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Below are 20 journal entries, after skipping by the 20 most recent ones recorded in CM Punk's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, January 13th, 2005
12:46 am
"War of words"
I've gotten around to reading some of the other wrestling personalies livejournals the last few nights, and with me being the O.G of the livejournal story telling, I found myself enamored with two people in particular: Jimmy Jacobs, and Alex Shelley.

They apparently are having some sort of a contest to see who can post the best/weirdest/funniest entry. I found Jimmys entry about freaking out and trying to stab people with scissors extremely rad, and am only disappointed that he actually didn't go through with it. Given the situation he was presented with, it's a shame those who were on his side of that tag match didn't have enough balls to actually defend themselves. Alex Shelley just posts some boobies. I say big deal! They're good kids. They mean well. They really do.
The following story is in no way any type of challenge by any means. I simply just dust off my crown.....(god i'm an asshole).

This past 4th of July was spent at Lake of the Ozarks with myself, Ace Steel, and of course the legendary Harley Race. We spent all day on the Lake in his boat and a lot of the day was like that commercial for 'Girls Gone Wild'. Random strangers showing me their boobies (there ya go shelley!), and me just throwing water ballons at them. Late that night, back at Harleys house, we all ate some great BBQ and Harley had about a million billion martinis I think it was. He had these little pickled green beans he'd put in them....anyway....he drank a LOT. Which is no surprise, he's Harley Fucking Race. And yes, I just capitilized the 'F' in fucking. Ace is pretty tanked too, to set the scene...i'm just stuffed with BBQ, when this hilarious conversation ensues. Harley gets to telling stories, which on another side note is some of the best times i've ever had in my life. Just having the privilege to sit and listen to Harely talk about his career on numerous occasions has been really rewarding. He was talking about his run in the WWF, the reason he was brought in, and more importantly who he was working at the time. The conversation went exactly like this:

Harley: "...and he had me working Hogan, JYD, and one of my last programs was with....shit. What's his name? The guy. You know. Big guy....c'mon, you know!
That faggot Indian."

Now...I bust out laughing and Ace and I just look at each other while Harely is scrunching up his face trying to remember who he is talking about. I start throwing out names, but none of them really make any sense. I mean....Wahoo never worked in the WWF, and certainly if he did, Harely wouldn't call him "that faggot Indian". Tatanka, who Ace proudly proclaimed was who Harely must've been talking about. Certainly you all know Tatanka, while having wrestled in the WWF, it was years after Harely had already retired. So i'm sitting there, and Harely is literally scratching his head and Ace is clueless...and I really don't have any clue either. So I think..."faggot indian"...and I blurt out:

Punk: "The Ultimate Warrior?"

Harley: "YES! That fucking GOOF!"

I laughed for a week.

Current Mood: awake
Saturday, November 27th, 2004
2:59 am
"My life is just like a car crash" OR "boring rant that will somehow get tons of replies..."
Sometimes my sleep schedule is so fucked up. I always figure why bother sleeping when I gotta leave at four AM to get to the airport on time. Of course, it doesn't help that I slept in on Thursday, so even if I wanted to try and sleep it'd be useless. So here I am, in chicago for a fleeting twenty-four hours. I'll sleep on the plane, hit the gym, go home, nap, eat, then go back to the gym. Gotta love this warped cycle of life. I was supposed to spend thanksgiving on the road like the last four or five years, but the IWA shows got canceled, so I had my first turkey day in Philly. I was also supposed to stay in Chi town until Sunday mourning, and tomorrow night I was going to hit up my old stomping ground the Metro to see Lars and the Bastards. Maybe sing a little duet, who knows. So now I fly back in about four hours, and i'm pretty much just killing time right now. I'm a domestic Punker, doing my laundry and all so I don't have to bother with it durning the week. I think i'm starting to get sick of all the travel, which is something I never thought i'd say. I'm at the point where each day I sleep at a different time, for different intervals and I have to try to fit in going to the gym, and teaching and everything else. Nothing is a total loss this weekend however, and i'm almost certain I'll get to cross paths with Lars when hes in Philly.

The big rad news I got is that on Sunday, my best friend Chez comes to Philly to visit. She'll get to see how utterly crazy my life is, with the going to the gym twice and day and training the kids, but it should be fun. I moved away over a year ago, and not a day goes by where I don't miss living 6 blocks down the street from her, and being able to go see her whenever. I need to move again though. I hate paying tolls on the turnpike everyday. I also want to get a dog. Oh, and the high speed internet so I can beat everybodies ass at Halo. Yes, I will look for a new place, and I will crush Stevie Richards at online gaming. If somebody wants to give me free living quarters near or in the city of philly, Steviecorps will buy you lunch everyday for a year.

Real quick, thanks to everybody that keeps praising my match with Samoa Joe on 10/16. We're both real proud of it. It was one of the most relaxed matches i've ever had. Sometimes you just have chemistry with somebody, and trust them enough to just go to the ring, and go wherever the crowds emotions take you. That night was very much all called on how the crowd was reacting, so thanks to everybody that was there live, thanks to the people who have watched the tape, enjoyed it, reviewed it, whatever. I'm going to try my best to keep delivering.....
And now i'm going to try my best to kill another hour or two. If anybody is going to the Bastards show in Philly on December 12th, drop me a line and let me know. I'll jump on you....

