Posts Tagged ‘wrestling’

Vlogs

Posted: September 22, 2013 in Uncategorized
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A vlog is a video blog. So basically it’s a short movie nobody cares about. The only successful ones are the ones featuring an attractive girl who looks underage. I am not this. Instead of trying hard to make an interesting video, I have made this about a boring life event that happened to me recently. It was a lazy thing to do and I have felt very lazy lately.

Yesterday I went to Wrestlemania. This is the Super Bowl of professional wrestling. It’s time when the casual fan pays attention. It’s when a match can go mainstream and stars come out to participate in the festivities. This particular Wrestlemania took place in Northern New Jersey which doesn’t sound too cool so they pretended it also took place in New York. I’m not going to review the show or anything because you don’t care and it would mean nothing to you anyway. The only thing I will say directly about the show is how after watching 4 hours of men wrestling in their underwear, the last thing I want to see to end it are two men who have been feuding for two years hugging each other and showing “sportsmanship.” An hour earlier a dead man told a straightedge guy that he was going to kill him after the straightedge guy stole the dead man’s father’s ashes. Sportsmanship is not necessary when everybody knows it’s fake.

Here is the list of notable things that happened:

1) I had to take three trains to get there. All of the trains were the next stop. In an attempt to save a few bucks I figured I could hide on the train from the professional hole punchers they have going around. One caught me trying to hide and I lied poorly to him about how I was looking for friends. I told him I’d be honest and just pay for a ticket. I didn’t have enough cash on me and he was very nasty about it. I hope he loses his job. I’ve paid way too much money into the NJTransit system for their slow moving trains to take me places. I deserve a free ride by now.

2) The next train had a similar bad situation. I somehow accidentally bought a child ticket. The conductor on this train started yelling at me in a lisp that I had a half-price ticket. I literally had no cash on me. He said “I should have known better” and I’m not sure what he meant by that. He should have known better than to what? Take a career that involves getting to dress very nicely and roll your eyes at people? At least he has to live with a lisp.

(Maybe the conductor was doing his best Dusty Rhodes impression)

3) I waited outside the arena for my friend to arrive who was driving up. He too had some trouble getting there. He hit traffic early then when things opened up, he high-tailed it. A cop caught up to him and he was pulled over for speeding. He’s related to the only cop that’s not crooked in the state, Sheriff Frank Serpico, and one flash of his PBA card got him down from attempted manslaughter to jaywalking.

4) While waiting outside I got to check out the fans. Of course checking out wrestling fans isn’t the most boner-inducing thing to do. I think I saw more men in drag than attractive women. I’m not even sure if the men were in drag or were dressed as wrestlers from the 1980s. Let’s say they were in drag.

rockers

(The woman on the right went on to become one of the most popular wrestlers of the 1990s, the Heart Break Kid Shawn Michaels. Back then he only broke hearts because people thought he was a woman at first)

5) I saw only one person I knew there randomly. He has a big head so he was not hard to miss. He didn’t see me thankfully. I hate having to pretend to enjoy other people’s existence.

6) At first we sat in the wrong seats because this stadium was poorly designed and the usher gave us the directions “down that way!” We figures it out though and our actual seats were a lot better except for an annoying blue light that bothered 1/4th of the crowd there. If I do say so myself though, the blue light may have been more entertaining than the Brock Lesnar/HHH match.

7) Somehow I managed to sit next to an attractive female. What are the chances? My friend sat next to a skinny guy with a lovely Indian girlfriend. In our wrong seats there was no one next to me at first and he had a big fat guy. Karma was turning around in our favor.

8) I took a piss break when P Diddy was supposed to come back and again when I thought a match that never happened was. I made it back swiftly for the important stuff. I didn’t miss more than 10 seconds of P Diddy singing a song I had never heard.

p-diddy

(P Diddy asking someone whether or not he should take off his sunglasses while standing in front of a wall with mushroom heads on it)

9) At one point an announcer said there were a lot of celebrities in attendance. They showed Snooki twice and she was booed twice. She pulled a marine closer and we still booed. Then she pointed at a child and we booed even louder. The only other celebrity they showed was Michael Strahan. He used to be a tough gap tooth football player and now he works with Kelly Ripa. He got no reaction.

