Tell Me A Story

It’s Monday night which, in this obviously extremely meaningful life of mine (sarcasm on top of sarcasm, friends), means one thing – I just watched Monday Night Raw.

I had a terrible week and a terrible weekend and a terrible day. I’ve been a sick, sore, sad teary eyed mess and, also, avoiding my precious Sierra Nevada Pale Ale thanks to a new med in my arsenal. Obviously, nobody needs beer but adding one more thing to the pile never helps. I’ve been an emotional, nostalgic, depressed baby in need of some good news and instead faced only with the added, unfair and extremely unwarranted sadness of those around me. This past week sucked and while I’m being dramatic I’ll insist that I’m sitting here waiting for someone/something to show up and make the prospect of another week seem appealing.

Enter: Monday Night Raw.

Of course, you and I both know how much I love WWE but even I had no idea that it could pull me out of this funk and into two hours of happiness. I spent my Monday night screaming and announcing the goings-on in the ring out-loud to my cats. I was going back and forth between doing my best Ric Flair – woooooooooooo – and telling my favorite cat, Laser, how much I hate Randy Orton. I was laughing and jumping on my sofa and … seriously … did you see Vince McMahon attempt to have Hornswoggle kiss his recently buffed, HD ass only to have Finlay save the day? Finlay should adopt Hornswoggle. He’s the only father figure he’s ever known.

So, WWE Monday Night Raw made me happy. The silliness made me giggle for a few hours and it made me Swanton-Bomb a sofa cushion … all of this during what I see as a terrible time for storylines – as in, there really aren’t any, anymore. There are so many great personalities in the “league” right now! Y2J is back, John Cena is back, Jeff Hardy is now something amazing on his own, HBK is channeling some Colbert style and putting everyone “on notice,” Vince McMahon is as funny and maniacal as ever – hell, even the tag team pair up of Santino and Carlito has amazing potential based on the massive amount of work that these two guys put into their in-ring characters. So much to work with and so much … blah. Right now it’s the guys themselves that are keeping me watching and not their pathetic rivalries based on absolutely nothing which spring from nowhere with no warning and fade into nothing with no resolve. I would love to be able to blame a writers strike but most people who closely follow WWE are aware that their writers are independent of any guilds and not permitted to unionize. The WWE is cross-promoting like crazy right now (Project Runway, Playboy) but the self-promoting of monthly pay-per-views during sponsorship-packed matches that consumers are already watching is allowing no time for stories to evolve. Thinking about all of this is making me sad again.

Let’s fix this before WrestleMania, OK, guys? I want to see this talented group of guys stick around for another season! Tell me a story.

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Some Asides:

  • I made a pretty happening mineola, spinach, avocado, red onion, feta, lettuce, walnut, cracked black pepper salad deal for dinner tonight. With Raspberry vinaigrette dressing. Sounded like a good idea (especially considering the number of mineolas I have left to consume) and was an even better tasting idea.
  • The Stephen Colbert-Jon Stewart-Conan O’Brien writer-less, time-waster match-up that went three shows deep tonight was not only hilarious but pretty much more entertaining than anything RAW had to offer besides Mr. McMahon’s ass. The fighting was even pretty well choreographed.
  • I really want to see the film Persepolis but cannot find a damn theatre in my area showing it.
  • Daniel Carcillo is still a PIM machine, even after is mid-season injury. Of course, he didn’t even get ice time tonight because :drumroll: he was reassigned. Tonight – Monday night – the first night of my third battle against Clark. I find myself in the middle of the pack in our PIM league and I keep making risky line-up decisions in hopes of eking out another win in the league where all time is crunch time.