This is actually the second time I’ve written this post. I had almost finished it when my laptop decided to throw a wobbler. Once it rebooted only a small portion of what I had written had saved. I was CRUSHED. And, oh dear, two recaps to write before the next Raw. Whoops. Time hates me. And huge thanks to the universe for giving me a full-power migraine last night, scuppering my writing plans. I had flickering lights and everything. It was disco-time in my head. Anyway, I am now making a recovery so I’ll make an attempt at recapping Raw (for the second time) and will try to remember all the hilarious jokes I cracked first time around. You can’t just summon up that kind of spontaneity, ya know. I’m an artist.
With Backlash out of the way this week’s Raw and Smackdown were an opportunity to move on, start afresh and introduce old faces to new brands. It really was a week for introductions, and it felt like stepping outside on a beautiful Spring day and filling my lungs with fragrant, clean air. And how often can you really mention the words ‘wrestling’ and ‘fragrant’ in the same sentence?
Raw kicked off with Mouth-Almighty (Vickie Guerrero) in the ring, sporting some new hair extensions. She introduced Randy Orton, who did the robot and made his way to the ring, flanked by Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. Gotta be honest, I thought he milked the entrance a bit, but hey, I’d rather that than Triple H.
Randy swelled his own ego with a rousing speech of hatred. I think maybe the management realised that we’ve become quite fond of Randy in recent weeks and we needed to hate him again. What better way to make someone hate you than batter their self-esteem. Apparently, those of us in our twenties and younger hope for big things, huge success, we have big dreams, but in the end the odds are we will amount to nothing. YYYYYYYAAAAWCH! Randy, why you hurt me like that? What have I done to you? See, now I just wanna prove you wrong. And the outlook is in even bleaker for people in the thirties and older. Chances are they already ARE nothing. But as long as Randy is a success, that’s all that matters, right? Hate him enough now, do ya? Yeah, me too. BOOOOOOO! Mission accomplished, writing team.
Vickie fawned all over Randy like a giddy teenager and went on to announce that the winner of the Big Show/Batista match that night would be number one contender for Randy’s belt at Judgement Day.
We were then reminded that we, fans and fellow supa-stahs, were obliged to respect Mr. Orton’s achievements. But then he was conveniently interrupted by some tick-tocking. M.V.P. When he came out I was thinking ‘meh’. By the time he left, I was a fan. I’m such a sucka. I play right in to Vince’s hands every time. So, a challenger for Randy Orton. Cool. DiBiase stepped up and encouraged Montel to leave while he had the chance. And his response…. “Break yo-self, lackie, Randy didn’t give you permission to speak. So I ain’t going nowhere. Dig this Randy, I don’t have a couple of Abercrombie and Fitch models to do my talking for me. “ YEEEEEEAH! Sorry, but you know I couldn’t resist this.
M.V.P offered himself up on a plate to Randy, Cody whined, Randy whispered sweet nothings in Vickie’s ear, she confirmed that Randy and Montel would get it on on Raw that night….and no, Vickie still can’t pronounce Orton. Enunciate, baby.
First match of the night was Brian Kendrick vs Kofi Kingston. That’s right, I left out the ‘THE’, what are YOU gonna do about it, doll-face-ache? Pretty decent match. I like Kingston. I’m looking forward to a couple of years from now when he will be main-eventing. Yes, King, it is exciting to watch Kofi Kingston. He pinned Kendrick FTW. After a recap of John Cena’s dive in to a 7000w searchlight (oh, that’s what it was), we take a trip backstage with Vickie and Big Show. Don’t pretend you didn’t say EEEWWWWW! in your head.
It may very well get awful lonely on Monday nights, but I’d rather be lonely every night than, ya know. Good call, Vickie. Professional was definitely the way to go.
From the slightly ridicuous to the absolutely abominable. SantinA Marella, Kelly-Kelly, Brie Bella and Mickie James Vs Beth Phoenix, Rosa Mendes, Jillian and Maryse. You know what? At some point, when I have a little more time, I’m going to break the habit of a lifetime and do a serious post about the women of the WWE. And unlike the ladies, it won’t be pretty. It’s getting to the stage where I almost can’t stand it any more. The whole ‘match’ was gross. This pretty much sums it up. Bleurgh!