XpunkX...trying to remember when...

Current Mood: disappointed
Tuesday, October 26th, 2004
10:32 pm
I was raped by a bulimic werewolf.
...and now, every time there's a full moon, I throw up.

All the people on the real world are soooo worthy of 1000 punches to the face, it's not even funny.

I hope Christian from Nip/tuck isn't dead.

Fuck you, it's my birthday.
Thursday, September 2nd, 2004
1:23 pm
April Hunter, of big boobed, bigger mouthed fame says:

"When I get that CM Punk pay check I'll shut the hell up. Comparison wise, I've (and some other ladies here too) traveled to more int'l countries, worked more federations than he, been trained by a legend who's name and work everyone knows, been in regular newstand mags like playboy and musclemag, on TV shows like MSNBC, Stern and others but probably make 2/3 of his average pay. And I work twice a show (wrestling and managing) for it.
Ah, I know it won't happen, but a girl can dream, can't she?"

CM Punk, of never having had to buy his own plane ticket to England fame says:

"Don't hate, appreciate"


Current Mood: amused
Sunday, August 15th, 2004
2:51 am
Dead. In your tracks.
So i'm at the dojo. No sense in sleeping (which is a very underrated line...might have to use that for a t-shirt). I've gotta head out to the airport in a little over an hour. I'm going to kill some time by updating this, of course, with non-sensical gibber jabber that nobody gets but me....
yeeeeeeeah...remember that bad weekend I had? Well, i don't feel like reliving it. In a nutshell, I had a run of five weekends in a row where my travel was just horrible. That pariticular weekend saw me get screwed out of my early flight, bags lost for over five days with my car keys in them, and I missed a booking for JCW. Losing money sucks. Not having a car because it's parked at the airport because you're an idiot and checked a bag with your car keys in it sucks MORE. I belive the weekend after that, I was flying to Missouri to work for Harley Race, when, while already seated, a represenative of US Air boarded and told me that i'd have to get off the plane due to weight restrictions. That'll make a lesser man bulimic. Apparently, I was one of the last to book my ticket. So I missed that show too.

If I haven't in the past, I would now like to proclaim myself the O.G. of the livejournal. I find it hilarious that people even rip off the writing style of Samoa Joe and myself. Eh, the stories are mad boring, but they try. It's cute!

Go read Mark Wolfs journal. Good stuff there.

People changing: sure does suck. There's a lot of things I gotta get over, this is just one of them. Ya think i'd be used to it by now, but basically people are selfish cunts.

I worked Donovan Morgan tonight. I was supposed to work him about two years ago, but the week before I fractured my skull. I actually still tried to make the booking, but my little sisters found me passed out in the hallway of their house with one shoe on. I wrestled with Stevie Richards tights on. Why? Because my ass looked dynamite, that's why.

I'm still debating if I should do the TPI this year. This is one of the things I gotta get over. This tourney used to be special to me. Good memories, but shit just ain't the same anymore.

Go buy Lars and the Bastards new CD, because it's the best thing to come out all year so far.

I need some new tattoos. It's not the money that's the problem, it's the wrestling. I do a lot of that. That's bad for tattoos ya know. My birthday is also coming up, so please send many gifts. No flowers, and if you're an exgirlfriend, I won't except baked goods.

I think that's it kids. I'm debating if I should spell check all this...
See ya in 6 months!!!

Current Mood: sore
Monday, June 28th, 2004
3:03 am
FUCK: the prequel
I'll update this week with all the crummy details of one of the worst weekends i've had the "pleasure" of being on the shit end of in a long while.
Thursday, June 10th, 2004
11:12 pm
the live journal O.G. is back from the dead...
Ray Charles died today. There's talk of putting Ronald Regans big head on ten dollar bills, but I'd much rather reach into my wallet and see a smiling Ray Charles looking back at me. What the hell did Regan ever do besides fuel a cold war? Stupid repeblicans. Ray Charles kicked heroins ass, overcame poverty, and even though he was blind, became one of the best pianp players in the world. The guy had soul. The fucker even knew when that little black kid was trying to steal a guitar from off his wall in blues brothers! Regan never did shit like that. This proves my theory that ray charles was really Daredevil. Ben Affleck is a pussy. Where's the multi state c-span 24 hour weird mass viewing funeral for a talented musician? Ah fuck it, I've gone off on another tangent. I've got a plane to catch in the mourning. Next week, I return to Cali....I assure you there will be stories....you'll just have to go to joes journal to read them because I'm a lazy fuck.
I hope you're happy, suckers.....

Tenderly I remain,
Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
8:24 am
a small letter to NJ....
Dear New Jersey,

Fuck off.

Tenderly, I remain


P.S. Hey Mapquest, go fuck yourself.

