It was a dog. A chihuahua. The fattest I've ever seen. She was black but her face and hands were turning gray. She was wandering around in the middle of the street, a few inches from the bumper of a car that'd stopped, hoping she'd run onto the grass. The dog just stood there bug-eyed. Terrified. The little stinging rain and the car horns and the scent of it all. Lindy pulled into a driveway and I ran out into the street.
When I approached her, she flattened her ears and looked at me with a look I've seen before. "Help me" in so many words. "Please don't hurt me" in others. Lindy thought she was a pig. I had to squat down and scoop my arms beneath her to lift her up without incident, and the lady who wished she hadn't had to wait that long in the car waved "thank you" in my direction. I held the shivering dog in my arms and ran back to the car, my hair flattened by the increasing downpour.
Thankfully the animal shelter was open until six on Saturdays. "That's the fattest chihuahua I've ever seen," said the man at the desk. "I thought that was a cat when you first pulled it out." On the drive over she'd shaken and remained silent. She didn't know where she was going. I didn't know who she was. I didn't know her name. I didn't know if she'd ran out while the old lady who held her tight to a lap on mornings opened the door to bring in groceries. I didn't know if there was an old lady at all. But there had to be. There had to be somebody's lap. She was too fat and too old for excuses. My lap wasn't the one she knew, but she was sitting, because it beat the rain.
I scooped her up into cage 69 while the attendant gave her some fresh food and water, and started to dry her up. "About eight years old," she said. Hands went places that normal folks don't on dogs. The attendant hmm'd and bit her lip, and suggested that the dog might be pregnant. It might be a false pregnancy, but she'd have to do some tests. Lindy walked in behind me and I went to wash my hands.
I guess she's still there right now, sleeping with her bug eyes open on a metal floor beneath a water bottle. A bowl with food she's never tasted. It's not like the lap. It doesn't have the shawl or the hands, or the smell of cookies or the sounds of needlepoint. It's a box, next to a Boxer or a hound.
I started wondering if I'd done the right thing. It seemed like it. She had a collar, but no tag. No identification. If they call looking for her she's safe, and not under the wheel of a car, and not sitting in wet grass with puppies or not puppies in her belly. She was so scared. I thought about my cat Shelton, crying and pissing all over me as we rushed her to a hospital that couldn't help. I remembered the flashing yellow caution lights and the same goddamn rain. I just wanted it to stop. As we drove over to the Wal-Mart it rained, still. Against my wishes.
I'm having trouble sleeping, but I don't know why. I just put my head against my arm and a pillow between, and listen to the wind for a while. |
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| Jumbo |
[Aug. 20th, 2006|07:43 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | /think I'm goin to Cat Mandu | ] |
| [ | music |
| | One of Lindy's parody songs about cats | ] |
Some artsy fartsy pictures of our kitty, Jumbo.
( More after the break... ) |
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| The Fair: A Veritable Smorgasbord |
[Aug. 12th, 2006|08:41 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  silly | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "I Like That" by Chingy? I guess? | ] |
Today these two [i]chuckleheads[/i] took in a day at the Cuyahoga County Fair, the best fair currently going on in Ohio that I would not have to drive two hours to get to! In Columbus they're having the State Fair with performances by Bo Bice and Disney Channel multimedia superstars Aly and AJ, but fuck that noise, what one (me) expects from a fair is doo doo with hay over top of it and some shit that spins the funnel cake out of me, and in that a fair is a fair.
( Read more, with pictures~! ) |
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| THIS IS AWESOME clap clap clapclapclap |
[Aug. 1st, 2006|09:31 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Europe - "The Final Countdown" | ] |
Per Folby's request:
Last night "the ol' ball an chain" and I took in a show at the Cleveland Greys Armory featuring Ring of Honor brand professional wrestling entertainments. This was my fourth live ROH show, and sure to be the worst one I've attended because the first three were Joe vs. Kobashi and the Chicago doubleshot. The counterbalance to that was FRONT ROW CENTER seats, something I've NEVER gotten in ANY way since I first became a wrestling fan 20 seconds after conception. I've been to at least 50 house/indy shows, 2 Raws, 4 Thunders, a Nitro, and 2 Smackdowns, and I've NEVER sat front row.
