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Oh my god, hold the presses!




. . . I'm blogging!

That's right folks, I'm back!

And even better than back, I'm now cabled, which means eight hours of wrestling a week and you know what that means?

It means spending a lost of time hitting the fast forward button on the Foxtel iQ, which is the Aussie version of TiVo. Cos, dayum, there's some seriously crappy ideas coming out of the WWE at the moment. Not to mention some incredibly irritating wrestlers.

I still can't stand a bar of Cena. Every time he's flapping his gums, I'm watching him in fast forward. Randy Orton, darling of the fanbrats, is actually amusing me with his current legend killing spree, and I have to admit, watching him beat the living snot out of the Nature Boy on ECW last week had me impressed. He did manage to look like a stone cold psychopath.

But what the hell are they thinking with the great Khali? Jesus wept, at least the Big Show could talk when he wasn't lumbering around the ring. And he had a measure of athleticism. And will someone please tell them that winning the World's Strongest Man in the frickin' 90s does not give Mark Henry, that great tub of lard, the right to continue to bill himself as such. King of the Jungle, my ass!

And wtf is it with the Boogeyman? And frickin' Little Boogey? Glenn, baby, when they pitched that shit to you, you should said "No thanks" all nice and polite and then run like hell, cos teaming you with them is a dog of a storyline! Give the guy a serious championship push, you miserable bastards! Hasn't he earned it?

And Hornswoggle? Midget wrestlers is so damn 70s, Vince. Put down the crack pipe and get some professional help man, the only thing un-funnier than that was you prancing around in a lavender doo-rag and posturing as the ECW Champion. Although seeing Tommy Dreamer front you was kind of a blast from the past. They shoulda given him a Singapore cane to bust over your skull, for old time's sake!

And just don't get me started on the Divas or we'll be here all damn day! Even Victoria, my favourite psychobitch, has sold out to the tits'n'ass brigade.

On the plus side, I'm loving the fact that Matt and Jeff are back together as Team Extreme, because they truly are great. Taker and Batista's battles were phenomenal, if a bit predictable - while I'm sorry to see Taker on another hiatus (and I do believe he'll be back!), I'm stoked seeing Batista getting such a great run. Edge . . . talk about torn. He used to be a favourite, and he's still a great wrestler, but there's something just not quite right about his current persona - it fits him kinda like a cheap suit. Hopefully I'll either get used to it, or the draft next week will shake things up and I won't have to!

And I am getting some wicked brilliant ideas for my fics, which is good. Now if I could only carve out the serious amounts of time I'd like to spend writing them.

But fear not, for this weekend is a long weekend, and my favourite distraction is taking the weekend off (love you, baby, but in the words of Pink, "Go away, give me a chance to miss you, say goodbye, it'll make me wanna kiss you!") and so I can see some time for me to be able to do two things.

One is to split the current works in progress into chapters, so I can post as I go.

The other is to maybe get my ass moving on actually writing more on one of the two fics I'm working on. Just can't decide if I wanna write about wrestling or romance (i.e. smut) because I've left Vivvie and . . . someone inflagrante delicto and I do have to kind of finish that scene if I want to go on!

Decisions, decisions!