Monthly Archives: June 2007
Being loserish of nature I watched the press conference from Georgia about the Benoit family “situation”…
Holy fuck… binding your wife, wrapping her in towels and strangling her before leaving a bible by her feet? Smothering your son and leaving a bible next to where he lay? Then making your way downstairs away from the bodies of your family members and hanging yourself sans bible from the cord on your weights machine?
Words escape me.
Where previously the WWE website was covered with tributes to Benoit, now they’ve removed all references to him and put up one simple statement- They’ve removed almost EVERY other mention of his name, no merchandise, no mention of his matches on any of the DVDs.
Of course, the reporters wanted to know if it was down to steroids, was it steroids, was he on steroids, did you find steroids… Can no-one accept that he just lost his mind?
It just gets worse…
I’m not saying the deaths of the Benoits are in any way related to him being a wrestler. I just thought i’d post this list. I think it’s important, in that it makes what is considered throwaway “sports entertainment” appear serious, in that it is a problem that needs to be addressed. Again, this is whether Chris Benoit’s occupation had anything to do with the murders or not, I was just reminded.
Famous Wrestlers That Have Died Since 1985 Before the Age of 65
Chris Von Erich – 21
Mike Von Erich – 23
Louie Spiccoli – 27
Art Barr – 28
Gino Hernandez – 29
Jay Youngblood – 30
Rick McGraw – 30
Joey Marella – 30
Ed Gatner – 31
Buzz Sawyer – 32
Crash Holly – 32
Kerry Von Erich – 33
D.J. Peterson – 33
Eddie Gilbert – 33
The Renegade – 33
Owen Hart – 33
Chris Candido – 33
Adrian Adonis – 34
Gary Albright – 34
Bobby Duncum Jr. – 34
Yokozuna – 34
Big Dick Dudley – 34
Brian Pillman – 35
Marianna Komlos – 35
Pitbull #2 – 36
The Wall/Malice – 36
Leroy Brown – 38
Mark Curtis – 38
Eddie Guerrero – 38
Davey Boy Smith – 39
Johnny Grunge – 39
Vivian Vachon – 40
Jeep Swenson – 40
Brady Boone – 40
Terry Gordy – 40
Bertha Faye – 40
Billy Joe Travis – 40
Chris Benoit – 40
Larry Cameron – 41
Rick Rude – 41
Randy Anderson – 41
Bruiser Brody – 42
Miss Elizabeth – 42
Big Boss Man – 42
Earthquake – 42
Mike Awesome – 42
Ray Candy – 43
Nancy Benoit (Woman) – 43
Dino Bravo – 44
Curt Hennig – 44
Bam Bam Bigelow – 45
Jerry Blackwell – 45
Junkyard Dog – 45
Hercules – 45
Andre the Giant – 46
Big John Studd – 46
Chris Adams – 46
Mike Davis – 46
Hawk – 46
Dick Murdoch – 49
Jumbo Tsuruta – 49
Rocco Rock – 49
Sherri Martel – 49
Moondog Spot – 51
Ken Timbs – 53
Uncle Elmer – 54
Pez Whatley – 54
Eddie Graham – 55
Tarzan Tyler – 55
Haystacks Calhoun- 55
Giant Haystacks – 55
The Spoiler – 56
Kurt Von Hess – 56
Moondog King – 56
Gene Anderson – 58
Dr. Jerry Graham – 58
Bulldog Brown – 58
Tony Parisi – 58
Rufus R. Jones – 60
Ray Stevens – 60
Stan Stasiak – 60
Terry Garvin – 60
Boris Malenko – 61
Little Beaver – 61
Sapphire – 61
Shohei Baba – 61
Dick the Bruiser – 62
Wilbur Snyder – 62
George Cannon – 62
Karl Krupp – 62
Dale Lewis – 62
Gorilla Monsoon – 62
Hiro Matsuda – 62
Bad News Brown – 63
Bulldog Brower – 63
Wahoo McDaniel – 63
His wife Nancy and seven year old son gone too…
Even by the standards of wrestling this is un-fuckin’-believable… :(
[source image courtesy Uncle Jesz]
Taken from Pantone Matching by [Insert Agency Name]
Life is dull here at Casa Monky; still no job, no job prospects until September; not been up to anything of interest. Have been writing (attempting to write) three classes worth of Year 7 reports. Have watched four series of Trailer Park Boys. Have become totally convinced it’s one of the best shows evah. Stripper shoes are permanently out-of-stock. Three weeks until unemployment.