The Greys Armory is about twenty feet from Jacobs Field, so parking is difficult, and it was built in the 19th century (no shit), which means no air conditioning and only about two doors out. Skipping sentimental ambiance shit, the place was a fucking furnace. I went into it prepared with a sleeveless t-shirt (because as Sundown Motel mentioned, I do not own shirts with sleeves) and a sunny outlook for the FIRST TIME FRONT ROW, so profuse sweating aside things were pretty swank. Plus they were giving out complimentary cups of water to keep us from dying of heatstroke, and Lindy is good at making middle school-style paper fans.
Of note: I was sitting next to that WhoHasCalledMeHAGE guy from the ROH forums who sends in results, and I know this because he was furiously typing on his Blackberry whenever anything would happen. He was a nice guy, and joined in on my American Dragon Bryan Danielson love.
Preshow:
Alex Payne, Rhett Titus, Bobby Dempsey vs. Trik Davis, C.J. Otis, Pelle Primeau.
I tried to give Pelle some handslapping love because 1) of Folby, and 2) nobody else was doing it. The match was pretty solid, one of the better student affairs I've seen, even if it did resemble that X-Division "plan everything out meticulously before we go out there" running pushing jumping stuff. Bobby Dempsey cracked me up by staying on the apron for almost the entire match before calling his opponent a bitch and doing a standing splash where he barely even jumped. Keep messing with Fat Dempsey, see what happens.
Egotistico Fantastico v. Shane Hagadorn
Oh Shane Hagadorn. As I explained to Lindy, Hagadorn is exceptional at being a heel but pretty bad at ACTUALLY being a heel. He does the YOU SHOULD ALL LIKE ME... YOU MORONS!!!!! thing where he's two seconds from insulting our local sports team but it's all just so wrestlingy. He does get points for being the first person to interact with me in the front row, making heel comments about Lindy and the showing of tits, and for asking the ref to check the sharpness of the horns on Egotistico's mask before the match. He got the win by pulling brass knucks out of his trunks because he once saw the Million Dollar Man do that on TV or something.
Show:
Claudio vs. Delirious
You know what is never going to get old? People going HEEEEEEEEEEEY at Claudio when he does a move, finishes a move, starts a move, walks, breathes, or stands. Delirious is super over with everyone as always, responding to Claudio's handshake offer by bending down and screaming into the open hand, making gibberish dancing noises as he reversed holds, and taking Lindy's Indians hat off to put on somebody else's head as he ran around the ring. I warmed to Claudio a bit in the match mostly because his interaction is a bizarre kind of condescending snobby instead of the standard HEY FUCK YOU retort from most of the ROH roster. Delirious got the win with a roll-up. /shrug
Cabana/Ace Steel vs. EM BAH SEE
I wasn't hot on Sal Rinauro replacing Alex Shelley in the Embassy, nor was I happy that Prince Nana wasn't making the trip to Cleveland this time, but the whole thing just seems to work in execution. Rinauro makes for a great hapless partner/footstool for Jimmy, makes Jimmy seem more important, and continues his excellent history of ring gear by wearing the exact same slave girl skirt as Daizie but in a different color. Before the match started I complimented ROH photographer Mary Kate on her "Official Jimmy Rave Approved Footstool" shirt, which proved to be a bad omen.
The match itself was enjoyable, with lots of Rave/Rinauro mishappy goodness and Cabana being Cabana, making me laugh by asking the referee how he couldn't hear Haze yelling like an Indian during her interference and his constant COME ON ACE COME ON ACE COME ON ACE THERE YOU GO ACE COME ON ACE on the ring apron. He made Sal crack up a couple of times. The finish was more WWE style roll-uppery, but featured Jimmy Rave getting hit in the face as hard as fucking humanly possible with a cowbell. Immediately afterward he had a huge purple spot across his forehead and then he just started GUSHING. He got to the back as quickly as possible, Mary Kate freaked out and immediately left to take him to the hospital, and
1) I did not get to meet Jimmy Rave because he was at the goddamn hospital
2) I got to hear Bobby Cruise smirk with fans about how Mary Kate is a drama queen
Jay Briscoe vs. Jimmy Jacobs
Jimmy Jacobs gave a live performance of "Match of the Year" which was spectacular, but not nearly as spectacular as his hair. It's gotten shaggy and purple and keeps getting weirder. Lacey looked good as always but her face was puffy and red from the heat, and Lindy (who was evidently looking at her butt a lot) noticed she was wearing granny panties. Lindy then explained to me that Lacey is ALWAYS wearing granny panties. Later, in the ladies room, Lindy complimented Lacey on her skirt. Not as funny as Alison Danger asking her for a tampon in Chicago.
