Post by Tatiana on Sept 18, 2022 10:22:23 GMT -5
So here we go again… Time and time over, I find myself in a match against some big, dumb, uninteresting meathead who is as vapid as a trophy wife and lacks even a base level of self-awareness. Time and time again, I find myself standing on the verge of something big, only to have somebody come on by and mess it all up.
Look bro, you and I have done this plenty of times before. We’ve been up and down that long and dusty road into the nameless void known as CBS…. Which brings us neatly into the trophy up for grabs in this match on CLASH. Most of the time, you and I are squabbling over the Television Title - but like a drunk girl at a slumber party, ACTION WRESTLING decided to play spin the bottle - and tonight it’s landed on Tatiana vs Balfore for the CBS Championship
Do we even have the naming rights to that? And furthermore, does CBS know that the guy representing their name and brand is a big dumb sack of crap with a penchant for spewing terrible, vile and often times nonsensical rubbish? Do they know the dude that is literally carrying the ‘banner’ for their pro-wrestling television audience couldn’t wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag? ARE THEY AWARE THAT HE IS DEFINITELY 100% SEXIST, MISOGYNISTIC, AND NOT AT ALL CLEVER WHEN HE SAYS NASTY THINGS ABOUT WOMEN?
Maybe it’s just my charm and wit that drags the uggo out of that ogre?
Meh… It really doesn’t matter either way, does it?
CBS probably has limited say in the matter
They’re only paying us a BOATLOAD of money to air our programs
You know who would NEVER allow such a pile of trash to represent it in any fashion? The CBC… That’s right BABY! Hockey Night in Canada and EVERYONE is invited… Unless you’re a 56-year-old sack of crap who has literally been pushed to success because he happens to be over 7-feet tall.
Wait… Is he 56?
Again… Nobody cares.
Balfore… Brah… I literally could care less about what you think or say. You can point the finger at me all you want and call me a loser. You can boast about your stature and tell us all that the voices in your head actually reply to the dumb questions you pose to them. You’ve already slandered every woman in this business - most of all me - in your insatiable thirst for attention.
We’ve done this before…. Like… A lot of times before. And just like every other time we face off in a match, you’ll chase me around the ring. I’ll cut those legs out from under you… Put some pressure on those tired old knees before/during/or after you toss me around like a rag doll. Because we ALL know that the ONLY time you feel like a REAL man is when you’re beating up a girl who is literally a quarter of your size.
Usually, the result is somebody making an appearance to throw a wrench in the works causing one of us to lose the match. Whether that’s somebody intentionally booked in the match with us, or somebody trying to help either one of us to success. Our feud has been anything but concise and unblemished. So, when you stand up there on Mount Olympus with all of the other personalities in that head of yours boasting about how you’re such a menace and how you’ll CRUSH me like the MORTAL I am
Just pump the breaks and stop
We both know it’s never been that
For either of us.
And trust me, I’m no happier about that than you are. At least I can admit our quarrels have always been anything but clean down the middle. It’s really a fun side-hustle that the booking committee likes to return to once in a while because they know how much bad blood there is between us - it’s that classic David vs Goliath trope that gets over so much in our business - and when we clash, it’s almost always over gold.
Well, that and the terse language used in our promos… Which always tends to trend the same way as well. You make jolly boasts, talk about your prowess like a man who is compensating for something - and I come back at you with declarations of sexism and ridicule your deep repertoire of 8 or 9 moves you’ve managed to learn in the 67 years you’ve worked in the business.
See, I just did it again.
We can make this about America vs Canada
We can talk about the CBS Championship
Or even the battle of the sexes…
But in reality, both of us know that this is really about how volatile and combustible our personalities are when mixed in combat. I know damn well what you’re capable of because I’ve endured all of it. I’ve been thrown from pillar to post - launched out of the ring like a rag doll and even eaten that size 14 boot of yours to the face
Which, for the record… SUCKS
But you also know what I’m capable of… You know that one misstep and I’ll have you on the mat chewing canvas while I bend what’s left of your knees into unnatural positions. I don’t like you; I don’t respect you, and quite frankly I’m sick of having to walk this road with you time and time again - but I also know what’s on the line.
Gold… Honor… Glory
Bragging Rights
And all of those things are worth suffering for.