After being called “too skinny to fit into skinny jeans” at work (I told them to shut up) I am convinced that I am getting more podgy, and it’s not even in a hormonal way. The cellulite appears to be spreading. Humph. Aand I know that cellulite is the natural way for humans to store fat but still, I go humph. I’m just having a fat week.
I’d love to have someone run their fingers along the meandering silvery marks, but alas staying under the duvet with Patrick is about as exciting as it gets at the mo.
P.S. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, you gorgeous Asteroidea.
For a good while now i’ve harboured a strange desire to own a pair of stripper shoes. You know the sort- towering platforms with deadly heels and thick, man crushing soles. Shoes to put me on a pedestal, shoes to make me appear an Amazon over the tiny men (i’d be approaching 6 foot). Hahaha. Anyway. I think this perverted desire was awakened by the following photo:
Awesome. £340. Not so awesome.
Whilst window shopping with Leia Ewok Village (who is happily feeling happier) I spied the following monstrosities:
I immediately fell for these horrors and even though they were ridiculously expensive I was left feeling rather let down when I found that they didn’t have any in my size. This set me off on a hunt for a pair of stripper-esque shoes- Stripper shoes proper are about half the price of the Kurt Geiger Crackle’s shown above; although I could order online and see what happens, I think I need to take a trip into Lahndahn tahn to try a pair on.
I quite like these matte black ones from the ever fabulous Stockings HQ… They are not overly scary (only 5.5 inches of heel) and are cheap enough to give away if they didn’t fit… I am rapidly approaching unemployment (another job given away before the closing date) and am trying to save for this; a pair of stupid shoes would be my one extravagance this month.
You can actually get platforms with space for tips and a slot for the coinage in the sole. How convenient. Though I imagine that if you were a popular gal it might get quite difficult to kick your legs in the air when trying to mount the pole so to speak.
Italian purple kidskin lovelies
I think the matte black pair are the ones for me… again they’re something i’d love to wear out with some bright red lipstick, a fine pair of stockings and scarlet hair piled high with someone who can run their hand the three inches along my leg it takes to turn me on.
I miss being taken out and shown a good time, being appreciated. I’ve never been swept off my feet- although I can say I have always enjoyed the several times i’ve been slung over someone’s shoulder…
I have seen MW#1 more frequently of late- well he has seen me more than once every three months- and I feel (strangely) like I have been bonding with him. I think this is because he’s been holding me and massaging me which boosts my feelings of well being. So currently I feel happier, even though not much has changed. Mmmm… massage…
I am now installed on Facebook. I know- I said i’d never join… but what can I say- I’m an admitted hypocrite. So there.
Hooray for Friday,
So i’m at the mid-point of my week home alone. What have I accomplished?
I have wandered around the house naked and semi-clothed;
I put things in the recycling box out front wearing only vest and pants, with my modesty semi-preserved with my lacy wrap (so still could see my underwear);
I have spent entire days away from my computer watching TV clad in only my underwear;
I have watered the nascent garden in my underwear; (you can see underwear plays an important role here)
I have re-dyed my hair;
I have taken over the entire fridge;
I have burnt myself with hot rice;
I have had to hoover the kitchen floor and the cooker after a rice containment crisis;
I have tidied my room (!!!);
I have received hours of head and back massaging from MW#1…
Why he does it I don’t know- I guess he likes the feel of me and enjoys making me squirm? All I can say is that massages and the man himself should probably be made illegal as I feel faaaar too good when he’s done with me.
Yes, my clothes are all skew-iff and I can barely see through my newly voluminous avant-garde hair but through the mess there’s always an exceptionally happy expression plastered across my face.
It’s wrong that I get such enjoyment. Sigh.
This blog is four years old… how time passes.
