image credit: rohwrestling.com A little secret to let you in on, dear readers: I have a devastating crush on Dalton Castle. I haven’t written anything about him thus far, because where do you even begin to describe a wrestler so sublime? As you know, I’m fairly prolific on the topic of professional wrestling, but I find myself without words enough to express the feelings when someone so thoroughly steals my heart. This is not the…
Category: Fangirl Ramblings
I wrote this just a couple months after the Shield broke up, back when it was impossible not to fall madly, desperately in love with Dean Ambrose. He was the best thing ever ever ever to happen to professional wrestling, and the people who read this post at the time told me they thought so too. So much inauthentic narrative snafu would then send me into an embittered phase where I could barely even stand…
I’ve been working on keeping my cool. Not letting disappointments bring me crashing down, maintaining a consistent vibe when everything goes into a tailspin. I also caught a spoiler that Kevin Owens lost to John Cena as I was running about an hour behind in my watching of Battleground, so I was prepared for the unfortunate eventuality. Kevin Owens’ #1 fangirl here didn’t riot when Cena won, because I’m practicing non-attachment, rising above the fray,…
I once had a secret little email friendship with a cute wrestler who went by the name Tekniq. His regular gimmick was kind of a mini-Matt Hardy: black t-shirt and stylishly-flared white pants, mildly alternative but relatively clean cut. He had icy blue laser beam eyes, and sometimes also wrestled in a yellow luchador mask as “Papi Chulo”. Oh yeah, Tekniq’s finishing move was a “619” (but it was Vegas so we called it a…
After last night, Dean Ambrose might be my favorite wrestler of all time. Oh, the hilarity! I am hopelessly in love. That man is a brilliant character. I thank the gods he did not go softly into the lunatic fringe. I will say I was concerned — he was on the verge of becoming a one dimensional madman, and wrestling has a history of turning promising characters into simplistic types. But suddenly he appeared composed,…
A markish confession: the biggest reason I’ll never turn on John Cena is his entrance music. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a vaguely ethnic-sounding intro with a hook featuring horns. The trilling guy who says something in Spanish I can’t quite catch is pretty rousing as well. So the trilling guy and the horns do their thing, and I’m all primed to be excited about whoever comes out on stage. I will…
A couple of months after 9/11, I lined up for over an hour in Times Square at “The World” (then WWF’s now defunct restaurant) to get Diamond Dallas Page’s autograph during a period when my markish zeal was burning particularly hot. Cute boy Christian (back then still working on his solo gimmick, trying to get over by throwing hissy fits in the ring if somebody kept kicking out of his pin) had actually been the…