So buckle up big boi… Because you and I have a date with destiny
(Or at the minimum the doctor's office)
“You should totally just kick him in the nads and then bust his nose off his face. The guy is obviously unhinged, and I really hate the idea that they keep booking you against him”
The overriding frustration of my girlfriend was the focus of her attention as she paced the hotel room as I got ready for our trip to the arena ahead of CLASH tonight. Hope was a wrestler herself; she knew that you were always bound to end up in a match against something either twice, or half your size. It was booking GOLD for promotions to book somebody small to take those bumps and rile the fans up in a goliath task.
In this case, that somebody was me
And it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation
“Relax… He hasn’t killed me yet”
I replied with a chuckle while stepping into the left leg of my wrestling pants, stumbling just a bit as I got my other leg into the other side before pulling them up and buttoning them.
“That’s NOT helping!”
She replied with an exasperated groan. I had managed to secure her a backstage pass so she could be on hand for the event. Hope would hang out backstage with my friends while I went out there to fight Odin for a championship that I really needed in order to keep my momentum after last week’s big win over Callaway.
“Every time you fight this guy - I struggle to watch because I’m afraid he’s going to kill you!”
Hope was rather… Passionate… It was the Italian in her… And I guess part of me understood the anxiety. I’d feel the same way if the shoe was on the other foot. Thankfully it was me trying to climb the beanstalk to slay the giant tonight and not her
Eww… That sounded sexual
I’m glad I didn’t say that in my promo..
“He’s not going to kill me”
I rebutted her comment with another chuckle while slipping into my sports bra. After adjusting the girls, I plucked my wrestling halter out of the duffle bag and pulled it on over my head.
To be honest, there was always a little worry on my part that I’d eventually egg that big dumb fucker on enough so that he’d actually try to break me in half. The only saving grace is the fact that he knows my friend Holden would probably kill him if he did.
That or my girlfriend’s dad who is DEFINITELY not a part of the mob would kill him…
I know that’s a bit racist… But for real, if you ever met him, you’d get it
He’s like… RIGHT off of the cast of the Sopranos.
I made the Italian hand gestures to myself in the mirror as I whispered “bop-ah-da-boopie” under my breath
I was careful not to say such things too loudly.
Partly because I didn’t wanna offend her
And partly because I don't wanna swim with the fishes…
“He could do it by accident! He’s not stable, I’ve seen his promos…. He actually believes the things he says!”
“So don’t I. What’s the point?”
I began to brush my damp hair, trying to get that PERFECT Alpha Lesbian hairstyle working for me.
I couldn’t let Johnny Bacchus be the only one rocking the ‘K.D. Lang’ in this place after all.
“But you’re NOT a crazy giant!”
“If I were, you’d be much sorer today”
That actually got a little snort out of her…
Maybe my wit would come in handy after all?
“I just hate to see you get beat up like that… The last time you fought this guy it took me four days to get you back on your feet. It kills me to see you suffer after something like that, TJ”
“It’s my job, babe… I take bumps for a living”
“Bumps are one thing… Getting thrown over the ropes and through a table is another.”
This was true… I was no spring chicken - and my battles with Balfore were often brutal affairs. But that was no reason to shy away from them… My job was to go out there and fight this guy. Plus, there was the little matter of the CBS Championship that would look awfully good over my shoulder..
“Stop fretting”
I said, pushing through the bathroom door with my duffle over one shoulder.
Coming up next to her, I stood on my tippy toes to kiss her cheek before grabbing her hand.
“I’ll be careful. Besides he’ll barely be able to stand up let alone launch me through the roof of the arena after I’m done with him”
“Promise?”
“Do I promise not to fly through the roof?”
Hope stomped a foot and huffed in pantomime frustration. She scrunched that little round face and glared at me with those icy blue eyes while squeezing my hand
“You can’t fly! You’re a grappler!”
“Hah!”
That was so true!
“So, no worries then!”
I interjected
“Come on, our ride is probably waiting for us down there”
“Fiiiine”
She played it up with a huff before finally cracking a little smile as I led her out of the Hotel room and towards the elevators. Hopefully by the time we came back here tonight, I’d be 12 pounds (of gold) heavier than I am now.
Admittedly, sometimes that somebody is me.
