Boss Man Slam and a Shot of Vodka

There's no point to this post, no rhyme or reason, just a blank box and carte blanche for me to air my Wrestling and Drink induced musings........

Now I'll admit, I'm a wrestling uber geek...I trawl the tinterweb reading news and rumours, seeing who's unhappy here and what might happen there...it's fine, completely harmless, even my girlfriends, past and present have tolerated my friday night shenanigans of watching Smackdown! and even missing Mondays off work so I can stay up untill the wee hours watching my favourite sports entertainers battle it out in a gladiatorial contest (although way better lit and better music!)

I'll even admit to sometimes waking up in the night, seeing my prone partner laying next to me, and instead of thinking of how beautiful she is and how lucky I am, images rush through my mind of me, atop the wardrobe, flashing the "Supafly" Snuka peace sign and dropping the biggest Macho Man elbow my body can muster.....

Whats worse is that at Christmas I decided to fulfill my lifelong dream....... I sent off for an info leaflet for a wrestling school in America......but that wasn't it, oh no............ I bought myself a Mexican Wrestling Mask!

WHAT!!!!!!

Well, I felt the need, and thought it'd be great for parties and nights out, which it has been, but I found myself wearing it at every oppertunity, much to the disdain of the missus, and has lead me to being put on super secret double probation......

Friday nights are when I get the majority of my work done, less distractions and I can stay up late and drink....there's the problem!

I found myself sitting in my dressing gown, with a LAAAAAARGE vodka and red bull, singing along to Police & Thieves.....but wearing my wrestling mask.

Now, I've never been a Lucha Libra, nor have I ever been in a wrestling match, but I never realised how hard it is to drink or smoke, or even eat in a wrestling mask, and as my friend pointed out, they give you little sausage noses, and this is also annoying.

So there I sat, on my own, at stupid o clock in the morning, drunk and hyperactive, donned in my best dressing gown and wrestling mask.....when I had the ultimate brain fart - - - - I should wake the other half up!!!!

WHAT!!!

It did not go down well!! I should have taken into account that I looked like the biggest, scariest uber tard and talked myself out of it.

There was screaming and shouting, there may have even been snot and tears, all I know is that the mask has been banished to the studio ever since and may not be worn, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, in the ladies presence.

As I said, no rhyme or reason to this blog, maybe you can deduce that I'm giving you a bit of background before I unleash upon you all furious wrestling knowledge and angry geekyness....... take from it what you will but I say this.....

Who's to blame for this? Me? No way, I'm impressionable, and the wrestling world hooked me in the early 90's when the WWF was cartoon characters and overly camp costumes - just google the Gobbledygooker, Max Moon, Kamala and the Mountie!!!