The other day I went to the public museum for this thing. I knew that I could walk around in the hood without having to show my wrestling license every few minutes and there aren't many times I can do that so I take advantage of them when I can. I grabbed a bag from the stash of pretzel rods and headed off.
I got addicted to pretzel rods when I went to work for Junior in the 80s. He told me that the cigars I usedta smoke weren't kid friendly enough and suggested I switch to pretzel rods in public since I had a habit of gesturing with the cigar during a promo and I needed something for that. It worked out well. I stopped smoking altogether which was good. No matter what else he and I may have had happen between us, I haveta thank him for that.
I wore my 'LWO' shirt instead of my normal one. I worked for WCW for a year, appeared on television a whole, what, five times maybe, and have this shirt to show for it. They hired me for the nostalgia effect and wanted me to not have the pretzel rod in my mouth when I talked. Idiots. I did get a year to do little else but recuperate so that was nice.
Anyway, I went to the museum to walk around, have some fun, entertain the kids a little, nothing fancy. Occasionally a kid would see me and his eyes would light up with excitement. It made me happy to know that I was brightening someone's day; that someone saw the faded star that I am and was still happy to see me.
Every single onea them kids called me Rey Mysterio.
Now, I know we both wear hoods but they look totally different. Besides, he's a little guy and I'm a big outta shape bruiser from the old days. We aint twins.
I suppose I should be happy they thought I was someone who's a big name. It could be worse. Still, it stung a little to be forgotten. I aint wrestled in a long time and I'm aint in any shape to start again but, for a moment last night, I wanted to get back in the ring and show them who the Smasher is and what I can do.
But I shouldn't.
27 October 2007
22 October 2007
Chivalry is dead
The following story is true. Some of the names have been changed to protect the ignorant.
As I stumbled free from the embrace of the weird inflated trap, I realized that I was also free of the house, the house of fear and horror. Despite the fact that I was heading down a dirt ramp, I did nothing to slow my pace. It seemed logical to me that, while I had escaped the house, I may not have yet escaped the inhabitants of that house. I didn’t slacken my speed until I’d caught up with George and Amy. There, some distance away from the house, we could safely giggle and discuss the creepy joy we’d experienced while waiting for the rest of our group.
I watched as the next group emerged from the house and was confused slightly when that group was not the remainder of our friends. I was also confused by the lack of attack upon exit. It was such a perfect location for a surprise that I could not understand using it.
A few moments later, another group emerged and this was our friends. They loudly laughed and giggled the remainder of their fear away. Then, suddenly, my theories were proved correct. From the shadows of the exit sprang a masked individual with a loud running chainsaw. Relaxation was replaced by one last blast of fright. With a burst of ‘feet don’t fail me now’, young Larry ran, instinctively abandoning the young lady that he had accompanied through the house in order to protect her. In the moment of truth, he had failed in his task, leaving her to the madman’s whims.
Chivalry is dead.
As I stumbled free from the embrace of the weird inflated trap, I realized that I was also free of the house, the house of fear and horror. Despite the fact that I was heading down a dirt ramp, I did nothing to slow my pace. It seemed logical to me that, while I had escaped the house, I may not have yet escaped the inhabitants of that house. I didn’t slacken my speed until I’d caught up with George and Amy. There, some distance away from the house, we could safely giggle and discuss the creepy joy we’d experienced while waiting for the rest of our group.
I watched as the next group emerged from the house and was confused slightly when that group was not the remainder of our friends. I was also confused by the lack of attack upon exit. It was such a perfect location for a surprise that I could not understand using it.
A few moments later, another group emerged and this was our friends. They loudly laughed and giggled the remainder of their fear away. Then, suddenly, my theories were proved correct. From the shadows of the exit sprang a masked individual with a loud running chainsaw. Relaxation was replaced by one last blast of fright. With a burst of ‘feet don’t fail me now’, young Larry ran, instinctively abandoning the young lady that he had accompanied through the house in order to protect her. In the moment of truth, he had failed in his task, leaving her to the madman’s whims.
Chivalry is dead.
21 October 2007
What If?
We all play the 'What If?' game at some point. 'What If I'd lived in this city instead of that one?' 'What If I'd gone to this school?''What If I'd moved out sooner/later/not broken up with/etc?' It can be a useful tool to see where you want to move forward with your life.
The weird part about it is that we're not very good at the game. Certain changes aren't accounted for and other variables cannot be calculated. For instance, I've been typing up a story I wrote in middle school. It was set in the future which is now the past. It's interesting to see what I predicted, how little understanding I had of certain things (like technology) and that all my friends in the story are people I knew at the time in middle school. It was as if I expected to know those people the rest of my life. That said, I do still have contact with people I knew in middle school. In the past couple weeks I realized that I'd bumped into someone I was pals with in middle school. Neither of us realized we knew each other at the time. Weird how that works sometimes.
I guess my point is that we (or at least I guess I do) generally expect certain things to remain constant. Certain good things in our lives shouldn't go away so we don't, or can't, picture those changes. Friends moving away, buildings burning down, businesses closing; these things shouldn't happen to the good things in our lives but sometimes they do. It's not the change we want but sometimes it's the change that happens.
Last night we played 'What If?' a few times. 'What If we all move to Colorado?' 'What If George had played high school football?' 'What If Katy and Eric's son marries George and Amy's daughter?' Looking forward and looking back. What would change? What would be the same?
I have the feeling of great change yet ahead of me. Change in and of itself doesn't bother me like it once did. I hate change for the sake of change, changes made in an effort to 'look busy'. At least one big something is going to change for me soon, perhaps a couple somethings. There's rumblings afoot and I've no clue to what level it will alter things. That's the problem with rumblings. They are indistinct by nature.
One thing I have no interest in letting change is my writing and by that I mean that I have no interest in stopping. It would be too fundamental a change and I don't like what I 'see' of that me. If that means this blogging thing stays weekly for the time being while I work on everything else, that's not a problem for me.
I wonder what's going to happen. What Then?
The weird part about it is that we're not very good at the game. Certain changes aren't accounted for and other variables cannot be calculated. For instance, I've been typing up a story I wrote in middle school. It was set in the future which is now the past. It's interesting to see what I predicted, how little understanding I had of certain things (like technology) and that all my friends in the story are people I knew at the time in middle school. It was as if I expected to know those people the rest of my life. That said, I do still have contact with people I knew in middle school. In the past couple weeks I realized that I'd bumped into someone I was pals with in middle school. Neither of us realized we knew each other at the time. Weird how that works sometimes.
I guess my point is that we (or at least I guess I do) generally expect certain things to remain constant. Certain good things in our lives shouldn't go away so we don't, or can't, picture those changes. Friends moving away, buildings burning down, businesses closing; these things shouldn't happen to the good things in our lives but sometimes they do. It's not the change we want but sometimes it's the change that happens.
Last night we played 'What If?' a few times. 'What If we all move to Colorado?' 'What If George had played high school football?' 'What If Katy and Eric's son marries George and Amy's daughter?' Looking forward and looking back. What would change? What would be the same?
I have the feeling of great change yet ahead of me. Change in and of itself doesn't bother me like it once did. I hate change for the sake of change, changes made in an effort to 'look busy'. At least one big something is going to change for me soon, perhaps a couple somethings. There's rumblings afoot and I've no clue to what level it will alter things. That's the problem with rumblings. They are indistinct by nature.
One thing I have no interest in letting change is my writing and by that I mean that I have no interest in stopping. It would be too fundamental a change and I don't like what I 'see' of that me. If that means this blogging thing stays weekly for the time being while I work on everything else, that's not a problem for me.
I wonder what's going to happen. What Then?
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