But more often than not it’s some bitch like Mason Jones, or the main character in AW’s B-Rate Game of Thrones knock-off - of course I’m talking about the one and (thankfully) only Odin Balfore. Hey big guy, long time no see… So how are things? Still having in-depth conversations with your hands and spewing misogynistic trash like it’s 1998?
Oh wow…
That’s so interesting
Tell me more
Wrath of what?
ZzzzZzzz…..
Which is somewhat confusing as the CBS Championship is kinda like a TV Title?
Or is it a network title?
Or is it a network title?
Are they the same, or different?
I have no idea…
I have no idea…
Do we even have the naming rights to that? And furthermore, does CBS know that the guy representing their name and brand is a big dumb sack of crap with a penchant for spewing terrible, vile and often times nonsensical rubbish? Do they know the dude that is literally carrying the ‘banner’ for their pro-wrestling television audience couldn’t wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag? ARE THEY AWARE THAT HE IS DEFINITELY 100% SEXIST, MISOGYNISTIC, AND NOT AT ALL CLEVER WHEN HE SAYS NASTY THINGS ABOUT WOMEN?
Maybe it’s just my charm and wit that drags the uggo out of that ogre?
Meh… It really doesn’t matter either way, does it?
CBS probably has limited say in the matter
They’re only paying us a BOATLOAD of money to air our programs
You know who would NEVER allow such a pile of trash to represent it in any fashion? The CBC… That’s right BABY! Hockey Night in Canada and EVERYONE is invited… Unless you’re a 56-year-old sack of crap who has literally been pushed to success because he happens to be over 7-feet tall.
Wait… Is he 56?
Again… Nobody cares.
Balfore… Brah… I literally could care less about what you think or say. You can point the finger at me all you want and call me a loser. You can boast about your stature and tell us all that the voices in your head actually reply to the dumb questions you pose to them. You’ve already slandered every woman in this business - most of all me - in your insatiable thirst for attention.
And that’s cool, because I don’t like you either.
I don’t think much of your clout
I don’t fear your size
And I’m not buying your idle threats
We’ve done this before…. Like… A lot of times before. And just like every other time we face off in a match, you’ll chase me around the ring. I’ll cut those legs out from under you… Put some pressure on those tired old knees before/during/or after you toss me around like a rag doll. Because we ALL know that the ONLY time you feel like a REAL man is when you’re beating up a girl who is literally a quarter of your size.
Big ups on that, bub.
Props from the homies.
You're legit, now
Usually, the result is somebody making an appearance to throw a wrench in the works causing one of us to lose the match. Whether that’s somebody intentionally booked in the match with us, or somebody trying to help either one of us to success. Our feud has been anything but concise and unblemished. So, when you stand up there on Mount Olympus with all of the other personalities in that head of yours boasting about how you’re such a menace and how you’ll CRUSH me like the MORTAL I am
Just pump the breaks and stop
We both know it’s never been that
For either of us.
And trust me, I’m no happier about that than you are. At least I can admit our quarrels have always been anything but clean down the middle. It’s really a fun side-hustle that the booking committee likes to return to once in a while because they know how much bad blood there is between us - it’s that classic David vs Goliath trope that gets over so much in our business - and when we clash, it’s almost always over gold.
Well, that and the terse language used in our promos… Which always tends to trend the same way as well. You make jolly boasts, talk about your prowess like a man who is compensating for something - and I come back at you with declarations of sexism and ridicule your deep repertoire of 8 or 9 moves you’ve managed to learn in the 67 years you’ve worked in the business.
See, I just did it again.
We can make this about America vs Canada
We can talk about the CBS Championship
Or even the battle of the sexes…
But in reality, both of us know that this is really about how volatile and combustible our personalities are when mixed in combat. I know damn well what you’re capable of because I’ve endured all of it. I’ve been thrown from pillar to post - launched out of the ring like a rag doll and even eaten that size 14 boot of yours to the face
Which, for the record… SUCKS
But you also know what I’m capable of… You know that one misstep and I’ll have you on the mat chewing canvas while I bend what’s left of your knees into unnatural positions. I don’t like you; I don’t respect you, and quite frankly I’m sick of having to walk this road with you time and time again - but I also know what’s on the line.
Gold… Honor… Glory
Bragging Rights
And all of those things are worth suffering for.