Oh, and before I go when I was smaller (I don't dare say 'growing up', as it denotes that...well...i'm grown up.) I always thought of marriage as something two people did when they really loved each other. Never once for some odd reason did it occur to me that I was "a union between a MAN and a WOMAN". I always just pegged it for something two PEOPLE did when they really dug the idea of spending the rest of their lives together. Yeah...never thought it was anything but an afirmation of two peoples love for each other...albeit a bad one, but I guess I just never this whole "only and MAN and a WOMAN can marry each other" thing. Not sure why...oh wait, maybe it's because i'm not a BIGOT.
Fuck you George Bush, Gavin Newsom is the MAN!
More crabbiness on the way...I oh so love it when you all complain that I don't update...

Monday, January 26th, 2004
3:26 pm
"Whatever, nine iron...."
Not a full update, because if I don't get to a gym in the next hour, i'll fall apart. Yes, it's possible to fall apart more than I already have over the last three days.
This is an update to let you know about my coming update...

To clear some rumors up:

1.)Yes, my elbow is fucked.
2.)No, that wasn't my four month old child with the Misfits onezie on that I was playing with at the show.
3.)Yes, unfortuanately we did somehow manage to lose Nosawa Saturday night. If you've seen him, please let us know. DO NOT APPROACH HIM

Also in the forth coming update: Slayer! More Monster Garage tomfoolery! Punk babysits four drunks! Stick shift driving on the highway! Your mother!
Up yours, hosers...
Sunday, January 18th, 2004
12:44 am
"...We'll see how smart you are when the K-9 comes"
Thursday January 8th 2004, Baltimore Maryland

Allison Danger picks up the inoccent looking Punk rock wrestling hooligan who hasn't slept on a Wednesday night in the past three months at the Baltimore airport. What follows is their story. Names have been mostly made up due to Punks hatred for officers of "the law"...

So yeah, I let Allison drive my car, and she doesn't crash it, so we celebrate by me getting pulled over for (are you ready for this?).....
:drum roll:
Driving too close to the vehicle in front of me.
At least that's what the very clean cut looking officer who more than likely winds down his hard days "work" by downing a case of beer and beating his wife silly because he's embarassed he can't help his 8 year old with his math homework told me. I was told that I was following one and a half car lengths behind the guy that cut me off, when I was supposed to be following him TWO car lengths.
Officer Douche Mcallister asks me the usual questions, and the entire conversation went exactly like this:

Pig McBlueboy: Do you have anything in the car in the way of drugs or weapons?
Punk: Nope.
PM: Okay, i'm going to go run your license, just sit tight...
Punk: No worries.
::Idiot cop walks back to his car::
...in the meantime, another squad pulls up...
Punk: Figures they'd need two cars for something as stupid as this. I can't believe he's writing me a ticket for something this stupid.
Allison Danger (looking in the side mirror of my car): Um, Punker, I want you to keep calm.
Punk: Huh? I am calm, I just think it's stupid that (Punk sees that the second squad is a K-9 unit) WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?
Allison: Punk, just keep cool!
Punk: Fuck that, I don't....OH...OH! You've got to be kidding me!
::Officer #2 approachs my car with his DRUG DOG::
Punk rolls down passanger side window and yells at cop
::officer does'nt respond::
Punk: Serisouly, are you fucking kidding me? Hey!
::officer starts to knock on Punks car with his hands::
Punk: Okay, Okay! Honestly, you fucking DICK, get the fuck away from my car, or i'll eat your dog.
::Officer #1 approachs Punks car once the dog and officer #2 are dog circling the car::
Officer Dickhead: Can I ask you to step out of the car?
Punk: Absolutely not.
Officer Asshole: Well, I need to explain this to you...
Punk: Do it with me in the car
Officer Bitchass: Well, can you step out of the car...
Punk: Ya know what, fine...
Now this is where it gets fairly hilarious people. I literally step out of the car, and once i'm fully stood up, i'm at least a foot taller than this cop. The look on his face was priceless. He takes a step back, and I shit you not, gulps. I'd imagine i'm horribly frighting looking by this point, because i'm legit furious that this little bullshit profile stop of my car results in a drug dog harassment. He backs up, never taking his eyes off me, and I nearly back him into traffic...
Officer Justshitinhispants: Um...this is your warning.
Punk: Great ::turns to walk away::
Officer Banana Brains: You need to take this, but before I give it to you, what do you want to tell me about what's in your car?
Punk (now turning green): What?
Officer pleasedontkillme: Is there anything in the car you want to tell me about, I'll give you the chance to tell me the truth, why were you in Nashville?
Punk::raising his fists right in the cops face:: What do my knuckles say?!
Cop: Why were you ::gets cut off by a very angry Punk::
a very sad looking police man: Drug free.
Punk: Exactly, so i'm a little offended about the dog right now.
Copper: Um...okay, well, here's your warning, have a nice day
Punk: Go fuck yourself.

Reading this back now, it doen't even do it justice. Allison was sure that I was going to jail due to the way I was freaking out
Every day of my life is like this. Never slowing down, always topping the day before. Life is hard, and I hate politics.
Jimmy Rave is going bald.
Bill Behrens is a sonofabitch.
And I, soon to be the leader of the world, am better than you.
Go play in traffic.
Also, R.I.P Sterling James Keenans girlfriends Iguana.

