Hello again, lovelies! My apologies for not being able to write last week’s column. As you know, Brandon and I attended National Pro Wrestling Day in Philadelphia, and traveling took away any opportunity to write. A few things:
– National Pro Wrestling Day, despite having some brief, gross, unpleasantness (I’m looking at you, Resistance Pro), was a wonderful experience full of great wrestling, hanging with old and new Wrestling Bros, sharing Halloween costume photos with Dasher Hatfield, and somehow becoming Kobald’s Valentine. Jervis Cottonbelly, the World’s Sweetest Man, was also there, and if any of you know anything about me, it’s that I was elated to indulge in some Gentlemania. If you haven’t checked it out, I encourage everyone to purchase it here, and get a taste of something wonderful we got to be a part of.
– Speaking of lovely masked fellows, you should head on over to The Wrestling Blog, where I wrote a thing you should read.
– Do you like the Social Media? Do you understand it better than Hulk Hogan? Why not follow me on Twitter? Or perhaps With Leather and/or UPROXX for all of your entertainment needs? There is a 27% chance we will tweet a picture of Brooke Hogan’s legs, and only a 3% chance we’ll get defensive about it.
– As always, comments, likes, tweets, shares, and tumbls are always appreciated. This may not be the best show or the best report, but if you’re desperately curious as to what I do to procrastinate, hoo boy you best get to reading!
This week on Impact: We’re (not so) live in the UK! Some boring stuff happens, tumbleweeds drift by, something you won’t ever remember probably happens, and then something happens THAT WILL SHAKE ME TO MY VERY CORE.
Worst: Oh god, this episode
Here’s a list of things I did either during Impact or afterwards to procrastinate, because trying to write about this episode was the pits. Please feel free to enjoy it as you would a John Hughes montage set to, I dunno, Blue Peter or something.
– Made myself a mini pizza. It was delicious.
– Went through a bunch of Ask Chris questions on Twitter because I am a good and helpful friend
– Creeped on all of the photos someone has posted to Facebook (for science, obvs)
– Practiced drawing angry manga eyes
– Tried to think of wrestling-related Valentine puns (feel free to contribute in the comments!)
– Had a pretend lightsabre duel with the Christmas tree we still have yet to take down
– Got stuck in a k-hole of Canadian music videos, and ended up watching twenty minutes worth of Glass Tiger videos on YouTube
– Set all of my fantasy hockey teams for tomorrow, and giggled a lot at Adam Henrique’s TINY TINY HEAD
– Laid down on the floor in front of the television seriously contemplating skipping this week because oh god, this episode
This is literally the Marc Blucas of episodes. I understand that Buffy eventually has to have a human boyfriend, and I know it needs to lead into the weird Jocasta Complex-laced Initiative storyline, but watching it play through is torture. If this were a meal, it would be a bowl of lard with some celery on the side. If it were an ice cream, it would be pralines and dick. If it were a weekly televised wrestling show, it would be TNA Impa…um, nevermind.
Worst: Why are you even here, Aces & Eights?
I touched on this two weeks ago, but seriously…why are they there? Isn’t the stipulation they agreed upon (because litigation=wrestling) was for Aces & Eights to be allowed in the Impact Zone? This isn’t the Impact Zone. Can’t they just call Scotland Yard or Sherlock Holmes or Inspector Fowler or whomever and have them arrested? I mean, if a bunch of fake biker dudes who hated me showed up and tried to injure me with a TOTALLY NOT FAKE™ hammer, I would probably try to have them escorted from the building. Why isn’t anyone doing that? And most importantly, did they leave out enough food and water for their lady companions back in Orlando?
Worst: But no, seriously…
This is your one chance to remove Tazz from commentary, and you don’t take it? If I didn’t already know better, the best we could have hope for was someone stealing Tazz’s passport and ID, calling some of Jeff Hardy’s “old friends,” and Brokedown Palace-ing his ass.
Worst: Wes Brisco on the mic
Really, Wes? Or perhaps the better question would be WHATCHOO GONNA DO, WHEN HAWKWAMANIA RUNS WILD ON YOU?
*please note that I have included the evolved New Pokemon Order Hogan for posterity.
Best: But still, thanks for trying to help out, Wes
Worst: Brischoff, maybe you should shut up soon
I’m sorry, Hulk Hogan didn’t call you? You went from WWE to a cup of coffee in Florida indies to being in the main storyline in TNA? You both have extremely well connected fathers within the industry and get to bask in the glow of nepotism while others are wrestling their hearts out in no-name promotions in the middle of nowhere for twenty people, ten of whom probably don’t even care? Gee, sorry I’m not sorry ‘bout your struggles, guys. Maybe the next time you guys feel sad you can take one of Eric Bischoff’s private jets to his massive ranch and ride horses across the countryside and have a cowboy bonfire with stacks of hundred dollar bills. Or, I dunno, get better at wrestling and not be douchebags.
Worst: The X-Division Match
This show is already to the point where I might as well just have posted a picture of Hulk Hogan’s disapproving poopies face and left it at that, because that is basically the only amount of emotion I could muster for any of this.
I would have generally skipped this match, given that it’s yet another pointless title defense with 3/4s of the X-Division (obviously Christian York couldn’t travel due to stringent animal quarantine laws) with some perfectly competent wrestling amidst all of the…not so good sloppy wrestling, but this show was so boring even I struggled with finding anything positive to say. I am still struggling. I started watching and writing five hours ago, and all I have to show for it is two visual gags, a token Jervis Cottonbelly mention, and a W against my Christmas tree.
Worst: Tazz, the Human something something Machine
Guys, that is not a Northern Lights Suplex. You have one job. I will begrudgingly accept some mistakes from Todd Keneley because he’s still pretty green and also endearingly awkward, but Tazz. Sweetie. Tazz. You were the Human Suplex Machine. A machine LITERALLY MADE TO SUPLEX/MADE OF SUPLEXES.
Hey Tazz, mind holding onto this package for me?
Worst: That finish, though…
[This portion of the Best and Worst of Impact has been redacted. With Leather appreciates their sponsors, and in no way would want to offend any of our more impressionable readers with the use of gratuitous adult language, especially for five straight paragraphs. We here at With Leather are grateful for your understanding and consideration in this matter. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.]
Speaking of RVD, however…