A Song for Whoever: Edge & Larry Sweeney Edition

BOSS LADY RAY: There isn’t much I can say about Edge and his shock retirement that hasn’t already been said this week. We can’t, however, let it pass without comment. The outpouring of love for Adam Copeland over the past seven days has been astonishing. I’m not for a second suggesting he doesn’t deserve it. Quite the opposite. I just mean it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such universal affection for a single wrestler.

At 3:00am on Tuesday morning, the wind blowing through a forgotten, open window woke me up. I was suddenly struck with insomnia. To entertain myself I opened Twitter to see if anything interesting was happening on Raw. Edge was retiring. I assumed it was a story. There have been so many false goodbyes in the WWE lately and there were no signs of injury at Wrestlemania. But the more my Twitter feed refreshed, the more it became apparent that it was a very real farewell. I resisted the urge to turn on the television. Feeling sleepy again I went back to bed. When my alarm woke me up I returned to Twitter to find it awash with mournful messages tagged with #ThankYouEdge. Clearly I hadn’t just dreamt it.  Before I’d even got up I navigated my way to YouTube on my phone and watched the speech North Americans had been reeling over four hours earlier. I had a little cry.

.....as did he.

One of the things I’ve really been taken aback by this week is just how well respected and very much needed Edge is backstage. Curt Hawkins’ video tribute was especially lovely.

It must be an incredible feeling to make the difficult decision to take your ship to shore for the final time, knowing that not only your audience are going to miss you, but that your peers will miss you even more. The extended send-off WWE sprung on Edge on this week’s Smackdown was even more touching than his big announcement on Raw. And yes, I definitely cried.

The thought that keeps coming back to me is that Edge can’t possibly retire because he’s one of the new guys. But he isn’t. He’s 38 this year. He was already established in The Brood when I started watching some thirteen years ago. He’s one of the most decorated Superstars in the WWE. So why do I keep thinking of him as one of the new guys? I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s because Edge’s retirement feels untimely. We’re not used to wrestlers being given medical advice to quit and actually listening. We’re not accustomed to seeing wrestlers retiring without their bodies and faces looking twenty years older than they really are. Sad as I am to see Edge go, I’m thrilled I won’t be seeing him dragging a broken carcass around the ring ten years from now. I’m happy he gets to go hiking in the mountains with his good lady and a couple of dogs. Live the dream, make your money and get out while you can still enjoy it.

This is the first generation of wrestlers who have the sense and the future prospects to retire when their body tells them to. It’s a relief to me. This is why Hulk Hogan’s comments that there is somehow something weak about retiring before dropping dead in the ring are infuriating. Hogan’s generation haven’t retired because they don’t know what else to do but wrestle. They had no options of second careers so they just kept going. Is this ideal? No. It’s terrible for them and embarrassing to watch. So why on earth would Hogan feel the need to denigrate Edge’s very sensible decision? Maybe envy, but probably just irresponsible stupidity. I could not despise that man more.

This new generation of educated and media savvy performers have something to fall back on at the end of their careers; whether that’s at the end of an illustrious career or one cut short because of injury as Edge’s has been. Once he’s finished being off the radar, I have no doubt he’ll be back in some way, shape or form. I only realised this week that Edge had been part of the creative team during the time he was recovering from the spinal fusion surgery he underwent seven years ago. My guess is that the door is very much open to him whenever he decides to walk back through it again.

Regardless of the fact that professional wrestling results are predetermined, what they do in the ring requires real physical effort. Wrestlers are athletes in every way apart from the fact that they know when they’re winning and when they’re losing. How many professional athletes do you know who continue in their sport beyond maybe their late thirties? A lifetime of athletic exertion takes its toll. In the words of that esteemed philosopher Kenny Rogers “You gotta know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em, know when to walk away, and know when to run.” Edge is declaring himself out and walking away from the table with his body and his dignity fully intact. I couldn’t be prouder. Thank you, Edge. This one’s for you…….

SIDEKICK ANDREW:

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Smackdown(lite): Hamlet, Hair, Hobos and Hugs

Same arena, same crappy set, different day. Yep, Smackdown too was from the London O2 arena this week. Well, why spend 24 hours moving to a new city when you can stay where you are and drink the hotel bar dry. I’m talking to YOU, Miz. Twitter is so much fun.

I think I have an apology to make. I TOTALLY missed the fact that the set had a red phone box on it. I only noticed it when I watched Smackdown. That really tops it off. Because I don’t think those things even exist any more…apart from as novelties. WWE set designers: when you return to these shores in November you must try harder or I’ll pound ya!

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So we begin with Edge. If I hadn’t enjoyed Smackdown so much this week, I’d quite happily have ditched the rest of it and just recapped Edge’s soliloquy. Seriously, it was like an Ontario Theatre Company’s production of Hamlet. It was a thing of beauty. But Smackdown was worthy of a full run-down so this will have to be a long one.

You know, if all this were real, I’d be wrapping a patchwork quilt around Edge, making him some tea, and calling Social Services. In fact, he was so convincingly deranged on SD that I was inches away from being sucked in.  But then I realised that no man who is so up-to-date with his blonde highlights roots could be losing the plot, and I came back down to earth.

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By  the way, if anyone knows what brand of sunnies he’s wearing there, let me know. I WANT! Actually, maybe I’ll just ask him myself on Twitter.

It started well. Edge was calm, collected, cool, cucumber-esque.  But then he started recalling John’s resolve and  began descending in to desperation. He reminded us of the whooping he gave John on Raw and suddenly realised how alone he really is. GOD, I eat this stuff up. The spotlight in the ring, all those long camera shots followed by extreme close-ups. Oooh yeah! He told us once again that he feels worthless without the title, ran his fingers through his beautifully coiffed tresses and…..