10) During the main event, The Rock vs. John Cena, a British guy sitting behind us who had come to America just to see this event began convulsing. A black guy started calling for security and it turns out he had a seizure. He finally came out of it and as a true wrestling fan, he took out his camera and continued taking pictures of the show. Just what he needs, another flash. I noticed a fat guy in a Mets jersey standing up when the seizure had finished. He said, “I’m an epileptic, I know what to do.” Then he stood there not doing anything or offering any advice. I’m guessing he was having a seizure when he picked his favorite baseball team.

11) On my way home I had to stand in a giant caged in area around other people taking the train back. As it would be, I did not need a ticket on the way back. Then at the next station no one ever took my ticket, but I did need one to get through some machine. I also asked a pretty girl giving people directions for directions even though I knew where to go. I was hoping talking to me would make her really happy. She seemed as interested in me as she did the results of the wrestling show.

12) Oh I forgot to mention when I was waiting for my friend my phone got absolutely no service at all which was hazardous because we had no other way of finding each other. I also couldn’t get online or anything at all. Eventually T-Mobile get their heads out of their asses and a satellite passed by allowing me to communicate with my cell phone in a highly populated area of the world. We were so eager to get inside and not miss anything. Then we looked at the countdown clock with a big fat “40 Minutes To Go.”

Although the event went downhill after the dead guy beat the guy who doesn’t drink or do drugs, it was still a memorable experience that I will never forget until I am nearing death and call my grandson by the wrong name.

wrestlemania 29

 

(Image taken from the seats that turned out to not be ours)

Parts of this piece may come off a little crazy but I assure you it’s complete fact. For a time I was not very charismatic. I didn’t understand how to express emotions or let out any positive energy. Then a funny thing happened. I realized I had to find my inner personality by taking social cues from others. Unfortunately most people I know are blend and not anything like the person I’d like to be. So, I turned to a few fictionalized characters to figure myself out. Whenever I feel inadequate socially I pretend to be the following people:

The Joker

the joker

One of the most memorable film characters from a Christian Bale movie that came out in the last 10 years featuring Gary Oldman as someone with the last name Gordon, The Joker was the main character I ever tried to behave like. I never did bad things or was nearly as sinister him. I simply studied his mannerisms in hopes I could use them in my everyday life to make me appear more charming/give me a better chance at winning an acting award.

The important thing The Joker taught me was the ability to raise and lower your voice to show emphasis. The Joker is probably bipolar or has split personality disorder which is why he’s constantly changing. I like to tell myself it makes me the Pixies of verbalizing in which I can be really soft one moment and really loud the next. I swear it’s not as strange as it sounds.

I told someone who knows me well how I used The Joker to help develop a more charismatic personality. Her response was “Now that you mention it, that makes so much sense.”

Bane

tom-hardy-bane-dark-knight-rises-02

I swear I’m not a big comic book geek. I’m not really all too nerdy in general. I haven’t seen one of the original Star Wars movies since DVDs were invented. Nerd references are just easy to make. More people will know who Han Solo is than will ever know Cy Young, the most winning pitcher in baseball history. It’s important to be relatable and that’s something Bane taught me.

I become Bane whenever I feel like I need to appear tough or just correct my posture. Man that guy has some nice posture. Of course I look nothing like Bane and it’s really all in my head as is the case with anything else. So long as I feel like I’m an unstoppable tough guy, pretending like I am Bane will boost my confidence. The most important thing is I don’t begin talking like him because people may think I am disabled.

I never told anyone about this before but the fact I asked for a Bane mask for my birthday last year makes it a little obvious.

Chris Jericho/CM Punk

JerichoPunk_original_crop_650x440

As if pretending to be fake Batman villains wasn’t nerdy and embarrassing enough, now I’m going to tell you how I take social cues from professional wrestlers. CM Punk and Chris Jericho are essentially the same characters. They’re cocky, arrogant, and another synonym that means cocky and arrogant. I would never use those words to describe my own personality however adding a little bit of balls to who I am is a good thing.

The most valuable things I learned from these two gentlemen was how to stand with confidence in front of others while all eyes are on you. Calmly they can remain poised and expel their rhetoric to thousands of angry wrestling fans. Wrestling fans of course are only one step above NASCAR fans because the WWE fans also enjoy theatrics which takes some brain power.

I don’t think anyone knows I ever tried behaving like wrestlers but really is it that strange? They are after all at least digging into their own personalities somewhat. Even if their real names are Phil Brooks and Christopher Irvine and they only play characters on television, they are still people I can learn something from.