Current Mood: crushed
Friday, December 26th, 2003
11:54 am
"Good mourning heartache..." and "More scary than two A-teams"
Okay, so I think I did this backwards. I have to catch a plane tonight at 7pm, and i've already had to buy a new bag bue to all the extra stuff i'm bringing back with me in the way of presents and clothes and such. I needed a new carry on gear bag anyway because i'm sick of hauling around my huge two week bag that's mainly for long stays and overseas hootinannys. Also, all the people i've already bought gifts for that i'll see on tomorrows ROH/AJPW show...um...yeah. I have to unwrap all those now so they'll all somehow fit into the little space I have left to pack. It carries over: I'm the worst shopper, terrible wrapper, and this whole not planning ahead thing rears it's ugly head. No worries though.
Tonight, once i'm back in Philly, check out this crew that's already been assembeled to head out and hit the town: Myself, Samoa Joe, Homicide, American Dragon, Puma, and Monsta Mack. Fuckin' A, we're like the A team, but much more violent and cute. Indeed, much more cute. I leave you all now with the tale of my arrival into Chicago a week ago....

I got lucky. I got lucky a whole lot because durning one of the crazy nights out after a TNA show I must've mentioned to a group of people that I was trying to figure out the best way to head to Chicago to see my little sisters for Crimmus. Yes, I got lucky with Tracy Brooks. Whoo! That almost sounds like I got more than a ride from her. Er...wait. Yeah, that sounds bad too. Um...fuck. Whoa! NO! SHIT! I mean that I just traveled to Chicago with her and ODB! Honest. GODDAMNIT! Stop laughing! It's not even the funny part of the story!! Okay, okay, now that i've amused myself enough. Yeah, so Tracy and ODB told me they were going to Minnesota for the holidays, and they offered me a ride to Chicago since it's on the way(for all you geographically retards out there).
So there, that's how I got lucky. No! That's not the story! To make a long story short, when I got to Chicago I stopped in to say hi to my pops. Tracy loves animals so she wanted to run in a see my pops three britany spaniels, Petey, Rowdy, and Stitches (there's another hilarious story about how I named stitches, but i'll tell that somer time. Remind me). So Tracy and I are playing with the dogs, and Rowdy is so excited to see me, he pisses all over me. Indeed. LOTS of piss too. Right down my pants leg. I'm covered in pee, with Tracy pointing and laughing at me, when Stitches, so excited to see Tracys boobs no doubt(stitches is a lesbian), pisses all over Tracy.
You will all never hear the story about us standing around sans pants while I washed the piss from our clothes, however I will let you know the story contains: a black snow man named 'Low ki', two frozen pizzas, and a football helmet filled with cottage cheese.
Luck is for losers.
Piss off.

Current Mood: excited
Wednesday, December 24th, 2003
11:27 pm
"I've got 99 problems..."
We last left our super hero in peril, CM Punk, at the Dallas International airport while he was on his way to Orange County. This is his story of the last few eventful days of his life....it begins behind the facade of this innocent looking Samoan....

Saturday December 13th, 2003--Los Angeles CA--PWG

I haven't slept a full nights sleep in two weeks. The most I've gotten at a single shot is four hours, and I'm just getting over having this bad ass case of the super sleeping Asian cougar flu. I manage two three hour naps on my respective flights from PA to the OC, but I'm still run down. My body is weary!
Joe is punctual with the picking me up because there's things to be done. People need kicking, things need knocking over, and we've already got two parties and some assorted shenanigans lined up for the week. Straight away from the plane, Joe takes me to the 'Green Girl', which is a nice little cozy saloon. We chill, 'cause Joes got made game with all the bar tenders, and I knock back about a dozen glasses of diet Pepsi before we head out for the night. We set off for the PWG show and on the way stop off to join in on yelling, "SUPRISE" at the Chiefs birthday party (the Chief is Joes dad, bitch!). I loved talking to some of Joes uncles, who are the O.G pimp Samoans from back in the day, not to mention the last surviving relative of King Kameameaha who is also a bad ass Judo master.

PWG show was cool. I think the six man I was involved in came together nicely for something that could have been a giant cluster fuck. It's a good feeling when something like that comes together as good as it did, but that's just a testament to the talented workers I shared a ring with that night. And let's not forget Super Dragon either. Also, the meeting of three super heels finally took place as I met the Cubans. You might know them as the Havana Pitbulls, better know as Pansy #1 and his sidekick "girl problems". In what was supposed to be a historic meeting between myself and two people who are practically my stepbrothers in this whirlwind business (due to all being trained by Kevin Quinn), turned into a watered down censored episode of the Muppet Babies cartoon complete with nap times, warm milk, and more excuses than a post match Julio Dinero. You heard me J.R. GET OFF YOUR CELL PHONE!