“My wife Vickie can’t help…….I have no friends……in your own words John, I’m a desperate man!”

At this point I was so involved I felt like putting my hand on his shoulder and saying I, will be your friend.” Yes, you are correct, I AM a loser.  Nevertheless, he went on to prematurely declare himself the Last Man Standing. Fabulous. (Copeland….let me know who does your highlights too, please.)

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Now that I’m emotionally spent I could do with some light relief. Unfortunately, Todd Grisham’s crack about the Queen’s crib and BBQ ham didn’t satisfy. Must be one of those American jokes I don’t understand. Like Sarah Silverman.

First match of the night is Matt Hardy & Kane Vs Jeff Hardy & CM Yum.  The whole Matt/Jeff ‘I quit’ thing is kind of redundant now, being that we all know Jeff won’t be resigning his current contract. Apparently he’s tired and just wants to do something else for a while.  I kind of admire him for having the courage to do that when he’s so popular at the moment. Ooh, serious mo there. Back to the match. It wasn’t bad actually. Some nice little shimmies. And surprisingly long for a Smackdown match. Matt pinned Jeff FTW.  I notice you’re having some make-up slippage issues there, Jeffrey. Try Revlon Colour-Stay Foundation. It can be a bit cakey if you don’t put it on with a light touch, but it does last. Even on oily skin. And it’s reasonably priced too.

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Big Show/Undertaker was kind of slow and tedious. I felt like I wanted to find their wind-up key and make things go faster. So, to continue the hair and beauty theme (which I swear was totally unplanned) I found myself thinking about how I’d change Undertaker’s fake-tan to a less vibrant shade of tangerine and teach him how to use eyeliner so he doesn’t end up with a harsh line. Smudge, babe. Smudge.

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After a huge punch from the ginormous fist of the Big Show, Undertaker was deemed unfit to continue. Taker stumbled to his feet looking like a wasted hobo, and countered to regain his dignity. Buh-bye Big Show. Enjoy Raw!

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Time for some lady action – Gail Kim v Maryse. I don’t know what it is about Maryse, but I’m not liking her. Something doesn’t sit right with me. And it’s not that “Bitch is more beautiful than me so I hate her guts” stuff either. Todd Grisham dared to say “that this French-Canadian is less popular over here in the United Kingdom than she is in North America.” Ohhh that’s what it is. The British have an involuntary hate of all Frenchness. (Apart from the cheap wine we like to sneak over on the ferry from Callais). And I thought it was just the irritating hair-flicking and the evil-claw-hand. Now I understand. On the flip side, I kind of like Gail Kim. But every time I see her I think of the ‘Cool Asians’ in the cafeteria scene in Mean Girls.  Observe…….

Say what you want about Li-Lo’s debauched lesbian lifestyle, Mean Girls is one of the greatest films ever created. End of. Back to the business of grappling.  Maryse won and flicked her hair so hard she did her back in. Whooda thunk it? Weighty hair weave really is bad for your health.

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Jeff Hardy did a strange, swirly promo for Backlash, which I can only think was shot by some guy thinking “I spent four years at film school to work on this shit, I’m at least gonna be creative and maybe then I’ll get a movie gig.” Yah. Ok. Well….moving on. I can’t be bothered to talk about M.V.P and Chavo…..you just need to know that Montel won the match. Another one disappearing to Raw. His exit from the ring was interrupted by Dolph Ziggler. Umm. WHOOOOO? I’m so not into this guy. Firstly he has the hideous hair of Billy Gunn, then I can’t hear his name without thinking of Dolph Lundgren (remember him in Rocky IV) and apart from that he just seems like a complete tosser. Not a partial tosser, a complete one. I hope he doesn’t get any undeserved pushes. I will be pushing him straight back the way he came.

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We’re not getting the new WWE Superstars show over here yet (correct me if I’m wrong). I downloaded it last week but haven’t bothered yet this week. Thankfully, the John Cena interview from Superstars was repeated on SD. Lovely. But poor John was not feeling himself. He seemed a little blue. Awww. What’s up, sweetheart? He took a microphone, told Grisham he didn’t want to talk to him, looked straight in to the camera and said “For once, I’d like to talk to YOU.” That’s it. I was gone. Whatever words came out of his mouth, in my head, all I heard was this……..

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I gave myself a wrestlegasm with my own thoughts. Errrrrm, yeah. So….back in the realms of reality, the show ended with Shane and Batista Vs Rhodes and DiBiase. Kind of predictable, but fair play to Shane, he had a good go. He looked absolutely knackered by the end of it. Maybe if he wore less clothing he wouldn’t get so warm. Just sayin’. Shane made the pin, by the way. Oh and he even overcame his fear of boy juice and gave Dave a squeeze at the end. Nice.

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FAVOURITE CROWD MEMBER(S) OF THE SHOW

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These three who, despite possessing 0% dancability, rocked it out to M.V.P’s entrance music. You shake those tail feathers, fellas!

Smackdown(Lite) Broken Men

I’ve kind of run out of time this week. The WWE Draft takes place on a special 3-hour Raw tonight and I haven’t even reviewed Friday’s Smackdown yet. Boo-hoo. Don’t question me. I have very valid reasons, ok?

In general, most of the superstars seemed a little worn out. Fair play, they had that long Wrestlemania weekend where they were pretty much on duty 24/7. Then Raw, live, on Monday. Then the taping of ECW and Smackdown on Tuesday. The boyz and girlz iz sleepy. And kind of broken. So, I’ll just pick out the real stand-out moment from Smackdown, Edge, a truly broken man.