I still think the Briscoes have the best non-superstar lightshow theme in the company. And Jesus Christ are those guys jacked. During the match Mark Briscoe is walking around outside and some guy goes "MARK I NEED SOME STEROIDS" and Mark turns and goes "oh yeah?"
Mark Briscoe vs. Homicide
I used to hate Homicide using a lariat as his finish, especially when he uses the fucking Kudo Driver otherwise, but I've grown to love it. Especially when he does it like he does in this match, without a huge setup. He just dodges a move, WHOOSH the elbow pad goes flying off, and then boom, lariat. I now join Folby in reaching a goal every wrestling fan should strive to reach: banging on the guardrails during Homicide's entrance.
Oh, and if I counted correctly, Mark used a springboard three times.
Austin Aries, Jack Evans, Matt Sydal, and Rod the Big Leg vs. Davey Richards, Irish Airborne, and the fat part of D'Lo Brown
I'm not as googly eyed for this match as everyone else was, and hell, maybe it's just because I abhor the faces we're supposed to love and respect so much, but that's just me. It was entertaining, but I'm thinking it would've been total ass without the "Dragon Gate rules" of no tagging and no real selling and no real nothing but super fast spots. Jarelle Clark makes me want to be a professional wrestler because I'm pretty sure I look like Chris Masters compared to him. The highlight of the match for most people was the four corner stereo dueling 630 splashes into stereo dueling shooting star presses from everyone involved. The highlight of the match for ME was watching everybody do the lucha dives to the outside to set up the big American 2 x 4 death spot from Jack Evans, watching Jack go for a space flying tiger drop, and seeing him get caught and be DEATH MURDERED by Davey Richards. Elevated butterfly DDT like a motherfucker. I like Davey. And my least favorite wrestlers lost.
For those interested, the heckling of Roddy Strong DID continue. I told myself I was going to enjoy my front row seat and not try to "get myself over" but fuck, Roderick is right in front of me with his butt to me and right below his left ass cheeck he's got a square of toilet paper. Toilet paper on his ass. God. Lindy and I start going (normally) "Strong! Roderick! You've got toilet paper on you! Roderick! Rod! Toilet paper!” He doesn’t listen and we get louder and more monotone. Eventually he turns to us, mumbles something neither of us could understand, and starts wiping at his butt. He got it off, but a few minutes later he’s getting into the ring and he’s got a big long piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his shoe. So we go “TOILET PAPER ON YOUR SHOE, RODERICK. ON YOUR SHOE.” He ignores us, but he inconspicuously tries to wipe it off on the ring apron, looking at us out of the corner of his eye.
Roderick Strong is such a tool. God. Hahaha.
BJ Whitmer vs. Chris Cage
BJ is over like a motherfucker but even that couldn’t salvage a match with a guy who spent 200 years in OVW as the juiced up Matt Hardy before getting fired for being the juiced up Matt Hardy. I made Bobby Cruise smile by asking Chris why he’s wrestling in leather pants. Whitmer won with the Owen Driver 97 in a match that will only be remembered because the lights were overheating in the blistering hot armory and shut off completely. We were all pretty quick to start chanting “dark match.” After the show Chris Cage walked by the people outside waiting for autographs but nobody bothered him.
Christopher Daniels vs. ChrisTIAN Cage
I’ve always liked Christian, and Daniels for that matter, though neither opinion rings too pleasant on the old Internet. Christian has never been an A+ wrestler but the warm reaction from the Cleveland crowd and some lengthy mic time made us all happy he was there. Well, those of us who weren’t happy already. There were lots of little kids and fat ladies in Captain Charisma T-shirts who obviously just came to see him. Here’s to hoping they enjoyed Homicide, or some shit. The highlights of the pre-match banter included:
1) Someone starting a “We want Edge” chant, which got laughing groans and a “Edge banged your mom” response from Christian.