Hungry for some MORE silliness, we head straight back to the Green Girl (no, not super Dragons house), and party the house down with the girls of the saloon like only two beat up wrestlers know how. Lots of stories, and lots of shots. Yeah motherfucker, the girls didn't want me to feel left out, so they kept pouring me shots of cranberry juice so I could toast with everybody. Look for a hilarious picture of Joe and I holding shot glasses with all the girls coming to a internerd screen near you. I can't wait until the haters and Steve Corino see these pics....

Sunday December 14th, 2003--More Orange County, 'cause life is hard.

"DPC in LBC" and "Cuban Bitch Crisis"

I manage seven hours of sleep before Joe wakes me up and shuffles me out the door for some all you can eat Korean BBQ. That's right, nothing like eating the weight of Steve Corinos head (60 lbs.!!) in meat for breakfast!!!! Bloated and wondering why the Cubans didn't show up after they said they'd be there, we head back to the compound for some rest. We thought it odd that the Cubans no showed our invite seeing as they claim to love Korean BBQ, but we just chalked it up to the Sunday mourning history channel documentary on the menstrual cycle and figured they were probably glued to that. Against better judgment, also against my wishes, Joe shoots them another invite for later in the night to attend the Sharron Osbourne celebrity auction with us. Myself and Joe chill at the Green Girl and giggle as the Cubans no show us again. Perhaps if all the bartenders were GUYS in bikinis, they'd show up.....

Eh, no worries. We receive a call letting us know that the auction is the shits anyway, and although my hopes of starting a bidding war with a lame ass Nu-metal, Ozzfest reject are temporarily dashed, we waste no time trying to figure out a plan B.

Welcome to plan B:

Joe calls some people, and we are told to get down to the club Ibiza POST HASTE (that means fast, retard). Straight to hell with the three block long line of well dressed yuppies waiting to get in, we walk right through the front door. Also, I'm dressed like a bum, but what else is new? Straight away, I know this isn't an ordinary night at a club. I mean, I guess I really didn't know any better because I don't go to clubs, but how many clubs have a high priced free buffet, I asked myself. We both started to take notice of many of the high profile looking women. All seemed to be...well...let's say, "enhanced", wearing high heels or thigh high boots, hair up like a school dance, skirts cut low, and cleavage galore. Now picture us standing in the middle of all this. Joe on one side of me, admits what we can only imagine is some sort of hooker convention, as we slow turn towards each other as the DJ says the following words into the house mic (short for microphone, jerk): "Ladies and gentlemen, WELcome to the Spearmint Rhino PRIVATE christmas party 2003!!!!!"
Yes, yes, I'm aware. I know how there's lots of you that hate both Joe and I. We never plan ahead. We never do what's right. Right when you think we're down and out, we scrape by without a scratch, and yes...YES motherfuckers of all ages, shit like this...the private christmas party of the WORLDS largest chain of "adult" clubs falls into our lap on a daily basis. Some call it luck, but that's for losers. We call it life, and life is hard. SO, with a new added spring in our step, we check out coats and dial up the Cubans one last time because there's nothing they love more that strip clubs. Except for the movie Beaches, they LOVE that shit! Them not answering their phones not only can't stop Joe and I from absolutely wrecking this place, but it solidifies the rumor that every Sunday night the dress up like Archie and Edith Bunker and tickle fight each other until they pee. On each other.
:::Back to the club:::
Joe and I make our way around just checking everything out and are amused that not only are the Lakers there, some of the Clippers are walking around, and half of Team Punishment including Chuck Lidell are in attendance. Awesome! Every girl seems to have brought her sugar daddy. It's so painfully obvious when these clowns were twice their age, and were all carrying cameras around their necks like it was their daughters family high school graduation party. I split to find a bathroom, which I can't find, and then consequently can't find Joe. I continue to search and unbeknowst to me, walked directly into the little super VIP room. There was this awesome little DJ girl spinning and it seemed like it was 100 degrees in this little joint. I don't know if it was because of the way I was dressed, or I was mistaken for somebody, but I wound up on stage and for some reason was coaxed into singing along/rapping "Rappers Delight". The. Entire. Song.
Now, with a very strange amount of stripper girls trying to follow me out, I run into Joe and he's fucking salsa dancing with practically the entire female race. He's a PEE EYE EM PEE! Now, I think at this point we were both so blown up, and at the breaking point that we needed to leave. Thank Jeebus they stopped all the music for their lame "entertainer" of the year awards. That was our cue, and we were gone...

Monday December 15th, 2003--Los Angeles

Monday was a fairly normal day, even by our standards. We were running on no sleep from the night before, but our eagerness to rub it all in the ugly faces of the Cubans kept us very alert. We hit the New Japan dojo and got a an awesome workout in with Puma and one of the Cubans. Notice how the other one didn't show. Fuck, also notice how I can't tell 'em apart, so I'll call one Bert, and one Ernie. Bert showed up, so points for him, but that doesn't excuse his blatant disrespect from the night before. All was made well at the curry reasturaunt when a fan approached our table and told Joe and I that he loved our work, but had no clue who the hell Bert was. ZING!
Ahhhhhh yes...the blur that was the rest of the night included wasting many an hour at the Green Girl, eating a small fortune in sushi, and we may or may not have cause a major traffic jam with a rubberband and an old LJN King Kong Bundy action figure.....