When he first appeared, perched on his bar-stool in the middle of the ring, I thought he was going to burst in to song. I was expecting him to  seranade us with One For My Baby, light up a cigarette and slam his empty scotch tumbler on the bar. If, that is, there was an actual bar there.

What he actually told an unsympathetic crowd, was that he hadn’t slept in a week and that he was crushed by the fact that his title had been stolen from him by everyone’s Mr. Wonderful – John Cena.  You know what? Edge doesn’t get enough credit when he pulls this stuff. He’s so good, I don’t think the audience realises just how well he’s acting. Although, I’m pretty sure those bags under his eyes are as genuine as the suitcases under mine.

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As amazing as Edge is at making the crowd hate his guts, John Cena is just as brilliant at getting the crowd to lick his….err….wristbands. Out comes my lovely, smiling, ray of sunshine …..peacocking about with his new bling. OOooOoOorgh! Your lips look gorgeous tonight, John. But, ahem, that has nothing to do with the segment, just an observation.

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Moving on…… things start to get a little dark. Damn, Adam. You’re so good at this. Adam Edge tells John how he has no purpose without his Heavyweight title. How, stealing his golden life preserver has left him adrift and how he brought Cena out to let him know just how broken he was feeling. John and the crowd weren’t buying it and he RSVP’d with a slow, precise, perfectly timed……

“Get over yourself, Edge! You, lost, at Wrestlemania.”

SWOOOOOOOOOOOON! But that was just the beginning.

John dragged his stool in a little closer, after being told that he ruined Edge’s life, and got serious. I LOVE-LOVE-LOVE when John gets really serious. He drops ‘Brand Cena’ and seems like a real person. The meeting of their two opposite characters was, as usual, awesome. Edge, so shaken and desperate, John, so controlled and secure. John gave Edge a speech that left him, well, speechless. And as he went to walk away this beautifully manic piece of psychological tennis ensued:

“I hate you. I HATE YOU! Hate. Hate is a strong word but it sums up everything I feel for you Cena. I hate your hat, I hate your t-shirts, I hate your wristbands, I hate your shoes, I hate your music, I hate the C-Nation, I hate everything that you stand for.”

vlcsnap-7212963-copyCheck out that under-eye luggage.  You need an icy flannel and some rest, darling.

But oh no….fuck yeah…..J-to-tha-C’s about to lose his rag. Time to put a stop to flaky Edge with a big, definite NOOOOOOOOO!”

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The crowd, at this point, are totally sucked in. And so am I. John gets a lot of shit for being Mr. Corporate. Sometimes it is easy to forget he’s where he is because he’s a nice little package of everything. John’s next little ‘moment’ seals the deal for me. Take it away baby………

“You, you may be a better wrestler than me. You may be smarter than me. You may know how to use your opportunities and resources to get you a championship but I look in to your eyes right now I know you’re desperate. You’re grabbing at straws. You’re tired. You’re exhausted. A last man standing match. A LAST MAN STANDING MATCH? Edge, that is a match based on PUNISHMENT. And I can look in your eyes right now and know I’m telling the damn truth when I tell you I’M TOUGHER THAN YOU. That is why IIIIII will be the last man standing, that is WHYYYY YOOOOU. HATE. ME.”

Holy mother of god. I think I’ma gunna faint from over-stimulation. Someone pass me the smelling salts. And an icy flannel of my own. *Southern Belle Accent* I do declare, Mr. Cena, that I am a little overcome with the tumultuous events of the evening. Would you please be a gentleman and escort me back to my chambers, sir? *wink*

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Oh….and just in case you were wondering………………….

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“It’s not the hat….it’s not the wristbands….. it’s not the t-shirt, it’s not the dog-tags, IT’S THE TRUTH! Because you think about all those matches we’ve had, you think about every time we’ve beat the hell out of each other, every time you’ve ran back at hit me with everything you had….and then WATCHED. ME. GET. BACK. UP. You hate me? You hate me so bad and it’s gotta come to an end? You wanna end it, end it RIGHT NOW! COME ON!”

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At this point I passed out from extreme passion OVERLOAD. Luckily, I recorded the show so I was able to watch the rest of it afterwards. After much posturing and shirt removal, a demoralised Edge left the ring without harming a hair on Cena’s head. I went somewhere to catch my breath.

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You know what, I could have just posted a link to this on youtube, but then I wouldn’t be a writer, would I? If you do want to watch it, and I recommend you do, click here for part 1 and then here for part 2.

Enjoy the draft, guys. I’ll catch ya on the flip side. Yo!

RAW(lite) – the wrestling N.Y.D

So, this post is kind of late in the week, but what with the mammoth Wrestlemania post and setting up the new site and, you know, normal life, this is the first chance I’ve had to write it.  The first Raw after Wrestlemania is always a strange affair.  It’s like the WWE New Year’s Day. The day after the biggest party of the year. Some are full of regret about what went down the night before, and others are brimming with excitement about the future.

We begin with Randy Orton. Awwww. His face hurts. Yeah, well, you know what? My brain hurts from that rubbish ending to Wrestlemania. But that’s not your fault, honey.  Christ, I’m calling Randy Orton HONEY now. I’ve changed.

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But let’s move on.    Randy Orton is one of the best heels around. Seriously, he reeks of creepy badness.  I love it…. and a week ago I never would have said that.  Vince came out in a shade of blazer no man should ever wear, shouting the odds in that unhealthy gravel he calls a voice and punching his finger at Orton with such force I’m surprised he couldn’t feel it up there on the ramp.

Orton spouted a tirade of abuse and challenged Mr. M to fight him, alone, on Raw, without Shane or Triple H to prop him up.  NEVER has the word SIR seemed like such an insult. AMAZING! After much lip-trembling and eye-popping we got a big fat “YOU’RE OOOOOON!” Loverly.