2) Christian’s sweet ass ring jacket, which probably costs more than the entire ROH roster.
3) Alison Danger being SMOKING FUCKING HOT for the first time in her life. I don’t know man, she was just fine that night. She gave us a generous view of her non-granny underwear (which Lindy complimented because I guess she likes chicks butts) a couple of times.
4) Christian ragging on AJ Styles by pointing out AJ stealing his hood and chest-slapping mannerism, leading into the return of the five second pose (!!!!) with Daniels as Daniels, Christian as AJ, and Danger as the amazon lady from TNA. Absolutely hilarious. I’m glad I got to see the last five second pose ever in person. I fucking MISS that tag team every day.
American Fucking Dragon Bryan Fucking Danielson vs. Nigel McGuinness - World Title rematch
A classic in every sense of the word, only slightly marred by the one douchenozzle a couple of rows back chanting “OVERRATED” and “LETS GO NIGEL” literally every 10 seconds. It was infuriating. It’s like, yeah, I know you like Nigel, guy, at least cheer in response to the match and not in response to your predetermined thoughts on the wrestlers. I hate Roderick Strong but I’m not ignoring the match to go “LET’S GO BIG LEG” every millisecond.
The match was fucking oustanding, though, with tons of painful submissions and fucked up strikes, including three lariats by Nigel that ALL were believable near-falls. Nigel had that lariat ON, for real, just knocking the shit out of Dragon with it. When he set Dragon on the middle of the top rope and came off with the last lariat I almost lost my mind cheering for Dragon to roll out of the ring. The best moment had to be a headbutt sequence of all things, where both guys just went balls out with unprotected headbutts to the face. One guy would just bounce off the ropes and run skull first into the middle of the other guy’s face. It was like the chop battle in Joe/Kobashi but with the emotion replaced by wincing. Dragon is a bad fucking ass. He won in a really hilarious way, crawling under the ring, coming up from the other side and catching Nigel in a small package. After the match Dragon had Cruise announce him as “Mr. Small Package” Bryan Danielson. I love that man. I absolutely do.
I’ve now seen three Dragon title defenses in person, and this might’ve been my favorite. I liked it more than their first match, too, which I picked up on DVD along with the Dragon Gate tripleshot before the show.
Post Show:
Lindy has a big ROH shirt she got for free for buying front row tickets last time, so we tried to get as many autographs as we could on it. Colt Cabana was already on there from an indy show Lindy went to, so we had our start.
Minor Autographs added to the shirt:
Jake Crist of Irish Airborne
Ace Steel (the bastard)
Jack Evans
BJ Whitmer
Mark Briscoe
Very cool autograph added even though I’ve met him before:
Christopher Daniels
We also got Davey Richards to sign the shirt, which was cool for me because I like the guy, especially after watching him super destroy Jack Evans. He’s really not very big, but he’s got the tiniest hands I’ve ever shaken. They’re like Lindy’s size, and Lindy is barely 5’1. I shook his hand because it’s going to be harder later when he’s main eventing shows and everybody loves him.
Nigel McGuinness was one of the last autographs we got because, well, about 20 minutes before he’d been headbutted in the face like 10 times. He was gracious to everyone, asking Lindy if she’d had fun at the show and telling me God Bless when I told him how much I loved the match. I’ll always remember Nigel here because he was loopy, but also because he and Whitmer were leaving in a car with Strong, and kept going WHERE’S RODDY. Roddy wasn’t there, because a few minutes earlier he’d walked out on his cell phone and ignored everybody, and was wandering around in circles in the parking lot trying to avoid fans and autographs. Big Leg is such a jerk. Hahah, God. Fuck him, seriously.
Austin Aries and Lacey were doing what they always do, which is act like they are in a super hurry to leave on big business that is both pressing and immediate. Aries was all I CAN SIGN ONE AUTOGRAPH WHOOPS I’M WALKIN TIME TO GO CAN’T STAY OH ONE MORE WHOOPS NOW I SERIOUSLY GOTTA GOOOOO. I think Lacey is just scared of male fans. I don’t know. I’d like to have their autographs on the shirt, but I’m not losing sleep over it.
