We're Getting The Old Band Back Together!

RETURN (r-tûrn)
v. re·turned, re·turn·ing, re·turns

1. To go/come back, as to an earlier condition or place.
2. To revert in speech, thought, or practice.
3. To revert to a former owner.
4. To answer or respond.

There is little that has happened in the last few weeks of the WWE that doesn't want to make me behave like a small child who is first in line at the new all-you-can-scoff-for-a-dollar sweetie shop that just opened up next door to a bouncy castle. Somewhere in this analogy there is also a free bike and a Playstation (other consoles are available). Okay Okay, so there have been the odd forgettable match-ups and oddlier (?) thought out promos, but I'm willing to forgive because I'm saintly like that. Plus, I'm feeling sprightly after that nostalgic twang that's been giving me a bit of jip seems to have settled down a tad. Of course, this might have something to do with the company going year 2000 a go-go on its talent roster. Anyone complaining?....Nah, didn't think so.

But seriously now, without beginning a rousing chorus of Simon and Garfunkel's 'Hello Darkness My Old Friend', I would like to welcome you all back, neon gods and sensible idols of mine...

Trish Stratus - brunette now, and less booby than last time we saw you. Women's champ at a time when boys and girls were allowed to play together. Bad catchphrase.

Christian - came to help your brother (wait...are they still using that?) and kept touching your pectoral boo-boo. You helped put del Rio over and we thank you greatly for it. You look good.

The Undertaker - oh Phenom birthed from parts unknown, come back to claim your 'Mania throne. Silenced those rumour mills that kept chanting for Sting. Fedora in tact, but no Mcwifey on arm. They probably won't work that in. Probably.

Triple H - a spanner in the bloody works aren't you sausage! Five minutes of ovation and lots and lots of staring (at the Wrestlemania sign/The Undertaker/the sign/the crowd/Taker/the sign). Good god man! Didn't you see what happened to your buddy last year? Great to have you back...better to hear Lemmy's gravelly, death rattle, demon inducing vocals.

Couple these ring-leaders with other exciting figures from my misguided youth i.e. Booker T, Kevin Nash, The Rock and that Stone Cold chap, and this year looks like it's shaping up to whoop rather a substantial amount of arse. Yay.

Well Blow Me Smack-Down!

Well, this was going to be a rather weighty post concerning the nature of our twice weekly sports entertainment shows, but something tells me all that would be a little redundant in the face of the closing events of Monday Night Raw. If you've been sitting under a rock (nudgenudge winkwink) this is what happened....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLi3mHUVGNQ

(WARNING: THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU THIS WEEK)

...and now I can't sit still.

PS/ He's about to get all up in Cena's bid-ness.

Everything will resume as normal once I've calmed down a bit.

Hollywood Matters

I am going to start making a log of Matt Striker's intertextual references to films. The man has been on fire recently, and it's all very hilarious.

PS/ Any mention of 'The Chaperone' does not count.

THE LONGEST RUNNING WEEKLY PRIMETIME EPISODIC BLOG IN HISTORY!

So while that title might be a tiny bit of an exaggeration, I do extend a very warm welcome to you: new internet friend. This little thing we've got going on here is just a small facsimile of a passion brought upon me, I'm sure, by parental issues. So here goes the confession (and I suppose, the point of all this):

I love wrestling. And I am not afraid (of you, I swear).

I want to share these inner thoughts with you (new super BFF), because I feel the female fan community has been left a tad wanting in recent years, subjected to the silly jibes of heels and the misinformed populace. Don't get me wrong, I love screaming incessantly when there's a hot bodded studly gent in the room (in any capacity), I'd just rather he was performing a corkscrew moonsault while I rip my vocal chords in his honour, as opposed to him successfully performing the fairly minor achievement of 'man taking his shirt off'. Yes, yes, this is all very nice, I hear you say, and while I myself balked at the idea of creating a female fan blog (eugh), I just felt moved to prove that some of us big lame girlies are actually, you know, 'INTO IT'. In essence, I don't want to be counted out as another statistic sucking, purple-donning, rooting-tooting-saluting Cena lover who's only goal is to pop out an equally dumb, poster child worshipping sprog with no respet for the Attitude era.
Ahhhh pipe dreams...

Join me won't you.

PS/ those of you whom I have not just alienated, I'm sure will be riled up at some point. I actively encourage healthy, sensible and well punctuated debate.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT HATE JOHN CENA AND I'M OKAY WITH THAT.