Have you ever used a movie or TV character to help you fix a personality flaw? Say yes. I don’t want to feel weird.

We all know the stereotype of the high school jock who continues living his glory days long after graduating. He still has his varsity jacket, talks about “the big game” all the time, and he’s gotten fat and gained a drinking problem. I used to think these people were nerdy screenwriters trying to get vengeance on the jocks who they wish they were in high school but I know for a fact people like this really do exist. Like aliens, people obsessed with their glory days are out there.

(An X-Files poster. And as my friend Rob always points out, how do they not believe in aliens when in the pilot episode they nearly get abducted?)

The person I will talk about here is someone I guess you could say I was “close” to. By close I mean one time he tried wrestling me. He climbed onto my back and to get him off I comically kept ramming him into the wall because I fight dirty. This man was a guy my mom dated. He was a guy whose glory days were far away into the past.

The first sign that my mom’s relationship with this man would be a mess was the fact they met at an AA meeting. A more loving couple could meet while executing a terrorist attack than at an AA meeting. The guy didn’t drive anymore because of all the DUIs he had. He owned a gigantic truck for work which was incredibly obnoxious. The only good thing was I could see it from 5 miles away and I’d know I should hide somewhere else until he left.

My mom first introduced me to him on an August evening. I hope if I’m ever divorced and have to introduce new girlfriends or boyfriends (you never know, I could become infected with the gay bug) to my children I do it differently. Everyone I know, whenever they start dating someone new, forces the person down my throat. Suddenly they’re no longer who they used to be. Now they’re one entity and I cannot talk to one without the other there to chime in. The guy seemed fine at first. My mom told me he played hockey for the Montreal Canadians at one point but for some reason this was never brought up and I could find nothing on the Internet about it. I asked him about this and he said he never ice skated in his life. Either my mom misheard him or he was the worst player ever and all history of him in the NHL has been erased.

(The worst wrestling gimmick ever, The Goon. I think my 4th grade class photo had the same background)

The guy’s main story he would always tell was about how he was a high school wrestler. Who am I kidding, this was his only story. He never even talked about any legendary matches. All he talked about was trying to sweat off pounds and ringworm. He still did have his varsity jacket too which is such a jerk thing. He’d try on numerous occasions to get me to be more physically active. He even bought me a silver insolated suit that could help me sweat extra to drop some weight. I think my biggest mistake was actually using and enjoying this gift. Scratch that. My biggest mistake was wearing the pants to the gym once.

(I see they’re called sauna suits. Screw getting your wife a trip to the spa. Buy her one of these and put cucumbers over her eyes and it’s the same basic concept)

Despite both were in AA, their drinking problems persisted. I’m not sure who the troublemaker was between the two, but if you put two addicts together one will probably break down and take the other with them. My mom’s boyfriend always insisted he would one day take us to his cabin in Quebec. The guy lived with his mother (I don’t live with her, she lies with me!) and still had a Canadian cabin? Why do I have a feeling this cabin was incredibly alone up there and in a town without police?

My mom knew how much we disliked the guy and one time they slept outside in the driveway in his truck rather than come inside because “he didn’t feel welcomed.” What about me who didn’t feel safe with some strange man who wrestles me in the house? I really didn’t hate the guy though. What I hated was invasiveness into my life. Between the ages of 13-18 my house was a revolving door of random people coming and going. I like to describe it as a soap opera cast where instead of killing off characters you’re replaced with new actors to play the same person. My family was clearly broken and having other people from broken homes entering wasn’t doing any good for anyone

My favorite memory of the guy though was when he explained to me what his life’s goal was, to teach retarded people how to play the stock market. Huh? First off if you want to work with retarded people you don’t call them retarded, you call them something nicer like mentally disabled or waterheads. I attempted once to record a conversation with the guy on how he would go about teaching retarded people to play the stock market. It turned into a drunken tirade about high school wrestling and would be pointless in searching for on my old computer. If the current state of the American economy suggests anything maybe it’s that he did achieve his dream. A lot of people who do run Wall Street are pretty retarded so kudos to him for destroying America.