I had my second run in with Homicide, who didn’t sign the shirt because I didn’t ask him too. I have no idea what’s going on between us, but this was the second time we’ve been within 2 feet of each other, looked at each other in the eyes, and moved on. He just makes eye contact with me and I’m fucked, and I can’t say anything except “good match” or something, and he says “thanks” or whatever, and moves along. Maybe I’m afraid he’ll try to pour Draino down my throat or something if I say the wrong thing. One day I’ll get his autograph, but it’ll probably be when I ship the shirt to Folby and make him do it.
Last but not least, the most wonderful moment of all time.
My favorite wrestler in the world.
I didn’t know what to say. I could barely speak. I said “I cheered my heart out for you.” It was true. He nodded his head a couple of times, because he was just as loopy and tired as Nigel, and said “thank you.” I asked him if I could trouble him for a picture. Lindy told us to make mean faces. That was the meanest face he could make after being hit in the face with someone’s head 10 times and clotheslined off the top of a rope. That was the meanest face I could make standing next to American Dragon Bryan Danielson.
He’s the best autograph on the shirt. The best in the world. |
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| ain no stoppen me NUUUUUUUH |
[Jul. 24th, 2006|08:52 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | hot | ] |
| [ | music |
| | That Happy-Happy Village song from Earthbound for the SNES | ] |
Today was a bizarre day. I'm saying that as I type sunburned as a motherfucker because my swimming pool does not have a super retractable UV roof that would protect me from such things. The Charlotte tattoo on my shoulder is turning purple from the red mixing with the blue. I'm going to harden, crack open, and reveal the terrible McFarlane monster beneath my skin.
Anyway, I woke up expecting to attend a WWE GET REAL event featuring wrestler Charlie Haas and wrestless Women's Champion Mickie James. I like Charlie a lot but Mickie has a luscious booty, and, well, I haven't seen her in person since she was about 20 pounds and 2 implants lighter. Several sentences comically backpeddling
But yeah, WWE GET REAL is a "kids, you should read" set of speeches delivered by people who fake punch each other for a living and then die of engorged hearts. But I love them, so I wanted them to tell me to learn how to read so I could get their autographs and maybe get a picture taken. I could even get my vintage original Team Angle shirt autographed by Haas.
About 25 minutes of wandering around the Cleveland Public Library looking for where they were set up, we asked the first person out of a group of 50,000 who knew what he was talking about: The event wasn't at the Cleveland Public Library. Not the actual one. It was at a BRANCH of the Cleveland Public Library, of which there are literally trillions. Some branches have dozens of other branches stacked on top of them. We were boned, and there was no Charlie Haas or luscious booty in our future.
BUT
BUT
The WWE is in town this week (so is ROH, but that's another story) so there are even MORE autograph signings...problem is, they all take place at the same time. So we hauled ass to lollapalooza and got to a Chevy dealership promising UPFRONT GUARANTEES in time to catch a former Intercontinental Champion coming off his lunch break:
The day didn't go as planned, but I shook hands with Shelton Benjamin. He was a nice guy, though we didn't get to talk much. Car lot autograph signings don't afford you the same intimacy as a post-show bar or something, but he appreciated my Team Angle shirt, signed it "SHELTY B." (which is awesome), and wore his arrogant shirt and sunglasses as he signed action figures, made little overweight black girls swoon (which was adorable), and gave of-age averageweight black girls hugs.
Oh, and I mackslapped that douche in the background and made him an upfront guarantee that I was going to kick his asshole in if I ever caught him in a pink shirt with an orange tie again. |
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| Thoughts on Cape Cod |
[Jul. 5th, 2006|02:26 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  listless | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Avril Lavigne - "Forgotten" | ] |
Some random thoughts about Cape Cod, before moving on to its aftermath.
1. What the fuck is bowling?
I don't know about you, but where I come from the word "bowling" suggests going to a place full of hardwood lanes and rolling a big heavy ball down said lanes into a group of ten or fewer pin-shaped white pins. That makes sense to everyone, right? Bowling is bowling. I can't make it more simple than that.