Tuesday December 16th, 2003--Orange County (and that's in California for those of you who aren't paying any attention)

"I used to play ball" or
"You should try to look like your picture"

Due to an early rise on this fine day, we crashed early the night before, and early for us is maybe 3 in the am. The hard lives we lead called upon us this day to be TV stars. DAMN THE SKY!!!!! Both Joe and I taped a lot of fine shenanigans for the TV show Monster Garage. Check back here for when it'll air, and I guarantee you won't be disappointed as my portrayal as a disgruntled Uhaul worker. I'd like to thank Uhaul for all the free hats, shirts, food and other assorted items that may or may have not been free for the taking. Monster Garage for the work, and the donuts. I'd also like to thank the local wrestling valet that stabbed me in the face with her fake nail during the battle royal segment we taped, drawing a decent amount of blood from my face. Idiot.
I would also like to thank a one Christopher Daniels for calling me on my cell phone right as we began to tape the battle royal to ask me my opinions of what he got AJ Styles for christmas. THAT'LL look hilarious if that makes the final cut.
My final night out in the O.C. consisted of Joe and I putting over "Bad Santa", and loving every heelish, swear filled, dirty moment of it. I hate Billy Bob Thorton, but this movie is golden due to everybody heeling the shit out of everybody else. We then met up with Cuban Ernie and spent the rest of the night telling some great stories in the Green Girl.
Yeah, basically the entire week, I spent way too much time in a bar. Oh, and ya know something else? I may have carpal tunnel now. I hope you're happy.
Fuck christmas.

Current Mood: predatory
Monday, December 22nd, 2003
4:14 am
"The bastard father of internet cruelty"
What you should all know right now is that i'm in the middle of what i've named "Crimmus tour 2003", and i'm in Chicago. I've hit roughly 7 or 9 states in the past week and a half.
Also, you're lives will be much more enriched to know that the computer i'm on likes to crash more Ray Charles behind the wheel of a bumper car, so the ongoing saga that is my current commentary update about Cali, strippers, Monster Garage, gay Cubans, Mint Chocolate chip icecream, boxer shorts and a soaking wet 300 bucks, wrestler court, NWA:TNA, run-on sentences, my lack of using spell check due to my utter laziness, and the fact that i'm the bastard father of internet cruelty because everybody and their mother (the boss as well) now likes to indulge in burying everybody and anything in their journal updates while using liberal doses of my piss and vinegar "up yours" writing style, ::DEEP BREATH::, will be up sometime soon when I get in front of a functioning 'puter.
'puter is short for computer, pig.
Also, we'll discuss my giant ego, and how I just put myself over as the KING of the motherfucking journal entry.
I love oatmeal cookies.

Current Mood: restless
4:00 am
"The bastard father of internet cruelty"
What you should all know right now is that i'm in the middle of what i've named "Crimmus tour 2003", and i'm in Chicago. I've hit roughly 7 or 9 states in the past week and a half.
Also, you're lives will be much more enriched to know that the computer i'm on likes to crash more Ray Charles behind the wheel of a bumper car, so the ongoing saga that is my current commentary update about Cali, strippers, Monster Garage, gay Cubans, Mint Chocolate chip icecream, boxer shorts and a soaking wet 300 bucks, wrestler court, NWA:TNA, run-on sentences, my lack of using spell check due to my utter laziness, and the fact that i'm the bastard father of internet cruelty because everybody and their mother (the boss as well) now likes to indulge in burying everybody and anything in their journal updates while using liberal doses of my piss and vinegar "up yours" writing style, ::DEEP BREATH::, will be up sometime soon when I get in front of a functioning 'puter.
'puter is short of computer, pig.
Also, we'll discuss my giant ego, and how I just put myself over as the KING of the motherfucking journal entry.
I love oatmeal cookies.

Current Mood: restless
Saturday, December 13th, 2003
12:27 pm
"Fuck the Parrot Bay Cafe" and "Many things to come"
So as I sit here in the Dallas international airport, trying to recant the last couple weeks of my life to myself, I thought i'd let you all know that i'm really annoyed that I just told my waiter at this Texas bar and grill that I only wanted fries with my order if they came as a side. I didn't want to pay extra for fries I didn't really want. Yup. You guessed it, I did. Two bucks for fries I didn't eat. No worries, and yes, I still tipped him. Shit just annoys me.
Speaking of really horrible service, i've got a good story from last night that involves Raven,myself, warm shrimp and a very drunk bar owner. Fuck the Parrot Bay Cafe. My plane is about to board, so i'll update and entertain you with that, and other stories at a later date. Mostly about Chris Daniels and myself winning 300 dollars in a "Boxer short jaccuzzi contest", and the wrestler court that was called due to said shennanigans.
I love me some shennanigans.
Off to Oragne County I go.

