Before I get started…
It seems like I write this paragraph a lot. The, “Okay, so this is where I’ve been during my hiatus” paragraph. I talk about what I’ve been up to, what kind of real life stuff has been whoopin’ my ass, and a promise to never leave you guys again.
Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not gonna write that one this time.
Fact is, I don’t know if this will be the first, or the only in this latest resurgence. I just know that it’s been far too long, and I miss the outlet. I miss being creative. I miss having an audience (hush, I’m a Leo). I miss reading comments. I miss the flutter of excitement I get when I see the link for this on Twitter, or Facebook. “Oh my gosh! That’s ME!!”
That feeling never gets old.
So here we are again. Older. Wiser. Some of us have had a great time since I last checked in. Some of us have had a miserable time. Some of us have just kind of maintained the status quo. All are well and good. The pertinent fact is that we are all still here, the lucky ones of us.
Anyway, if you must know, I’m doing better. Got over a break-up. My father beat cancer. The job I started in 12/2010 is going very well. F.R.E.D. is still good. I still like boobs. I’ve traded my crush on Lacey Von Erich for a torrid love affair with Alison Brie, aka “Annie Edison” from my newest obsession, Community.
But again–I’m here. You’re here. We’re all here. Let’s get on with it.
Suspension Of Disbelief begins… Now!
There are lots of little things I enjoy about the two major companies what produce Pro Wrestling Programming. There are lots of little things that drive me absolutely box-of-frogs bonkers about the two major companies what produce Pro Wrestling Programming. For those glass-half-empty folks, here is the latter:
1- Eric Bischoff and his son feuding. Snoozeville.
2- The perpetual state of ass whooping John Morrison is receiving. Remember his awesome showing from the Royal Rumble skraight through WrestleMania? Those days are gone. #NSync
3- C.M. Punk since a week or two after SummerSlam. Nice one, WWE. You almost had a cross-over superstar and a wrestling resurgence. Now you have another top guy who will sell merchandise to people who would’ve already bought a t-shirt and no audience growth.
4- Anything Karen Jarrett does ever.
Alright Alright Alright Alright Alright Alright Alright Alright. Hey Ladies! (Yeah?) What’s cooler than being cool? (Focusing on the positive!) I said WHAT’S COOLER THAN BEING COOL? (FOCUSING ON THE POSITIVE!)
So let’s do that. Here’s the list of things I am really enjoying about rasslin’ nowadays:
1- James Storm, TNA World Heavyweight Champion. I was genuinely happy for dude. Charismatic, talented, over, and “Sorry about your damn luck” is an all-time great catchphrase.
2- Zack Ryder, Internet Champion. So happy for dude forcing people to notice him. Plus, he’s a Long Island guy, so here’s to hoping I’ll convince him to come to the Candlelight Diner in Commack to hang out one day he’s lonely and pining over Princess Leia at home (pause).
3- A.J. Styles. Goodness. He’s so effing impressive it’s ridiculous.
4- Mark Henry, World Heavyweight Champion. Someone was listening to Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, because The Artist Formerly Known As Mizark is a motherfucking monster. I’ve loved every second of his run, and while I’m not enthused about his feud with The Big Show, he’s redeemed his entire career and routinely impresses me.
5- Hulk Hogan, reformed bad guy. I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Hulk Hogan, whose crimes include *gasp* GETTING HIS FRIENDS JOBS! and *gasp* BURYING GUYS IN RADIO INTERVIEWS! but I have been a Hulkamaniac since I was 6 years old and I shan’t stop being a Hulkamaniac now because dude has an ego and looks out for his friends. Allllll of us would do the same, and denying it would be daft. Anyway, I love rooting for The Hulkster and I’m sure a lot of you guys do too. Smart move by TNA, as Immortal was starting to look like the toy section from Brent City, with a lot of Officially Licensed toys and accessories no one was asking for. I’m talking “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” weapons kits, “Batman” color forms, “Transformers” carrying cases and the like. When Jeff Hardy was part of it, it was neat, but now it’s just filled with cast-offs and people trying too hard.
6- C.M. Punk’s Summer. Yep, the ol’ “Guy Who Ends Up On Both Lists” gimmick. Look, I know we’re all disappointed that punk didn’t become the new Stone Cold, but we’ll always have Summer 2011. They can’t take that from us. I’ve been a Knicks fan since 1992, and they finally have a team that can compete for the first time since 2001. FINALLY. That’s like 10 years of not even mediocrity, but rather awful, uninspired, insulting play. Wrestling might make us mad, but several times a year we get moments that make us “mark out” (a phrase I detest, but hooray for pandering!) and come alive with excitement. SEVERAL. TIMES. A YEAR. This is why wrestling will always be more fulfilling and satisfying than sports. Imagine if the InVasion angle lasted TEN YEARS. That’s what I went through with the Knicks. WWE (as Abe “Knuckleball” Schwartz can attest to) doesn’t go on strike or get locked out, so even if Summer of Punk 2011 didn’t take you where you wanted to go, at least they didn’t shut down and can still provide you with exciting moments.