Lindy, Justin, Folby, and myself decided that with no good movies playing (they were playing "The Shaggy Dog" at the drive-in) and beach conditions dismal we'd do something to pass the time, and bowling seemed like a good idea. None of us are bowling superstars, but it's a great place to drink and eat grotesquely-fried foods and act like doofuses. So we drove for like 30 minutes (everywhere in Cape Cod takes 30 minutes or more to drive to. If you drive to your next door neighbor's house it will take you 45 minutes) and found a bowling alley with a big BOWLING sign on the front. That means "bowling," right?
Okay, you can't really tell from that photo, but what was inside that building knocked me on my ass. Seriously, a midget with an air rifle could've ridden up to me on a small pony and shot me in the balls and it would've made more sense than this. It's called "candlepin" bowling, and instead of using a big ball to knock down pin-shaped pins you use a small ball and a bunch of bumpers to knock down these big cylinders. I just, I mean, I still don't understand it. Why is bowling not bowling here? "This is how people bowl here!" I'm told. It's just wrong. Like I'm going to waltz past a playground and see a bunch of kids slam dunking a frisbee. Absolutely unacceptable.
There was no bowling.
2. Best graffiti ever.
To add to the Twilight Zone Bowling for gimps and sociopaths, Cape Cod upped the weirdness by displaying the most comical and thought-provoking piece of graffiti I've ever seen. Most of the time graffiti is just somebody's "name" written in crazy blue letters with some silver tint in the middle and oh god let me suck basquiat's dick. This was different. This was LIFE BY DONUTS.
I think "LIFE BY DONUTS" would've hit me regardless, but what really drives this home is that the thing living a life by donut is apparently a donut reading "FRANK 4 EVER" with bat wings and arms. Although I question how I'm going to live a life by donuts when the franks are forever.
3. Rob Deer?
90% of the menus in Cape Cod are FISH SANDWICH TOPPED WITH FISH IN FISH SAUCE, so finding a place where I didn't have to eat the shellfish I'm so deathly allergic to and end up looking like Ryan Reynolds in a fat suit for 3 days was difficult. We found a place, though, that did BBQ and had some good looking non-porky things to eat, so we patronized. In the middle of eating my coleslaw I hear this singing coming from a table over, and look up to see this thing:
In the picture it looks like a normal mounted animal head, but it is in fact something much more diabolical: it's a deer head Big Mouth Billy Bass. You remember, the singing plastic fish. Only it's a singing plastic giant deer head. And instead of Billy Bassing it and singing songs appropriate for the animal (like Billy's "Take Me To the River"), the deer just sang contemporary hits, like "Friends in Low Places" and "La Grange." And it sang for seriously 10 or 15 minutes before it shut off. The only thing entertaining about it was watching the kids a few tables over dancing like kids dance in the aisles. If I worked at that eatery I would've ripped that thing down from the wall and hurled it into the ocean.
4. Death by Hypothermia
With Folby and Justin gone, Lindy and I decided to get to the other side of where we were staying and visit the actual ocean, which is different from the bay because the tide doesn't change so dramatically, the floor is rockier instead of sandy, and, oh yes, I forgot, it is FUCKING FREEZING MY BALLS OFF.
My only beach experience as a pale-ass white boy is a week at Myrtle and a year living in South Florida, so when I think "beach" I think "water + sand + heat." The beach had no heat. None. The bay water was a little chilly, but stepping in that day felt like someone had just shoved a penguin's face into my ass. I mean look at this
Keep children in sight at all times if you don't want them to die like Rasputin. So we, having spent 15 dollars on parking, stuck it out and caught some rays with our best buds on the beach. This was pretty fun and we got some beautiful pictures alternately of the scenery and of us acting like goons. I got to read the "BOOK OF LISTS 3" that I found at the beach house, which was printed in the early 80s and is full of stuff like how Rasputin died.
And being that aforementioned pale motherfucker I made sure to use proper sunblocking protection, lest I end up looking like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly afterward. I remembered the tricky spots too, like the front of the neck, the underarms, the leg bendies. The backs of my legs too. Well, the back of one of my legs. Apparently my fingers forgot the one part of my body that on a chilly day wouldn't be covered by shoe, sock, short, shirt, or hat.