One of the things I miss  during PPVs are the backstage conversations that are ‘just for us to see’. That’s the theatrical shit that makes it work for me.  So, back in the office a 60-something multi-millionaire is taking his clothes off to take on a man young enough to be his son. His actual son is none too chuffed at what his old man has set himself up for. Can I just take a moment to say how much I LOOOOVE Shane’s grey temples?  When I first started watching wrestling he was this irritating, uncool kid. Now he’s quite the distinguished gentleman. Me happy girl. Shane couldn’t persuade daddy he was making a bad move…..’cause Vince, just…just….WANTS ‘IM. hehe. A silly scene, but it made me laugh.

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On to the Divas.  Smackdown Vs Raw, to be precise.  With the Draft coming up tomorrow, a big wrestlegasm in itself, it’s important that anyone who might be in the frame for a change of office cubicle gets an airing the week beforehand. Just so you know who they are. They pulled off some pretty nice moves in this match.  And how cool is Mickey James? She’s wicked! I kind of want to BE her. And I kind of have a girl-crush on Kelly-Kelly. But you don’t wanna know about that, do ya? Well, maybe another day.  In the meantime,  enjoy his picture of my heroine. Luv yaaaaaa!

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Shane is still stressing behind the scenes, so he turns to his brother-in-law for assistance. God, I love watching them talk to each other. I know this is ‘for TV’ and they obviously have a lighter convo style in real life, but I like to imagine them talking to each other on Christmas Day like that. By the way, best man-hug-moment I’ve seen in AGES.

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On to the All Star Tag Team Match – Raw Vs Smackdown. Good Lord, I think I might combust. Chris Jericho, John Cena, CM Punk, Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy, Edge, Big Show, Kane, Rey Mysterio and Ricky Steamboat all in one match. Shit. What a combo. My pants thank you.  By the way, I am TOTALLY falling in love with Punk. It’s the Chicago thing, I think. It tipped me over the edge. Also, one of my favourite moments of the night – Rey Mysterio giving his mask fringe to a random kid in the crowd. Awww. Bless. I predict that kid will be on Raw 15 years from now telling the story of how Rey inspired him to be a wrestler. I guarantee it.

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Only the day after Wrestlemania would we see this many main eventers in one match. That doesn’t normally happen. We don’t even see these boys all on one SHOW, let alone in one match. They usually spread the top talent out.  What a TREAT! Every time a new hand slapped that of someone in the ring, I got a lovely little buzz of eeeeeeeeee-xcitement. I gotta say, how freakin’ awesome is Ricky Steamboat? This man is older than my dad! He’s 56 years old, for god’s sake. I agree with the chanting crowd. “You still goooot it!!!!”. And I love how much everyone hates Jericho at the moment. I laughed out loud when Chris came in to do some damage to Steamboat and Michael Cole blasted “Here comes Jericho like a VULTURE! Chris Jericho’s a VULTURE.” But a really hot vulture, yah?

I can’t tell you much more about the match, other than it left me feeling very fulfilled. To be honest, they could have ended Raw right there and I would have given it a glowing report.

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On we go….Triple H, in a battle of the noses,  was unable to persuade daddy-dearest that scrapping with Orton was just silliness, and we were joined in the arena by Vicky Guerrero. I know it’s her job to be annoying, but bloody hell, that voice. Urgh! And the way she pronounces ‘Orton’ winds me up. Vicky, it’s OR-TON. OOOOR-TTTTTON. So, she has opted to be Raw general manager in preparation for next week’s draft. Curious.Veeery curious.  I kind of skipped the Santina thing. I watched it but tried to block it out.  It makes me want to punch my fist through a wall.

In no time at all (wow, that was a quick Raw) we’re at the main event of the evening. Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon against Randy Orton….or Randy Orrrun as Vicky calls him. I wasn’t expecting much of the match.  I figured Legacy would be back on the scene, having been so rudely left out of Wrestlemania. And I supposed that Triple H and Shane would retaliate. But what actually happened was totally unexpected…at least to me. I HATE spoilers with a passion. Maybe others knew it was going to happen, but I like to see things as they play out. Otherwise, where’s the excitement?  Oh, yeah, I haven’t told you what happened. Duh! Ok…….

As predicted, it was a complete mis-match. Shane couldn’t take it any more, flew in to the ring and started pummelling Orton. I love watching Shane fight. He still seems like a little boy to me. Cute little thing that he is. Rhodes and DiBiase joined in to save their leader from a further ShaneOMac-attack, Orton joined in and then The Game put his oar in. Of course. Everything’s going just as I had anticipated. With all the McMahon brood under the cosh, they needed some assistance. But who’s gonna be their hero?

Some VERY loud guitar chords blast in to the arena.  Only regular wrestling viewers will understand this, but you know when someone hasn’t been around for a while….maybe because they’ve been injured…… then they return unexpectedly. The music hits and you know the music, and the cogs in your brain start revolving to figure out who it is. It only takes a second. Maybe two. But I love that moment where you realise who it is. THEY are wrestlegasm moments.

So, who was it………..

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OH MY GOD! It was so amazing.  Even though I’m kind of in Orton’s camp since WM, Dave looked so bloody cool. He picked Legacy off one at a time and got all three to scamper off up the ramp. I repeat, SO. BLOODY. COOL. And a TOTAL wrestlegasm moment. Seeing him with his old pal and Shane up there in the ring made my week.

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But the best moment of all was when Vince, lying outside the ring in his black smock, said……………………………………………

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Randy Orton was beside himself. Devastated. So now we have a brand new feud on the go. Just like that. That’s why I love this nonsense.