(It’s hard for me to decide who I hate more, the retards pictured here or the entitled dummies outside with all the shiny posters whining about how they can’t afford everything they want)

Over yonder in New Jersey, our license plates have the phrase “The Garden State” on them. That’s what New Jersey is known for most. Gardens. It’s true. If you’ve never been here, you can’t dump a dead body somewhere without stepping on a tomato in a garden. There’s a potted plant in front of my apartment. I don’t know who put it there or why it’s filled with cigarette butts. That’s still a garden though, by our standards. You know that much about New Jersey. What you may not know is that the one thing we have more than gardens are hacks.

Webster defines a hack as someone who lacks talent, originality, and has at one point gone by an alias. Webster of course being my black neighbor Jerry Webster. He so smart! I’m a firm believer that outside of Branson, Missouri no place has more entertainment hacks available to the public. You name it, New Jersey has a worse version.

(This isn’t my neighbor Jerry Webster but I’m racist so all black men look-alike to me)

I’ll start with comedians, something I know all too well. Go to just about any comedy club in New Jersey’s website and look at the upcoming schedule. If you recognize someone’s name you’re a pretty big comedy fan. We have guys with names like Bob-O, Spitzy, and Richard “The Human Pretzel” Ramirez. At least two of them use a dummy or a strange instrument in their act which drives the crowd wild. These are the stereotypes of hacks in the comedy world. They do goofy voices, invite audience members on stage, and have headshots older than I am. Yeah, they were on HBO. That was 1991 and it was as an extra on an episode of Tales from the Crypt. I don’t have a problem with exaggerating your credits. It’s hard to convince people to see a comedy show when they could do more fine things like go to a poetry open mic or circumcise themselves. I’m mostly annoyed that no matter what comedy club I look at I see the same damn names over and over again. New Jersey, if you haven’t made it here, try another 15 years. Bookers don’t have time to look at anything new. They go with what’s familiar to them.

(These guys do a great bit about Roosevelt’s “New Deal”)

Professional wrestling is pretty big here. The film The Wrestler actually took place here. It’s a pretty realistic story. You can’t go to a VFW without seeing a poster for an upcoming wrestling show. Why do I go to VFWs you ask? To shout “Baby killers!” at everyone inside. Thing is, these wrestling organizations involve everyone on their way up and then on their way down again. You can see the evil German Jack Fritzenstein take on someone like Jimmy Snuka on any given night. Of course Jack is going to lose. His real name is Ted Hall and he lives in East Orange. He’s just a kid trying to make it in the competitive world of gay sports theater, wrestling. I’m not sure who actually goes to these shows. Probably drunks and weekend dads lying to their sons saying that they’re watching the stars of tomorrow, today!

(If you turn your head quickly and are color blind you might think The Rock is the guy in the upper right hand corner. Thankfully we know better)

The biggest city of hacks is also located in New Jersey. It’s called Atlantic City. Sure, there are some big acts that play there once in a while. But for the most part, you’re stuck seeing people who couldn’t make it in Las Vegas. I’ve been to AC twice. It wasn’t as crummy as everyone made it out to be. Yeah the beaches looked gross and the only person performing whose name I recognized was Liza Minnelli (oh joy!) but it still had some charm. It has a boardwalk where Asian women yell out at you demanding they give you a massage. The security isn’t even all that tight. I could have easily walked into a “member’s only” swimming pool. But why would I do that? I’m too much of a pussy to screw around with anyone’s business.

(All of Cindy’s fans friends showed up to show her some support as she watched her hopes and dreams slip away)

I’ve only lived in one area of the world so I don’t know what it’s like where you live. Are you too surrounded by hacks? I can usually spot them. If you know a musician who sounds quite a bit like someone more famous, they’re a hack. It’s not being a hack being a cover band though. I like to call them rip-off bands because that usually pisses them off. Learn something original asshole. If Lifehouse can play Lifehouse songs, anyone can play Lifehouse songs.

First thing, first. Thanks to everyone who checks my blog. I have already beaten last month’s totals with 11 days to spare. That is, unless you all decide to stop checking it out and one of you reverses time and decides to do something else instead of reading what I have to say. I don’t think any of my reader’s have any special skill set other than the best them they can be. But really, I appreciate you stopping by and taking time out of your probably boring lives. My life is boring too, that’s why I read your blogs. I have authority to make fun of you.