7- I shaved my chest today. Not sure why. (okay, that had nothing to do with wrestling, but I did, and I was compelled to share)
8- Eric Young, TNA TV Champion. He’s so entertaining it’s ridiculous. His fight with Scott Baio on the golf course was funnier than 90% of anything I’ve seen on Raw, Smackdown, or Impact.
9- The Awesome Truth. Sure, the exile and return of The Miz and R-Truth was resolved quicker than it takes the cool black dude at Chipotle to make my double steak burrito, but I love those two. R-Truth has been a revelation, and if you don’t chuckle at, “Boat? I ain’t got a boat! Lil’ Jimmy got a boat!” then I suggest you hook your nipples up to a car battery and crank up the juice because you need the jolt.
10- I got to take a picture with Kelly Kelly at Comic Con back in July.
It. Was. Awesome. Hot in person, if a bit skinny, so super nice. She wasn’t signing or interviewing, just walking around and she stopped to take a photo and was so gracious about it. Guys, I don’t give two flaming poops who she might or might not’ve hooked up with in WWE. The double standard (guys = studs, girls = sluts) is the main reason aliens won’t land during a time out in the SuperBowl. They know we’re dicks about stuff like that, and are probably sharing the secrets to peaceful eternal life with some other Earth-like planet whose genders don’t base a person’s worth on how many partners they’ve had. “___ is a whore” jokes are the lowest form of comedy–I don’t care who makes them. (also on the “Lowest Form Of Comedy” list: Non-Weird Al musical parodies, and anyone who utters, “That’s what she said” and isn’t providing clarification regarding a misheard statement from a female).
11- Jeff Hardy and his 56th second chance. I’m a bleeding heart liberal. I believe in helping people who need help, whether it’s the 1st time or the billionth. Sure, I might get tired of helping someone eventually, but that’s because it’s taking a deep toll on me that will cause me harm. I might be tapped out, but you better believe I’ll give them another option, another avenue. If someone needs help, you effing help them. If they need another chance, you give them another chance. I have wanted the same. I have received the same.
12- Finally… The Rock… HAS COME BACK… To WWE! I can’t explain what happened on that night back in February. I can’t explain why I felt the incredible rush I felt when his music hit and the people chanted his name and he re-entered our lives. I just know that I identified with his speech. When he said, “For seven long years…”, my heart broke and reformed. You see, for seven years, from February 2004 thru February 2011, I had been homeless, depressed, unemployed, told I was the father of a child that, as it turned out, was conceived a month before I had become intimate with the woman, I had friends turn their backs on me, my baby brother moved to California, I was lied to, lead on, forgotten about, and tossed around like John Cena’s t-shirt back at One Night Stand 2006. I had been to hell and back again, and things went from bad to worse to, “Oh dear please God let this end one way or the other.”
So when The Rock said, “It’s been seven long years…” I couldn’t help but think of that time and how many thick, ugly scars I have acquired since then. I couldn’t help but think of that time, and then a funny thing happened: I thought to myself, “This is a sign. This time of suffering is over. “And ya know what? It wasn’t. Yep, more fucked up stuff happened. More disappointments, more setbacks, but even though my time wasn’t, I knew that something special started that night. I knew that I wasn’t going to be a loser for much longer because I had joined a new team.
I had joined Team Bring It.
I don’t care if Team Bring It is a marketing ploy, a haven for “marks,” a nonsensical hashtag, or just a slogan that got picked over “Pie Devourers Local 645″ or “Electrifyers, Inc.” When The Rock started tweeting about Team Bring It, and tweeting inspirational things about hard ass work and training and pursuing dreams, I identified with it. I embraced it. For 7 years I had conversations with wrestling fans about how great it’d be if The Rock came back, never really believing he could, but hoping he would.
For seven long years I had conversations with friends waxing philosophical about The Good Old Days that saw me happier, that saw me with a girlfriend who cared about me, that saw my brother home, and my father a bit less tired. I thought to myself how amazing it would be to get all the way back from that, never really believing I could, but hoping I would.
Well, we are in the closing months of a year that saw bad things happen, but I feel better than I have all year. I’m back at the gym, hashtagging “#TeamBringIt” on pictures of my elliptical numbers. I’m wearing my “I Bring It” shirt on nights I want to feel strong. I feel like anything is possible, and that the promise of that February night where The Rock came back is *finally* coming true.
So the twelfth and final entry is in honor of The Rock, the guy who came back and brought my Hope back with him. The guy who tweets things that help me pick my head up and keep working hard. The guy who keeps me going at the gym and has me excited about Raw on 11/14 and Survivor Series on 11/20. The guy whose #TeamBringIt hashtag has inspired and motivated me to create a hashtag of my own, one that I use on Facebook and Twitter every nite–when I send out my last thoughts for the day, the last thing I want to focus on before sleep takes me.
This has been Suspension of Disbelief.