FAVOURITE CROWD MEMBER OF THE SHOW

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This lady, who seemed absolutely MORTIFIED that Primo and Carlito had taken the Tag-Team belts. I cannot imagine how involved she got with the more interesting stuff. Now THAT’S DEDICATION!

FINAL THOUGHTS

I am super-excited about tomorrow’s draft. I loooooove the draft. A spot of Spring cleaning is always refreshing. And a few surprises are always very welcome.

I’ll do a quick Smackdown recap tomorrow morning (BST) to bring everything nicely up to do date. This long Easter weekend is proving to be very handy.

BLEARY EYED AND SATISFIED: DIARY OF A WRESTLEMANIA HANGOVER

[This post was originally posted on http://buymyown.wordpress.com and has been imported in to wrestlegasm.com by the author]

Ahhh Wrestlemania.  The highlight of the wrestling calendar. Trying to strike the balance between expectation and delivery is like walking a 50ft tightrope. It could swing either way with the tiniest slip of the heel. But from tightropes and heels to turnbuckles and, well, heels. But I’m not talking about the round bit at the back of your foot this time.  The hype surrounding the Triple H v Randy Orton match had reached fever pitch and promised to be the explosive culmination of not only their saga, but also the entire WM25 weekend. Did it deliver all that was expected? Well, you’ll just have to read on won’t you.

Sunday. Wrestlemania day. AAAAAAAAAARGH! The excitement was beginning to build and I set about baking my WM25 cupcakes. Yep. That’s right. I baked Wrestlemania cupcakes and spent almost the entire afternoon icing them in a suitable fashion. Ah what fun. Whaddaya think? Want one? Just don’t take the John Cena ones. I want to eat John all by myself. Aight? 😉

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Before anyone emails or comments to let me know that Hulk Hogan has nothing to do with this year’s event…. yes, I AM aware.  But my buddy Emma Monkey has love for just one wrestler. Hogan. Don’t even ask. I had to make her a Hogan cupcake or she would have beaten me up. Also take note of my Ric Flair WOOOOO! cake. I added some icing tears for him. Doesn’t Flair always look like he’s just finished watching The Notebook or something?

Anyway, let’s crack on. I took a one hour nap to get me through the long night ahead. I dragged myself toward the TV  in my new PJs  just as it was starting. Oooh the excitement.  WHOA! All those people. All those fireworks. All those MILLIONS of dollars in Vince McMahon’s bank account.

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Speaking of money in the bank (b0om-boom)……

The MITB match was brill. I was convinced that Kofi Kingston would win.  At some point, if he doesn’t eff his chance up, he will get a big push, you mark my words.  I love ladder matches.  They’ve got that sinister “anyone could break a bone at any moment” allure. My brother, who only watches wrestling sporadically these days, called it that CM Punk would do the double.  Good for him. Punk, not my flukey brother. Punk has potential as a  future crush if any of the others bid the ring farewell. And I do have a thing for boys from his part of the world.

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Time for a musical interlude. Kid Rock. Kid Rock? Really? Well. Ok, then. I don’t really get the choice of crooner and I’m not a fan, but whatever. It’s the early hours of Monday morning and I’ll take anything I can get to keep me awake.  What the hell was wrong with that crowd? Did I miss something? They reacted as if he had just announced himself as a serial killer or something. Did he? I was  a bit sleepy.  There is a possibility I could have dozed off. I’m don’t like his music but I would at least show some respect, fools. Maybe it was the NYC hipster glasses.  They say “I think (I’m cool), therefore I am.” No.

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His set neatly left the ladies of the WWE in the ring. Oh God. I want so much to respect this, but I’m struggling. I admire the women in the WWE. No, really. Let me explain. The majority are displayed as nothing greater than Playboy mansion rejects and yet to keep their bodies in that kind of shape they have to work bloody hard. They rarely get a decent storyline that isn’t based entirely on sex and often they only get a really mainstream push if they’re written on to the arm of one of the big boys. Oh dear. I’ve gone a little off topic I’ll have to come back to this in a future post, I think.

So, the match. I wasn’t paying that much attention until I realised there was a strange looking “Lady” in a Victoria Beckham wig in the corner. Urggggggh, no. Santino. I know he’s a comedy character and it’s all meant to be taken in jest, but I’m over this Santina thing before it even gets going. I thought it would end up with Beth and “Santina” in the ring with Beth winning. Nope. A MAN was Miss Wrestlemania.  I give up. *smacks forehead*

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On to a proper(ish) match. Lover numero uno, Chris Jericho, was in action against the legends and the prospect of a probable appearance from Mickey Rourke hung in the air. Incidentally, I know he made an awesome film about this industry that I love, but I can’t get over how awful he looks. The best advertisement for living a clean life if ever I saw one.  He looked about as uncomfortable as a Hollywood comeback kid could look sitting in the front row with all the rowdy wrestling meatheads.  NOTE TO SELF: Remember that actors are not the characters they play.

Jericho’s music hit and I got a funny feeling in my tummy. The first of many that night. Out he came  (cue gratuitous pants shot)……………..

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Mmm. Nice. He was closely followed by the legends. Piper is holding up well, despite his personal troubles, although, he’s the most American Scot I’ve ever  heard. Apart from maybe John Barrowman. Jimmy Snuka, bless him. Even pulling on his tribal threads can’t hide the fact that he’s rolling down the other side of the hill. Fair play to him for having a go though. Ricky ‘The Dragon’ Steamboat is in surprisingly remarkable shape.  If I were 30 years older……..no. That’s just wrong.  Then there’s the tearful pack-leader, Ric Flair. I hear that Flair was the life and soul of the party at the hotel, entertaining fans and colleagues alike. Good on ya, fella.  Naming no names, but maybe you could teach some of the more junior boys that skill. (I’ll name names later on…..don’t disappear before the end, k?)