And just to make up a hatrick of silliness, Matt Hardy solemnly walked to the ring, cradling his broken hand and branding his brother a barbarian. Ooh so many B’s. Apparently he ‘suffered a brutal break to his second metacarpal’. Mmmm, medical terminology. Yum. I loves me some doctor speak. According to my deductions (meaning I asked my Dad) you would not be wrapped in a large arm cast for a broken metacarpal unless the fracture had travelled down the finger in to the hand. He certainly wouldn’t be able to wiggle his digits so freely. Trust me, I know. I broke my fingers during a particularly….err…passionate game of netball in high school. But whatever. I just remembered none of this is real anyway.
Goldust appeared, looking more and more like his father every day, to fight a one-handed Matt Hardy under duress. Check out those golden jowls. Matt, somehow, pinned Goldust and left the ring pulling ‘Oww, it hurts’ faces.
Time for a real match. Randy Orton and M.V.P. This turned out to be a great match. No, really. Their styles seemed to compliment each other and I was really getting in to the actual wrestling. Cheering, gasping, punching my fist for M.V.P. But then just as I was starting to enjoy the end of the Orton/McMahon debacle, this happened (skip to 1m 55s)……
Bloody hell! Why d’you have to go and spoil it? UUUUUURRRGH! Shane, get back to boardroom and do what you’re paid to do. The party’s over. Let the talent do the wrestling. I beg of you. You can stop impressing your Dad now.
Next up, The Miz. Google his name and he’ll have more hits than any one of us. Oh, and apparently Lauren Conrad, Paris Hilton and The Duff Sisters are in his phone and don’t know who the hell I am. I’m DEVASTATED. It’s my life’s ambition to receive a text message from Paris telling me that something is HAAAAT. Errrrrm, no. God, I know this guy is SUPPOSED to be annoying. I know he’s MEANT to make me wanna flip him the bird, but damn, it worked.
All up in my face, challenging John Cena after he’s been thrown through glass and belittling his movies. Yawch. Ok, maybe he can have that one. But still, URGH! And where do you get off picking on Lillian Garcia? She sings the national anthem and announces everyone’s stats. WTF did she do to you, jackass? I SO want Lillian’s job, by the way. Although, I doubt I’d be able to keep my cool announcing certain people to ring.
Thankfully, this irritating segment was followed by a flick through the photo album from the recent WWE tour of Europe. It’s highly probable that I squealed a high pitched WHEEEEEEE when this came on the screen.
Ha. That’s where I’m from. And they were in my town. Yey. And they’ve actually got my town’s name on Raw. Ha. Wait. That’s John Cena in one of those pictures. I didn’t know he was in town. I thought it was just the mid-carders. Shit. I missed John. Well now I’m just depressed. Thanks, Raw. Thanks a lot. Just give me another match to cheer me up. Oh, Tag-Team stuff. I’m feeling too blue to talk about that, so just know that Carlito and Primo beat Jamie Noble and Chavo when Carlito pinned Noble.
I need something to make me smile again. Ah-ha, here we go. Dave Batista about to cry. Result! Little Josh Matthews went up to big Dave Batista and asked him if he felt responsible for Triple H’s loss at Backlash. Brave, Matthews. Very brave. I like your moxy. Dave did a weepy piece to camera about how he felt Hunter’s pain and would hurt Randy Orton on his behalf. Ok, I’m back. Me smiley again.
But then Vickie Guerrero made a meal of announcing that next week’s Raw would include a match between Shane McMahon and Randy Orton. Excuse me while I choke on my own metacarpals. Something NOT to look forward to. That news almost spoilt Dave’s match with Big Show completely for me. If it wasn’t for the fact that Dave’s trunks started riding up fairly early on and he didn’t feel inclined to re-position them, I would have turned off early.
By the way, David, I TOTALLY blame you for Ricky Hatton’s loss against Manny Pacquiao last night. I fully believe that if you hadn’t escorted Manny to the ring and worked some kind of voodoo on my Ricky, he definitely would have won.
In a pleasurable twist, John Cena (remarkably uncut by all that glass) stumbled his way to the ramp, distracted Big Show, costing him not only the match, but also the opportunity to fight for some bling at Judgement Day. Oh John, I can always rely on you to be my hero and cheer me up the end of a bad day. Well, he DOES love me. He said so publicly last week on Superstars. Ah, I feel better now. Time to go recap some Smackdown.