Little known fact: When I was little, I LOVED the WWF.
Both my siblings and I would watch the matches faithfully... then we'd try imitating the moves.
It was shit we had to do in order to make Rafa feel like a boy, since he didn't have a brother with whom to roughhouse. We obliged... especially me, since I could beat up either one of my siblings with one hand tied behind my back (no, really, I tried. I was just so much taller and more built than either Rafa or D, I could slap them to the ground with one hand, then I'd immobilize them by sitting on them until they'd quit).
We eventually had to stop once Rafa nearly snapped D's little neck off. Mom prohibited us from ever watching wresting again. A real bummer.
So... knowing this, it's more than obvious that my heart broke a little this morning when I saw my twitter and FB feed covered in shock over "Macho Man" Randy Savage's death.
Ohhhhh Nohhhhh! :(
I LOVED YOU, MACHO MAN! (not as much as Hulk Hogan, but you were up there, you eccentric little rascal!)
My guess is he left this world at such a relatively young age in order to kick some ass during tomorrow's "rapture" event.
That has me laughing. People's freak out, that is.
"THE WORLD IS ENDING TOMORROW?! I might as well live it up, then! PAAAARTY!"
No, idiot, get your shit straight: tomorrow is the supposed rapture, where all the "Good" people will... get beamed up to heaven, and the evil people will remain on Earth to endure... I don't know, a shitload of pain?
Your plan is to be BAD before God comes down and takes you away? Shit... you's crazy, brah. I'd do the polar opposite (now, if a doctor were to tell me I had a month to live, THAT'S when I'd go crazy and just go about fucking anyone as often as possible... and I'd snort coke... I'd probably try a little bit of heroin... and I'd bungee jump and skydive. I'd go CRAZY. Then if I were still alive, I'd ask for forgiveness and hope hope hope I'd get into heaven).
Of course, this is all according to some dipshit dumbfuck fanatical Christian who somehow predicted the date. He did the same thing back in '94 (I STILL remember this. It's thanks to him that I'm so traumatized over the end of the world. Fucking crazy asshole fucked me up for life), yet here we are... all of us. No rapture, no end of days.
Fucking lunatics.
My guess is I'll still be here come Saturday night.
I suspect my nails will be partly to blame... because no saintly girl wears black nail polish.
Oh well, I tried.
(same could be said about that goddamn manicure. Excuse the middle finger, that poor baby got burned by a cooking pan last night because I'm an idiot... but the feather on the ring finger is WEAK and unacceptable:
Yeah, it's a FEATHER. It's fucking terrible. It's worse in person. So shameful, yet it remains on my hand because those damn feathers were expensive-- no they weren't. A batch was only 3 bucks, but still, I'm too stubborn to just throw the used feather away. It needs a minimum of three days before I'm ok with that procedure)
Both my siblings and I would watch the matches faithfully... then we'd try imitating the moves.
It was shit we had to do in order to make Rafa feel like a boy, since he didn't have a brother with whom to roughhouse. We obliged... especially me, since I could beat up either one of my siblings with one hand tied behind my back (no, really, I tried. I was just so much taller and more built than either Rafa or D, I could slap them to the ground with one hand, then I'd immobilize them by sitting on them until they'd quit).
We eventually had to stop once Rafa nearly snapped D's little neck off. Mom prohibited us from ever watching wresting again. A real bummer.
So... knowing this, it's more than obvious that my heart broke a little this morning when I saw my twitter and FB feed covered in shock over "Macho Man" Randy Savage's death.
Ohhhhh Nohhhhh! :(
I LOVED YOU, MACHO MAN! (not as much as Hulk Hogan, but you were up there, you eccentric little rascal!)
My guess is he left this world at such a relatively young age in order to kick some ass during tomorrow's "rapture" event.
That has me laughing. People's freak out, that is.
"THE WORLD IS ENDING TOMORROW?! I might as well live it up, then! PAAAARTY!"
No, idiot, get your shit straight: tomorrow is the supposed rapture, where all the "Good" people will... get beamed up to heaven, and the evil people will remain on Earth to endure... I don't know, a shitload of pain?
Your plan is to be BAD before God comes down and takes you away? Shit... you's crazy, brah. I'd do the polar opposite (now, if a doctor were to tell me I had a month to live, THAT'S when I'd go crazy and just go about fucking anyone as often as possible... and I'd snort coke... I'd probably try a little bit of heroin... and I'd bungee jump and skydive. I'd go CRAZY. Then if I were still alive, I'd ask for forgiveness and hope hope hope I'd get into heaven).
Of course, this is all according to some dipshit dumbfuck fanatical Christian who somehow predicted the date. He did the same thing back in '94 (I STILL remember this. It's thanks to him that I'm so traumatized over the end of the world. Fucking crazy asshole fucked me up for life), yet here we are... all of us. No rapture, no end of days.
Fucking lunatics.
My guess is I'll still be here come Saturday night.
I suspect my nails will be partly to blame... because no saintly girl wears black nail polish.
 |
| I live in wifebeaters like some sort of 1994 East LA cholo |
(same could be said about that goddamn manicure. Excuse the middle finger, that poor baby got burned by a cooking pan last night because I'm an idiot... but the feather on the ring finger is WEAK and unacceptable:
Yeah, it's a FEATHER. It's fucking terrible. It's worse in person. So shameful, yet it remains on my hand because those damn feathers were expensive-- no they weren't. A batch was only 3 bucks, but still, I'm too stubborn to just throw the used feather away. It needs a minimum of three days before I'm ok with that procedure)
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