AAAAARGH
It's several days later now and I'm still scratching away at my Brother Love leg, all swollen and sore. I guess the baby in the sun overcompensated for my coldness by scalding me, or maybe he was just distracted by the bunnies. Either way, fuck the baby in the sun. yeah i said it
5. Night
If you catch the night over the marsh at just the right time, it looks like a painting.
I loved being at the Cape, and I wish we would've stayed longer, because neither of us knew the Heaven and Hell that awaited us on the long, long, LONG drive home. |
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| 1st Annual Progressive Boink Whiffle Ball Tournament |
[Jul. 1st, 2006|10:41 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | pleased | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Raw Dog - "Suki Yaki Hot Saki Sue" | ] |
Last week/weekend saw the first ever Progressive Boink Staff(ish) Beach Party in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. It was originally going to be everyone on staff, but as things and obligations came up not everyone could make it. Jon couldn't get the time off from work, Emily couldn't get the time off verified soon enough to save up any money, Kyle and Nick are sons of bitches, etc. It ended up being myself, Lindy, Fireball, Folby, Justin, and Fireball's inamorato Karen, and it was amazing.
The most important activity of the weekend was WHIFFLED BALL, the popular childrens' variant on the game of Base Ball which replaces the wooden bat with a thin piece of hard yellow plastic, and the hard cork ball with what is basically a piece of shitty cloth. It's great though because it allows for baseballing on a small scale, such as destroying a local private beach and proving one's dominance over one's friends.
( Read more... ) |
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| Dog Blog, 6-20-06 |
[Jun. 20th, 2006|02:37 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Cleveland, OH | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  confused | ] |
| [ | music |
| | John Lennon - "Working Class Hero" | ] |
One of the most exciting parts about moving to Cleveland was going to be getting my dog back. He couldn't stay with me when I was crashing with my parents because of their apartment regulations and my several decades old cat, so he stayed with a family nearby, as I've written about before. Getting my own apartment again would allow me the luxury of the doggie, which has been a big sore spot in my heart for about eight months now.
I got him, too. All negative six pounds of his little weenie butt in all of his peeing in the house and randomly eating underwear glory. I noticed that he was whining a lot more than normal, but I chalked it up to him having not lived with me for a while. Or the stress of the move. Or being in a strange place. Or whatever.
He loves me. He loves Lindy, too, and follows her around and sleeps on her and stuff. But he nipped at her Mom. He nipped at some neighbors. He started growling and trying to bite people in the hallway in their legs. And I thought, "God, okay, he's just nervous/scared/stressed." He'll grow out of it.
Koji has always loved dogs. There's a puggle named Charlie a few apartments over who is a total sweetheart. Upon meeting him, Koji immediately jumped on the dog's side and started biting him, and clawing at him with both front legs. Charlie recoiled and tried to run away, because he's nice. He's just nervous/scared. He'll grow out of it.
Koji's next pal was an 11 year old poodle named Rusty who might be the nicest, most chill dog I've ever met. Koji tried to bite him in the face.
I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to give him some time and let him get adjusted. I didn't know what they'd done to him if they'd done anything to him at all at the place he stayed. I'd heard stories of him trying to bite some of the little girl's friends, and snapping at her parents when they tried to put him in his cage at night. He's just nervous. Or something. So I gave him another week or so, let him relax.
Lindy and I were watching a movie one night and because Koji had been a good boy all day, she bought him some chew bones. The big white ones that he likes. He sat at my feet during the movie, eating the bone, until he pushed it under the couch. He couldn't get to it, so like I've done a thousand times before, I reached down to pull the bone out for him.
And my sweet little puppy, who slept in my armpit when he was the size of a peach, jumped on my wrist and started trying to bite my finger off.
I can write a million words about how borderline retarded piano virtuoso girls inspire me and how cartoons from Asia make my life worth living, but I can't really put into words what this is all making me feel like. Part of me wants to die. Part of me wants to throw Koji through a window.
Was it something I did? Was it something they did? Did he just go away?
When I picked him up to put him in his cage immediately afterward he was snarling, screaming, trying to bite me again. As I was locking it up, he tried to bite me through the cage. He was just hate. Hate in that little body. In my baby. In my fucking baby.