Current Mood: cynical
Wednesday, November 26th, 2003
1:43 am
"Destruction leaves an empty space" or "TANKsgiving"
Ah, thanksgiving. I refuse to capitalize that. Sixth year i'll be on the road. Great time a year, when suddenly everybody is giving thanks for this or that. I give thanks year round. I suggest you do the same. Don't wait for a certain time of year, and certainly don't wait for some bullshit holiday to "give thanks" or be nice to people. You can make soup for bums in July too ya know. Ya know how everybody is always praying to the man in the sky, saying things like "please, I just want to be happy". Junk like that? Well fuck you, pig. I say go make yourself happy. I don't pray to a man in the sky, and I pretty much just want to be alive. I don't ask for shit from anybody. I love life. Seriously. Few people really know how much I love life. I mean, "life is hard", is my new quote and all, but you really gotta know me to understand what it is i'm saying. I love it all. Being miserable rules, 'cause i'm still above ground. It's all a gift. A gift you get once, enjoy it. Enjoy love, sorrow, pain, joy...all of it. It's a gift, and it's not from some man in the sky.
This weekend (and sucks for YOU that my weekend starts tomorrow in Nashville), I intend to have the time of my life, 'cause life is hard.

So yeah, there's MY weird cryptic entry for the day.
Let me end with this: Sometimes other people write things or say things and it captures exactly how I feel at that particular moment (or maybe i'm too lazy to write it myself). Today, it's the Bouncing Souls....

Night Train

Goodbye to me and you.
Goodbye to the life we knew.
One last long embrace.
Let go and walk on through.

I'm leaving everything behind for a peace that I can't find.
The ghosts that roam this house
like winter air right through our souls.
And it feels like dying.
It just feels like time to go.

Goin down south to dream another dream.
Maybe check out Memphis, Tennessee.
Take the night train and an extra pair of jeans.
Can't think of anything else I really need.
And all my experiences ride with me.

This town is dead to me.
And I can't stop chasing my dreams.
I love you more than anything,
but what you want I could never be.
I love you more than anything,
but only alone can we both be free.

Goodbye to me and you.
Goodbye to the life we knew.
Wipe the tears from your eyes.
Let go and walk on through.

Saturday, November 15th, 2003
11:51 am
The greatest place on earth....
Samoas Joes compound. THE greatest place i've ever been to.
So far, i've seen a parade of hula dancers, took a ride on a mechanical bull, and i've eaten more food than most people eat in a week.
"How's the view from sugar heaven, bitch!"
Wednesday, November 12th, 2003
12:59 am
My turn...
"My turn"

Well folks, even sometimes I break rules. Today, I break rule number 411. I will talk about somebody, more importantly a subject, and will inturn, give said person undeserved press. COMPLETELY undeserved press, but I gotta be me...I gotta get this off my chest....
The following is from an interview that Teddy Annis recently conducted on an internerd radio show. I will post his half retarded comments in italics, then I will post the truth.

He thinks the ROH match that he was involved in was one of best matches ever in wrestling. He says that the match was great and the cheers from the fans had his adrenaline rushing. He had a little left in the tank after the match so he did not think that the fans got all of their money's worth from Ted which is why he did the extra moves. He had a concussion after the match, but he is not using that as an excuse.

Not using the "concussion" as an excuse. Let's examine that statement, shall we Mr. Annis? Who called the ROH office 17 times the day after saying that you had no recollection of the match? You didn't even remember doing your post match antics the day after the show, NOW suddenly, "the crowd didn't get their monies worth". You're a liar, also, a bad one. Want proof folks? Teddys daddy called and said he had a concussion and couldn't fly out, while Teddy himself was on the other line saying he missed his flight because he was stuck in traffic. D'oh! Other highlights of the 17 phone calls is Teddys dad calling trying to get his job in ROH back, saying he could be the "new Brian Pillman". Brian Pillman as the loose cannon worked because it was believable that he could hurt somebody. You, my sad little friend, just annoy the shit out of people.

He did a 30 foot moonsault off the cage to the floor. He also did a shooting star press onto 3 guys and did a backflip off the ropes as a tribute to his uncle, the late Owen Hart. He states that anyone who has seen him in Calgary knows that he does the backflip tribute at the beginning and end of every one of his matches, win, lose or draw. The hosts say that they respect that he wanted to do a tribute, but ask how he can justify doing that in light of what was asked from him in the match.

This is where I could absolutely kill you. Owen Hart, fucking rest his soul, NEVER no sold a fucking thing in his life. You had just been in a CAGE MATCH. Summer Slam '94, Bret vs. Owen. Awesome cage match. NO MOONSAULT. A good tribute for you to do for Owen would be to sell your boots on Ebay, you knuckle head. Better yet, just swallow some jacks. This business is dangerous enough. We, the boys, risk out lives enough. We don't need a kid like you putting any of us in harms way more than we already are. All your post match bullshit was to get yourself over and ANY cost. You put "the three guys" you did a shooting star onto in SO much danger because they had no clue it was coming. You put yourself first, and others in danger, THIS, is why i'm even responding to all of this.

He believes people are jealous of the moves he can do.

You're seriously retarded.