As a tribute to my readers, frequent commenters, the occasional people who stop in to like a post then disappear until they like another post a month later, I will be randomly linking one of your posts into each of my upcoming posts until I get too lazy to do anything else. This is me giving back and to make up for kicking that cancer kid. Just because you’re hairless doesn’t mean I buy your story buddy! When I do post your links, I hope you get many views, new subscribers, and plenty of hot chicks or dudes, depending on your preference, knocking down your door to grab you in sexual ways. I’ll be as subtle as possible with them too. When you see it, imagine me screaming awkwardly at the top of my lungs.

Onto Business:

I have never been in a bar fight. I’ve never really been in a real fight either. Only shoving matches at the most. One time the other kid fell backwards into a bush. That was the Knockout Punch in the fight. Falling into a bush full of berries. I don’t think they were even poison berries. So that’s the story of my biggest fight. A kid falling into a bush full of berries. I need to challenge better people.

The kid in question was named Josh. Josh isn’t that bad of a name. It’s a little bit of a jock name, but I’ve known fat people named Josh too. If I lost my fight to Josh I wouldn’t have been too embarrassed. It’s a fine enough name to get your ass handed to by. With that thought in mind, there are some names that if I ever lost a bar fight to, I would have to cut off my own testicles.

Larry – I would be very embarrassed if someone named Larry ever beat me up. At least Lawrence sounds like a British militant, to me at least. Chipper Jones changed his name from Larry Wayne to Chipper because of how lousy of a name it is. Chipper sounds like the name of a small child with glasses and a unibrow and still that’s better than being called Larry. Most people named Larry also have kazoo voices. The only time kazoo voices are useless are when calling in bomb threats.

Gary – It reminds with Larry and is equally as bad. I’m sure there are some tough guys named Gary out there, but they’re truck drivers. I’ve known one child named Gary and he was one of those ass clowns that everyone hated. He was on my baseball team and everybody hated him. The coaches, the players, the parents, everyone. He was chubby with blonde hair and we rooted for him to fail. His dad also failed me for inspection at the DMV. His father’s name, also Gary. The only way a Gary could ever win a fight is with a sucker punch. Because that’s what they are, people who suck.

Kevin – I don’t know what it is about this name, but nobody really cool ever has it. I’ve known people I liked named Kevin, but it’s certainly not a tough one. The only abbreviation for it is “Kev” and that isn’t even a good nickname. The most famous Kevin is Kevin Bacon. Isn’t that the complete opposite side of names? You go from a wimpy name of Kevin to a manly food like Bacon. That’s still not saying Kevin Bacon is tough or anything. He loves the Arts in Philadelphia and has a scrunched up face. My theory on the scrunched up face, he lost a lot of fights.

Blaise – You may not know that this is a name, but it is. It’s kind of common now too. It’s pronounced like blaze as in anyone with that name is a such a homosexual, that they are no flaming, they are blazing. It’s an awful name and nobody tough ever has it. Johnny Cash had the song “A Boy Named Sue” where the parents name their son Sue to toughen him up. Naming your son Blaise only makes him a coward. Sure, it sounds cool on the surface, being named after something fire does. But if you ever meet someone with this name check out their hair. I guarantee they have a fohawk and a vest, the sure sign of a someone who needs to be punched.

Hunter – I would put this name up there with Blaise. Hunters can be cool, the people who actually hunt and not the people with the name. I remember the first time I found out that Hunter was a name and thinking that the parents were mental. Why not name your kid Poacher? Or Deer Killer? I’ve never met a Hunter in real life that I can remember. And that’s good because once I do meet a Hunter, he won’t be living much longer. Lets see how tough you are without your gun or bright orange vest.

Brent – You could throw Brett in there too with this one. I associate these names with being the outside jock. That little guy that hangs around with all of the football players. He usually has a goofy nose or big ears. They’re always the weakest of the bunch in their group of friends. It’s the poor man’s Brad. Not that Brad is a great name or anything, but if someone with that name knocked out my teeth I wouldn’t be too upset. When a Brent throws a punch it usually lands into their own crotch. It’s a real MIND WARP!!! why anyone would name their kid this.

Unisex Names – There isn’t much to say about this. If your name is Kelly, Stacy, Jesse, or any other traditional girls name, I don’t want to get beaten up by you. It’s embarrassing. I don’t get why parents do give their sons names like this. I mentioned before about Johnny Cash and his song, but you shouldn’t take songs as a basis for what you name your kids. Your kid won’t always live up to their name. If they did then every girl named Roxanne would be a whore and every sweet girl named Caroline would be the most annoying girl at karaoke night.