So buckle up big boi… Because you and I have a date with destiny
(Or at the minimum the doctor's office)
See you on CBS
- - - - - -
“You should totally just kick him in the nads and then bust his nose off his face. The guy is obviously unhinged, and I really hate the idea that they keep booking you against him”
The overriding frustration of my girlfriend was the focus of her attention as she paced the hotel room as I got ready for our trip to the arena ahead of CLASH tonight. Hope was a wrestler herself; she knew that you were always bound to end up in a match against something either twice, or half your size. It was booking GOLD for promotions to book somebody small to take those bumps and rile the fans up in a goliath task.
In this case, that somebody was me
And it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation
“Relax… He hasn’t killed me yet”
I replied with a chuckle while stepping into the left leg of my wrestling pants, stumbling just a bit as I got my other leg into the other side before pulling them up and buttoning them.
“That’s NOT helping!”
She replied with an exasperated groan. I had managed to secure her a backstage pass so she could be on hand for the event. Hope would hang out backstage with my friends while I went out there to fight Odin for a championship that I really needed in order to keep my momentum after last week’s big win over Callaway.
“Every time you fight this guy - I struggle to watch because I’m afraid he’s going to kill you!”
Hope was rather… Passionate… It was the Italian in her… And I guess part of me understood the anxiety. I’d feel the same way if the shoe was on the other foot. Thankfully it was me trying to climb the beanstalk to slay the giant tonight and not her
Eww… That sounded sexual
I’m glad I didn’t say that in my promo..
“He’s not going to kill me”
I rebutted her comment with another chuckle while slipping into my sports bra. After adjusting the girls, I plucked my wrestling halter out of the duffle bag and pulled it on over my head.
To be honest, there was always a little worry on my part that I’d eventually egg that big dumb fucker on enough so that he’d actually try to break me in half. The only saving grace is the fact that he knows my friend Holden would probably kill him if he did.
That or my girlfriend’s dad who is DEFINITELY not a part of the mob would kill him…
I know that’s a bit racist… But for real, if you ever met him, you’d get it
He’s like… RIGHT off of the cast of the Sopranos.
I made the Italian hand gestures to myself in the mirror as I whispered “bop-ah-da-boopie” under my breath
I was careful not to say such things too loudly.
Partly because I didn’t wanna offend her
And partly because I don't wanna swim with the fishes…
“He could do it by accident! He’s not stable, I’ve seen his promos…. He actually believes the things he says!”
“So don’t I. What’s the point?”
I began to brush my damp hair, trying to get that PERFECT Alpha Lesbian hairstyle working for me.
I couldn’t let Johnny Bacchus be the only one rocking the ‘K.D. Lang’ in this place after all.
“But you’re NOT a crazy giant!”
“If I were, you’d be much sorer today”
That actually got a little snort out of her…
Maybe my wit would come in handy after all?
“I just hate to see you get beat up like that… The last time you fought this guy it took me four days to get you back on your feet. It kills me to see you suffer after something like that, TJ”
“It’s my job, babe… I take bumps for a living”
“Bumps are one thing… Getting thrown over the ropes and through a table is another.”
This was true… I was no spring chicken - and my battles with Balfore were often brutal affairs. But that was no reason to shy away from them… My job was to go out there and fight this guy. Plus, there was the little matter of the CBS Championship that would look awfully good over my shoulder..
“Stop fretting”
I said, pushing through the bathroom door with my duffle over one shoulder.
Coming up next to her, I stood on my tippy toes to kiss her cheek before grabbing her hand.
“I’ll be careful. Besides he’ll barely be able to stand up let alone launch me through the roof of the arena after I’m done with him”
“Promise?”
“Do I promise not to fly through the roof?”
Hope stomped a foot and huffed in pantomime frustration. She scrunched that little round face and glared at me with those icy blue eyes while squeezing my hand
“You can’t fly! You’re a grappler!”
“Hah!”
That was so true!
“So, no worries then!”
I interjected
“Come on, our ride is probably waiting for us down there”
“Fiiiine”
She played it up with a huff before finally cracking a little smile as I led her out of the Hotel room and towards the elevators. Hopefully by the time we came back here tonight, I’d be 12 pounds (of gold) heavier than I am now.