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Jericho won the match, which surprised me. I was sure the old timers would bring it on home. But then, where could it have gone from there? Mickey Rourke was goaded in to joining my man in the ring, despite the reservations of the faux cronies, who he was flanked by in the crowd.  He smooshed Jericho in the chops and Flair encouraged the crowd to heap praise upon Hollywood. Bastards!

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I’d like to tell you all about the Hardy brothers match, but between making some tea, gathering my snacks and rescuing one of my cats from a mishap, I missed a lot of it. Sad but true. But I did end up with a happy cat and sustenance for the rest of the night.

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Then on to Rey Mysterio v JBL, which was so short it’s not even worth a picture. Oh yeah, and JBL quit. A week before the draft? Hmmm. Interesting. Not really.  Who cares? I was starting to feel a little disappointed with WM25. It was all………..fine, but I wasn’t feeling blown away.  My hypothetical tightrope walker was looking wobbly. Very wobbly. But that was all about to change.

Last week I was feeling fairly uninspired by the Undertaker/Shawn Michaels match.  In fact, I believe I said that Michaels was….kind of…MEH! Ouch! I’m sorry. Sometimes I get caught up the in matches that involve the boys I fancy the pants off and forget the others.  This match was not just the best match at Wrestlemania this year, it was one of the best freakin’ matches I’ve EVER seen. That’s in ten years of wrestling. I am in TOTAL AWE. Move after move, after move, after move……. it was a beautifully choreographed dance between partners who seemed to know each other so well it flowed without so much as a second thought. Oh yeah, after many a count-out saved by a last second raise of the arm, Undertaker scooped up the win. Urgh! My cupcake lied. But how could it lie to me when it was so delicious?  Kind of reminds me of this……

  • hmMindy: What’s wrong?
  • Homer: Oh, yeah, like you don’t know.  [weeping] We’re gonna have sex!
  • Mindy: Oh…well, we don’t have to.
  • Homer: [sad] Yes we do! The cookie told me so.
  • Mindy: Well…desserts aren’t always right.
  • Homer: But they’re so sweet.

I don’t think I’ll be using the ‘predictions by cupcake’ method again. Last week I said it wasn’t really about what happens in the ring. That’s not entirely true. The dramaz can’t live without quality wrestling and the top-notch ring action can’t function without a context.   A truly, truly fantastic match.  My tightrope walker just got his balance back. Now, someone please pass me the humble pie…..and a fork.

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I kind of feel sorry for anyone who has to follow that. I mean, seriously, TOUGH BREAK!  But if you can’t compete with the moves you might as well go with a soap opera storyline.  Infidelity, passion, revenge…yep, it can only be  Edge, Big Show and the light of my life….John Cena. BE STILL MY BEATING PANTS! With Edge and Big Show already in the ring I was curious to know if John Cena would use some kind of special gimmick to get himself in the ring.  My fave was Wrestlemania 22. Remember? The 1920s gangster thing?  Oooorgh. I loved it.  Click here if you need a reminder. This time, I thought all my Christmases had come at once. What appeared to be hundreds of  cloned John Cenas made their way down the ramp. There are  a million dirty jokes I could tell in relation to this, really, I’ve got a lot, but I’ll save you from them for now. Just look at the picture and make up your own.jce

The match itself wasn’t mindblowing, but following Undertaker/Michaels, anything would have looked a little bland.  I watched it back a couple of times. It was good and I’m super-chuffed that John Cena managed to impress my brother when he lifted both Big Show and Edge on his back. Wow! That kind of strength is……SUPER-WOW! If he can pick them up he could TOTALLY hold me up. Errrr, moving on. Swiftly. Before I combust.

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I was tired, but I was holding my own and staying awake.  Here’s proof ………….

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John won the match, which made me a smiley-kylie, but it also made it far less likely that Randy Orton would win the final match of the night. You can’t have two belts on RAW. Don’t get me wrong….I love Triple H, but that hold he has over backstage proceedings can be slightly nauseating at times. Anyway, before the headliner, time for a a little Hall of Fame styleee interlude. They all came on out, waved to the adoring crowd and we waited for the GOD that is Stone Cold Steve Austin to appear in an ill-fitting suit.

There he was. What a hero. What a legend. What a…..hey…..WHERE’S HE GOING? Why is he walking off the stage when everyone else is still on the stage? Maybe it was because it was somewhere between 3am and 4am and I was not quite feeling human, but I totally bought it.  I found myself wondering what contentious backstage spat had made everyone’s favourite beer-drinker walk off-stage. Then this happened….

sssaIt. Was. Amazing. I didn’t just smile, I beamed. BEAMED. God, I wish he was still around. Damn his severe neck injury that forced early retirement. I’ll love you forever Stone Cold. FOR-EH-VAH!

On to the main event of the night – Triple H v Randy Orton for the WWE Championship belt. The day before Wrestlemania I proclaimed to my boyfriend that I hated Randy Orton (he’s a huge fan) and that Triple H would be my victorious hunny-bunny. Then on Sunday morning the boyf told me some stories about Triple H that broke my heart.  Apparently, he had been snippy with fans attending Wrestlemania, refusing to sign autographs, have pictures taken and speak with fans. I don’t know if it’s true or not. I mean, it’s the interwebz, they could just be spreading nasty rumours. But it took some of the shine off for me. Maybe I need to promote CM Punk to lover number 3 and put Hunter or probation. Yeah, I’m sure he’s devastated about that. As a result of the rumour mill, I went in to the match a little subdued – still not thinking much of Randy Orton. But that was about to turn on its head, thanks to one line from Jerry ‘The King’ Lawler.