Not that i’m writing about anything different- Still complaining about the same old crapola. Still, this online diary has been far more successful than any paper copy i’ve tried to keep, so I suppose in that way this site is an accomplishment of sorts.
Home alone for an entire week… I will try to do as many sans housemate things as I can-
wander about unclothed
wander about in my underwear
take up the entire sofa…
I am particularly enamoured of I’ve Seen That Face Before:
So I spent the better part of one week spazzing about the inspection. Across the two days they were here, Her Majesty’s Inspector saw me teaching for all of 15 seconds. Stress, greasyness, wicked lack of sleep… for 15 seconds. When they did stick their head in it was just as a Year 7 asked “Miss, are you mental?” To which I replied “Some of the time yes, but not all of the time.” Result.
I suppose it’s better than being observed for an hour then being told you’re inadequate, but I feel there was a lot of fuss for nowt. So I will be spending this weekend recuperating I think.
I should try and make some headway at sorting myself out physically. I seem to be permanently dehydrated and lurch from zero or little food 7.30am-5pm to big plate of whatever as soon as I get home from school, which leads to me going into a food coma and me being unable to do whatever work I need to do. Not right.
Alas, to fix myself I need to have a job where I get to have more than 10 minutes break and hot food delivered to my staffroom door. I also need Dean Winchester to take me for a long, hard ride in the Impala. Chances of improved health or Dean-o making me happy in a cheap motel? SLIM.
Bollocks. Ofsted are coming this week on Wednesday and Thursday. Oh dear…
On Friday I met up with Leia Ewok Village for our monthly “dinner dates”- I suggested that we wear stupid shoes and meet up once a month to bitch and to take turns paying. This was evening number two…
I had to make my way round a flock of immigration po-lice in the town centre- outfitted in plain clothes and not-so-plain stab vests; they cut an odd sight amongst the usual day-glo fuzz that you usually see.
Leia was feeling somewhat blue about a few things in her life so I spent an evening being Doktor Monky and listening to her woes. We drank some and bitched some- Thai wine anyone? I slagged off work and being unemployed and regaled her with the tale of hi-larity that was waking up with MW#1 on a work day… :D Oh, and I also ate an excellent dinner, that I didn’t have to pay for woo! I hope she is feeling better about things and I hope I was of some help… all we can do is wait and see.
I spent Saturday enjoying tasty barbecue and taking part in a Star Wars marathon- all six films in one go. I came in at Revenge of the Sith and gave up after the scoundrel scene in Empire, so I didn’t really last too long but i’m a wuss, what can I say. I found Revenge quite upsetting in parts- I got all choked up when Anakin got charcoaled and Luke and Leia made their first appearance… loser…
I have an unpleasant desire to make a metal bikini costume. Unfortunately, I will never wear a bikini in public ever ever ever so it is a fairly pointless exercise to start on- which makes it all the more likely i’d do it. I have no-one to appreciate me in said theatrical get up… and i’d have to shed five inches in height and about five kilograms in composition… but one day I will make my metal bikini…
In other news, The Rock has separated from his wife. Now, I should be rejoicing over this- because, obviously, the first thing he is going to do is kick my front door in, sling me over his shoulder and fly me off to Hawai’i- but I felt a little sad for him and his family. They seemed happy and solid and she was a smart woman (hooray), so I suppose that’s why I did not get on the speed dial (Rock, The) straight away. Got to give him some space.
Eugh… back to the kids tomorrow :( Only another five weeks to go…
The Graffiti Report Card
Harris, Calvin – I Created Disco
Clearly my years of emotional suffering are just good practice… (heh)
“The key to a happy relationship could be accepting that some miserable times are unavoidable, experts say.
Therapists from California State University and Virginia Tech University say accepting these problems is better than striving for perfection. And they blame cultural fairytales and modern love stories for perpetuating the myth that enjoying a perfect relationship is possible.”
BBC Misery: The secret to happiness
Of course, all these years of pain will probably shorten my lifespan, as will incessant maceration of my fingernails and complete lack of exercise other than Box, but at least all my nail-biting and thumb sucking will keep me relatively slender. Well, hooray.