You know what I’m really enjoying about #Raw lately? All the Cody Rhodes and Goldust my heart can handle. Amanda, you may ask, does Goldust really do much for you? Well the answer, my compadres, is yes. Though I’m not sure why, and it’s probably in the same way that David Bowie as Jareth in Labyrinth gives me a weird feeling in my stomach that I don’t quite understand.
Seriously though, I’m really glad Cody Rhodes is finally getting some heat. And it’s great to see Goldust back. Frankly, I didn’t expect that to happen, and I definitely didn’t expect Dustin Runnels to come back with such a nice physique. He looks more badass than ever; his makeup no longer makes me uncomfortable because I’m attracted to him, it more makes me uncomfortable because he looks quite serious business crazy. His face makeup designs are great.
I also am very much enjoying Stephanie McMahon lately. That’s a sentence I never saw myself uttering, or typing I suppose, but I have to give the woman some credit; she is definitely her father’s daughter. She’s a natural at playing the big evil bossman and I’m really enjoying disliking her so much.
All in all, I hope they all kiss and let me watch.
A month or two ago I had the privilege of meeting two former WWE wrestlers. One, the former tag team partner of my one true love, Bret Hart. The other, the son of Davey Boy Smith, and nephew to my one true love, Bret Hart. It was magical.
I have never been more sorry to have attended a wrestling event with my significant other more than I was that day. Other than the time I met Bret Hart, of course.
I wanted to smell him to see if he still smelled like Bret Hart.
All it took was a beard. And probably some kind words to Bret Hart. Also probably that black tank top. And probably the jeans and the look that if I met him in person he’d ignore me, then flick a cigarette in my direction, sending me into a downward spiral of love and stalking.
Long story short, this beard does things for my nether regions that Shawn’s stripper moves once did for me when I was thirteen, with a similar outcome as I still find myself confused and aroused and uncertain what to do with my body.
Nobody deserves it more. The Hitman is pure class.
PS I watched it and cried. For both happiness for Bret Hart and sadness for myself because I will never marry him.
My vagina called and it wants you to come over for some tea and Downton Abbey later today. She thinks the two of you could do beautiful #Fandangoing together. Okay, maybe not beautiful, maybe more nervous and awkward, and probably bumpy and sweaty, but it would certainly be adequate Fandangoing.
I am pretty sure that Dolph Ziggler wins everything ever because of his choice of wrestling attire.