I watched as Randy Orton slithered his way down the ramp like some kind of big cat, hoping that the excitement I feel when I hear “Time to Play the Gaaaaaame!” would still feel the same. I watched Randy Orton. I watched and admired his physique. “Whether I like him or not, his body is AMAZING. PERFECT, even.” I thought. Then The King gave me a Wrestlegasm moment. Well, his words did anyway. The camera zoomed in on Orton, and after a long pause, out of nowhere, came:

“Somehow, evil isn’t supposed to look that good.  He looks like he was chiseled from stone.”

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WRESTLEGASSSSMMMMM! They were the perfect words at the perfect moment.  I bloody love you, Lawler. And you Orton. How the hell did that happen? Fastest U-turn ever. I should go in to politics. All of a sudden I found myself in Randy Orton’s corner. My boyfriend predicted that, somehow, I would eventually fall under Orton’s spell. I thought he was crazy. He’s obviously a very sane young man after all. Triple H’s entrance was pretty impressive, throwing a sledge hammer through a mirrored wall and all, but he had already lost my heart to Orton. At the very least I hoped for an explosive match. Errrrm…..didn’t quite happen.

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The match didn’t have the in-ring WHOA-Factor of Taker/Michaels, and didn’t deliver the intense, bitter, family-fueled drama it promised. CHEATEEEEED! Where were Legacy? I only commented the day before on how great of an opportunity it was Rhodes and DiBiase to be part of such a huge story. Yeah, well, there was no place for them at Wrestlemania. No Stephanie, no Linda, bearly a glimpse of Vince and Shane. What a crock of shit!.  It’s not that the wrestling was terrible, it’s just that, after such an enormous build-up, it all went a bit flat. Like the air slowing seeping out of a bicycle tyre.  Triple H took home the belt and we were left with him on the ropes being all victorious like, and the crowd leaving. The crowd were leaving the Wrestlemania stadium BEFORE IT WAS EVEN OFF THE AIR. Oh dear. That can’t be good.

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All in all I enjoyed my (very) early morning romp with my wrestle-boys-n-girl……or was it a really late night? I dunno. I took myself off to bed just after 4am, slept til 8:30am and spent most of this week trying to recover the hours I lost and the skin under my eyes. I’ve got some MAJOR luggage under my eyeballs. But it was sooooooo worth it.

Final shout out of the night goes to this couple, who managed to get a full shot of the Welsh flag on screen. Well done, darlings. Proud of ya.

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RAW(Lite): THE CHAOS BEFORE THE STORM

[This post was originally posted on http://buymyown.wordpress.com and has been imported in to wrestlegasm.com by the author]

Ok, so, my first proper wrestling post. I’ve been looking forward to this. This is actually my favourite week of the whole wrestling year- the week before Wrestlemania. I wish they would put this much effort in to EVERY week and not just before Wrestlemania.  Apparently they’re trying super-hard to be entertaining this time around to reach one million global PPV buys. Good luck to ya, Vinnie.

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My love of the WWE, or the WWF as it was called back in the days when I first discovered it’s greatness, is about a decade old. I was first seduced by bulging biceps back in 1999 and once you get sucked it, it never ever leaves you. It’s like a tattoo on your arse. You don’t want to admit it’s there but it is. And it’s not going away.  I remember my brother trying to kick me in the face shouting “SWEET CHIN MUSIC! SWEET CHIN MUSIC!” I needed to find out what the hell that meant, and I was VERY pleased with what I saw.

I know what folks think. It’s not real. They’re not actually hurting each other. They decide the winner in advance. Well,  a lil bit yah, a lil bit nah. Yeah, they decide who’s going to win waaaay in advance. They’ve got a whole team of writers who decide what path the characters will take. And that’s the point. They are CHARACTERS. It’s a soap – with good guys, bad guys, comedians, bitches, sexy boys, sexy girls, romances, bromances, back-stabbing, family feuds….I could go on but you see where I’m coming from, right?

It’s NOT ABOUT what happens in the ring. At least, not for me. I likes me some dramaz. And I LO-O-O-O-V-E the beautifully buff bods that go along with it all. In fact, it was The Rock’s glossy pecs that got me to stick around after the sweet chin music novelty wore off. But seriously, if it wasn’t for the Rock being such a smooth operator, I wouldn’t be boring you with this post right now. Ain’t life grand?

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Ok, look , they may not actually be punching each other in the chops, kicking each other in the knackers or cracking each other across the back with steel chairs (I personally think they’re made of turkey foil), but what they do to each other HURTS. It REALLY HURTS!  That ring is HARD. It’s not like the guy in the T-Mobile Flext ad where everything is soft and sqidgy.  Oh no.

THIS is what it’s REALLY like………………………

Oh My God, Paul. You are awesome. Can I please be your friend? See, I called him Paul ’cause that’s his real name and if we were buds, I’d be calling him Paul. See? Yeah, I know. I’m a loser.

That’s enough preaching for one day. The best brainwashing is ALWAYS done quietly and sneakily. So watch your back, I’m planting wrestle-love in your brain and it spreads like wildfire.  Now let’s see just what made my boat float on Raw this week.

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This one HAS to be good. This is Vince McMahon’s penultimate opportunity to persuade the public that they should spend their precious wages on his product instead of, you know, paying the phone bill and feeding the dog.