When asked who these people are, he responds that Steve Corino did a shoot interview insulting him and calling him a goof. Teddy said when he saw Steve he shook his hand and said he would let it go. Corino responded why and that "you are a goof". He also cites how AJ Styles gave him a list of moves not do to do.
Teddy feels this is unfair as AJ didn't invent the moves in question. He doesn't feel that he should be handcuffed and that he must give the fans everything he has. He does not believe the business has to work in such a manner and cites guys doing jobs to Goldberg and HHH as proof.

Hm...where to begin. AJ Styles may not have invented the moves in question, but he's been in TNA doing them for over a year. Any worker with a brain (i.e. NOT you) wouldn't walk into a WWE ring a start handing out pedigrees, so why would you use the spiral tap on an NWA PPV? I approached you after your match with Juvi and explained to you that AJ used the spiral tap, and you might want to talk to him about it in the future, and you just gave me your blank retard stare and said, "I invented that". Did you invent being stupid too? Seriously, just asking. These guys that've done jobs for goldberg, did they use the Jackhammer? Teddy, really, please. Give the the names of the wrestlers that used the legdrop as a finish in the WWE from 1983 to the present.....douche.

He says that the locker room can't just band together and refuse to do a job. The promoter should step in and say that Ted Hart puts asses in seats.

I have no idea what you're talking about. I'd pay good money to bet that neither do you.

Teddy sed to work at KFC and says that you can't tell your boss there you're only giving 50%. He says that if a fan spends $50 on a ticket to see Ted Hart they are going to get their money's worth. There is no option for him to only give 50%. He says if he was working under contract to Vince it would be different, but on the indy scene he can't understand holding back. He says that Rob Feinstein left the door open for him to do this as he told him that if the fans cheered his name then go with it. He believes a lot of the guys who were angry at him are just jealous and everyone knows his only plan is to go to WWE.

Teddy, I was there. The fans were not chanting "PLEASE CLIMB TO THE TOP OF THE CAGE AND DO THREE UNPLANNED SPOTS PUTTING EVERYBODY WHO HAS TO BREAK KAYFABE AND RUN TO CATCH YOU IN HARMS WAY". It's a catchy chant, but it didn't happen. Also, your plan...you ONLY plan is to go to the WWE, perhaps you forgot that you were already there. And you got fired. Idiot.

People who try and blackball him only add more fuel to his fire. He is there to please the fans and not the boys even though the boys have his life in their hands. If they drop him on his head then so be it. He won't stop because 5-6 guys who shouldn't be lacing up boots don't like him. He can't believe he isn't allowed to compete on an equal level because some guys do the same moves as him.

I don't believe for one second you have a fire. You don't love this business Listen to the things you say. Look at the things you do. You give no fuck about the boys, our well being. You only care about yourself. I can only hope that i'm one of the six guys that "shouldn't lace up boots", because then I did my job as one of the ROH locker room leaders. I can't say it enough, no excuse in the world can help you: You put some of the boys in a really horrible potentially dangerous position, and then you cry about being "blackballed". You whine about "not being able to compete on an equal level", and truthfully, that's nobodies fault but your own. Learn some etiquette.

If God wants him to make it in the WWE, then he will. He says there is a reason God lets him do 30 foot moonsaults.

There is no god, and the cage wasn't 30 feet.

Teddy is 23 years old and partially attributes people's jealousy to his age and that they don't have the same creativity and athleticism and feel challenged because they're not willing to follow the standards he sets. He says that we would still have communist countries if people weren't willing to take a chance. Sir A stops him as he states that the hosts don't read the newspapers and drink a lot. Teddy doesn't drink or smoke and compares himself to a preacher.

American Dragon is 22, and one humble motherfucker for how good he is. Nobody is jealous of you, the standard you set is a creepy little no selling troll that wears sunglasses in doors, and changes outfits four times before a show, mainly due to your insecurity as a person. Oh...Teddy? We still do have communist countries, dunce. Oh, and I won't mention the fact that you were asking people where you could score some pot while you were at TNA because you don't smoke.

Teddy is the only one of the Harts who was never stretched by Stu.

...Which is readily recognized from your lack of discipline. Learn how to sell.

So there's your extra press for the day Mr. Annis. No worries though, if it gets you anywhere, i'd bet my life and 100 dollars that you'd find a way to ruin it for yourself with your out of control ego as well as your piss poor attitude. There is no conspiracy, nobody is trying to blackball you. We're just looking out for our friends safety as well as ours. We're just looking out for the product we all believe in, because it's US that want to give the fans a good show. We're just policing our locker room from a cancer that has no business in a business that he acts like he knows all about, but knows so little. We're just protecting our business.

Current Mood: aggravated
Saturday, November 8th, 2003
12:31 am
Doubt fucks everything.
Take a foundation, no matter how strong, sprinkle generously with doubt, and watch it crumble.
Me? I'm unfuckwithable.
Not this knee, not bad weather, and certainly not the many men that wish bad intentions on me can stop me.
I rise up, not like a phoenix, but like the zombie corpse of Dick Murdoch.
This brainbuster is for you.

P.S...mega commentary forth coming.
Thursday, November 6th, 2003
9:38 pm
I miss you already bro.
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