TRIPLE THREAT RULES

It's 00.27. Day begins, of course.
And everyone in the casa del quemaduras is watching WRESTLEMANIA. As in the highlight-of-the-wrestling-calender and highlight of my boyfriend's year. And my brother's year.

just to clarify-------

Yes, I live in the countryside.

No, my brother and my boyfriend are not the same person.

Hence blogging. Because WRESTLEMANIA is definitely not the highlight of my year. I liked wrestling when I was 13. I went to see Insurrextion, an actual WWF event, in London or someplace big that was megaWowexciting. I could barely see anything, but I bought an Undertaker t-shirt because, well, death and shit is cool. And it's kind of cool to think of sombre funeral men suddenly going ape-shit crazy, even now.

My eyes have yet to make a connection with the TV screen. There's some demonic Happy Birthday song. Wrestlers are so dark and brooding. They're so...well. They should be sex. They are the fastest of the fastest sperm, physically fit etc.etc. but this is Wrestling Entertainment. They are the fastest² sperm after a car accident, wearing a full body cast with OMGI'MFOOOKINGAWESOME painted all over the plaster. Yeah, that's a shit analogy. Forgive me. I keep getting distracted by Facebook. It's now...01.32 and I'm not used to typing this late.

Unless it's for an article, or an essay, or anything that's important.

not wordvom.

Wrestlers. Never a crotch bump. Notice that.

Forgive me, and this is crass, but whenever I think about wrestling I'm transported back to when I was a 13 year old kid talking about how PHHHIT stacey keibler was with my 3 friends (I was ridiculously popular) while we fought in our own Wrestling Federation. I was the champion. THE GORILLA, yes! I was the Gorilla and I was the Champion. We put down about five mattresses in a basement and properly went to town on each other, with actual ladders and chairs. I should be completely BrainFucked from fighting. It was a short and fruitless career.

but look at me.

I'm great, actually.

SMUG. SMUG. SMUG.

Oh, back to the crassness. Yes, Chyna. I always think about Chyna. And her clenis. If you don't know....a clenis is a cross between a clitoris and a penis. She took too many steroids and...yeah. So the legend goes. Well, there are pictures. I'm not going to link to them, but you can Google if you want to.

you don't want to.

CONCLUSION BECAUSE BED IS BETTER THAN BEING A GOOD BOYFRIEND:

WRESTLING IS SHIT.