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I am a self -confessed Chris Jericho junkie. Not just a fan. He gets my motor running. Like Vrrrrroooooom! Not sure what it is. Probably the fact that he’s a Rock n Roll GOD. Probably the short blonde tresses and the extreme hotness. The fact that he’s a really lovely bloke, despite all that nasty ‘punched a female fan’ business. Those idiots were prodding and poking at him like was a caged animal in the zoo. The girl in question  spat on him and hit him. What, you think because someone’s famous you can get away with abusing them? Morons. Then there’s the humour. Ahh the humour, which  I am currently mourning the loss of.  Come back jolly-Jericho! I dig your heart-stopping stares and the flashy suits, but I miss the laffs. I  also dig that Canadian lilt. “You been hanging aboot the hoose today, eh?” Ahh. Tingles.

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So off the back of the whole Mickey Rourke thing, Y2J is taking on some of the legends being inducted in to the Hall of Fame on Saturday. He will, of course, lose. There’s no way the old statesmen will be defeated by a pip-squeak on their old-timers’ club trip to Houston. On Raw he took on Jerry ‘The King’ Lawler. What the hell is this? Help the Aged? Only joking. Wrestling ain’t wrestling without you squalking all over it, King. LOVE YA! It’s all very well and good, and the Mickey Rourke angle will catch a bit of media attention, but after it’s over, give my fella a proper storyline, alright? Eeeeexcellent.

On to my other lover. Jooooooohn Ceeeeeena. Ohhh baby. Apparently he is getting married to a girl he’s known since they were kids. Pffft. Thanks, John. Why don’t you just rip my heart out and hold it in front of my face, eh? Anyway. Yes. Wrestling.  Ahem. While Chris Jericho does his mean and moody thing, John is tickling my funny bone. No, that’s not a euphemism. Although, he should consider it socially acceptable to tickle me anywhere he chooses.  He really is making me LOL. I love-love-loved his greeting card for Vicky Guerrero last week. In fact, I love it so much I think I’ll watch it again. Join me if you will……

Oh John. Why so cute? Anyway, this week it was all action. Vicky, Edge and Big Show went about their strange lust triangle and John kept his pretty eyes on the pretty prize – Edge’s World Heavyweight belt. Edge even tried to sweet-talk John in to teaming up with him so they could, you know, hold hands and defeat the unnatural giant that is the Big Show together at Wrestlemania. Cheeky, bugger. My boy declined. Of course.

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I’d be quite happy to loiter around JC’s locker room with a wide-lens camera a little longer, but it’s time to move on to the Undertaker / Shawn Michaels thing.  I’ m not a big fan of either. I like HBK when he’s doing DX with my third honey, but on his own I find him….. kind of… meh! [Sorry, Foster. Don’t hate me] The other thing that’s winding me up about Michaels is that, from what I’ve heard, he has used his new-found religion to get out of doing certain things, and yet he is exploiting it in this current feud just for the sake of the story.  It kind of smacks of double standards.  Having said that, I’d like to see Taker lose, just for a change.  Apparently it’s illegal for Undertake to lose at Wrestlemania.

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Now on to the big one. The storyline giving me a total lady-boner. The match you ARE going to buy Wrestlemania for. Promise me? Your fingers better not be crossed.  It’s Triple H (+the McMahon Family) vs Randy Orton, flanked by his two errand boys (Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase).  OH MY GOD. Anything that involves Triple H and Stephanie McMahon in the same storyline makes me go in to total Cheshire cat mode.  And the fact that their marriage straddles that blurry WWE line between reality and fantasy confuses and delights me at the same time.

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After the  events of last week, I wondered how much more drama they could pack in to this story. Maybe it’s reached its peak? Orton handcuffed Hunter to the ropes, beat him up, dragged Stephanie in to the ring, knocked her unconscious and softly pressed his lips to hers while Triple H watched on in despair. Nice, eh?

So there’s Randy Orton, he of the shiniest thighs on the planet, in the ring telling us how fucking amazing he is. Ok, he didn’t F. But it was THAT strong! A shiny limo rolls up outside and, oh baby, now some shit’s gonna go down. What’s gonna happen? What’s gonna happen? AAAARGH! Tell me. Orton brings up the lights, calls out his errand boys and a gaggle of security dudes for protection. One again….. OH. BABY.

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We all wait for Triple H to appear. But HARK, who is that? VINCE. IT’S VINCE. OH MY GOD. AWESOME. No chance, that’s just what you got. Indeed, indeed, Mr. M.  By the way, what has Vince been up to in the gym while he’s been away? Has he had his skin replaced with an inflatable material that somone has to pump air in before he goes out in public? He looked….so…..well….INFLATED! Jacket comes off, tie flies off, sleeves rolled up, the old fella’s ready for a brawl I tells ya.

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A few seconds more and Shane appears. Oh God. This is too too too good. Who’s the third gonna be? Stephie? Linda? Baaaa0000m! Baaoom-Baaoom! TIME TO PLAY THE GAME. Yeeeeeeeey! Triple H. Standing sideways, looking livid. After much fierce staring (and my gasping for air for lover number three) The McMahon Men strode strongly towards the ring in unison. I swear to GOD, if there is such a thing as a Wrestlgasm, I had one.  A BIG ONE. OOOOOOOORGHHHHH!

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If you don’t want to cough up some cash for Vince McMahon after that, I don’t know what else will persuade you.  It all ended in giant punch-fest which, quite frankly, left me needing a cigarette. Observe……….

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Now I’m off to contemplate what might happen on Smackdown and to start googling mocktail recipes for my Wrestlemania party-for-one in the early hours of Monday. Oh timezones. Why must you torture me so?

ENDNOTE: NEVER let me Santino Marella in a mankini again. Ever, ever, ever. As if the fake uni-brow wasn’t hideous enough.  I’m just thankful he had shorts on underneath. Eesh!