I took him out back and shot him, like in Old Yeller, and cried into Paw's lap.
Nah. I drove him into West Virginia to meet my parents halfway, who drove him back down to the family who had been watching him. I love him, no matter what he does to me, and I want him to be happy. There he at least has another dog to bite, and other people who won't burst into emotional wreckage when he changes. Or when he just grows up. I don't know.
I really don't know. At least he'll be happy. Maybe he just couldn't forgive me.
Ah man. |
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| Superman is a Super Hero. |
[May. 23rd, 2006|08:17 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  stressed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Amelie Soundtrack - "La Valse D'Amelie (Piano Version)" | ] |
If anybody even reads this journal, here's a sneak preview for tonight's P-Boi update.
Superman is a Super Hero.
Do you realize comic book covers from Superman brand comic books?
by B |
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| Udate Journal |
[May. 14th, 2006|07:46 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | sore | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The Allman Brothers Band - "Whipping Post" | ] |
Live events of the past couple of weeks include:
- Happy birthday 5/14 to Lindy, who turns 23. That makes her only three years younger than me now, and only six years too old for me to try to pick up online. Her custom made mask from Japan is on its way, and I hope it fits.
- Lindy has officially started training to wrestle now, which is unbelievably brave and awesome. It's been a stressful week being her Burgess Meredith, coaching her through the butt-knob bruises and scraped elbows, but it's going to be worth it. When she's curtain-jerking CAPW shows in about six months on the same shows as American Dragon, Samoa Joe, and Christopher Daniels (and Abdullah the Butcher) I'm going to be the happiest, most vicariously fulfilled boy in the world.
- I'm now a published author in a completely new venue: I've started writing newspaper columns! I've had three run so far, the first about Spider-Man villain The Hypno-Hustler, the second about Blossom, and the third about H.E.R.B.I.E. from the Fantastic Four cartoon. It's strange to write for an audience of old ladies and people who would buy Michael Bublé CDs, but it's also a good challenge and a great exercise in restraint. I can't just go WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH HERBIE I MEAN SERIOUSLY, I have to be more graceful. I got my first check for my services in the mail this week, so I'm living large.
- The tenative date for my move to Cleveland is the first week of June. That'll give me enough time to get settled and employed and fed before the Progressive Boink Psycho Beach Party at the end of the month. It is the world's biggest bummer that Emily and Jon can't go, but I get to hang out with FOLBY and Nick and Fireball again, and meet Justin, Bismark, and Karen for the first time. Lots of letter e in a row with an exclamation point.
- BIG BOY PANTS: I am now the proud owner in toe-tal of a 1991 Dodge Spirit!
I will hopefully avoid driving it into a ravine or bottomless pit of some sort before June. It's the first car I've ever had with my name signed on the deed, so I'm dotting it with touch-up paint and praying to Our Lord Jesus Christ that I keep my hands on ten and two and do not die.
I have already named the car KENNY~!
- BLACK FITNESS UPDATE: When I started going to the gym I was 265 pounds, about 30% of that muscle. I got stuck on 257 for a while as I lost fat and gained muscle, but now I'm down to a solid 244 and I'm feeling great. I've got an obviously visable two-ish pack (meaning I've got the ab muscles on top, and I'm working on the ones on the bottom) and my strength and stamina have gone through the roof. I've been biking about 5 miles every trip, playing basketball (which I am terrible at), lifting weights (30 reps of 250 for triceps and a regular 290 bench, woohoo), and swimming like an awkward fish. I don't look very sexy swimming, but I can get from one side of the pool to the other so I just put my mind to it/go for it/break a sweat.
Rock and roll: You ain't seen nothin' yet!
/goes to update Myspace with slightly skinnier pictures |
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| P-Boi Update 4/18 |
[Apr. 18th, 2006|11:39 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | stressed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Rod Stewart - "Young Turks" | ] |
I wasn't planning to post this week, but we had a dropout and I wrote something in an hour and a half, and I'm hoping it's okay. I'd like your thoughts, if you read it.
Jumbo
Still trying to figure it out.
by B |
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bthompsonstroud's journal
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