ConcreteTG
The Great One  
Posts 3593
Registered 10-6-2002 Location sitting on a guardrail Member Is OnlineMood: Heroic
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 posted on 4-14-2004 at 02:57 PM |
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You know people consider you a big wrestling fan when.........
....when I can tell my coworkers that Kane kicked my @$$ at a house show and I survived with only a sprained ankle
...and they believed me.
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shashwat mishra
Showstopper
Posts 529
Registered 9-27-2002 Location Bhubaneswar, India Member Is Offline Mood: Relaxed
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| posted on 4-14-2004 at 03:08 PM |
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....when I showed everyone who entered my room at college, the latest Undertaker video clips downloaded from sabretooth's website
....and forced them to say that they were impressed
Eddie Guerrero is main eventing the heavens!
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borntorun
God of This World 
Posts -8733
Registered 7-22-2003 Location Breathe Member Is Offline Mood: House, Monk-E
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| posted on 4-14-2004 at 07:15 PM |
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You kill your entire family with a savage and bloodthirsty barrage of steel chairs and powerbombs
...and you win your criminal trial on the basis that they were holding you down.
Edit: thanks, Concrete
[Edited on 4-14-2004 by borntorun]
Fake McCoy Comics
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Katie Vick killer
Man of a Thousand Holds 
Posts 1580
Registered 8-25-2003 Location w/ Randall Member Is Offline Mood: Chin locked
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| posted on 4-15-2004 at 01:35 AM |
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...your belt buckle is bigger than your head.
Vote Bender
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OffIceman
And I am AWESOME
Posts 105
Registered 3-12-2004 Location Eerie, PA Member Is Offline Mood: so damn gOOd
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| posted on 4-15-2004 at 05:31 AM |
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You have a bathrobe with sequins or your name spelled on the back!!
It's a sick world, and I'm a happy guy!!!
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rasslinjunkie
Man of a Thousand Holds 
Posts 1245
Registered 4-29-2003 Location louisiana Member Is Offline Mood: Deservedly Smug
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| posted on 4-15-2004 at 05:43 AM |
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When naming your children, you always keep in mind the consideration of "will it translate well to their wrestling career?"
The biggest question of your childhood was "who WILL I marry? Hogan or Piper?"
You have a cat named "Nature Boy," who wears a gay-ass rhinestone collar and are genuinely surprised when people find that strange, never guessing
they might actually not watch wrestling.
You find yourself gazing rapturously into the eyes of your significant other, merely because they were able to produce some odd bit of wrestling
trivia.
You point out Shawn Michaels to your child, saying "that's your REAL daddy."
Wait, were we not being serious?
Crap.
Jeb's advice on dealing with a Flamey Internet:
Stop posting. Kill yourself.
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Canadian Bulldog
Man of a Thousand Holds 
Posts 1890
Registered 7-28-2003 Location Yes. Member Is Offline Mood: EVER!!!
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| posted on 4-16-2004 at 03:33 PM |
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Here's some more:
You know people consider you a big wrestling fan when.........
... you can somehow get your cat into a Crippler Crossface (even if she doesn't sell it very well)
... you ask the pizza place if they can guaran-damn-tee your delivery in 30 minutes.
.... you often wonder how "over" you are in your workplace or school.
.... you're listening to a song on the radio and realize it would make the perfect entrance music.
... beer doesn't taste right unless you can stand up on a raised platform, smash two cans together and splash the liquid all over your face.
.... No one even thinks of calling the authorities after you deliver an F-5 to your three-and-a-half year old son (not that *I've* ever done
that! No sir!)
The book... IS... HERE!!!
The Official Inside The Ropes website
BulldogZone : Official Inside The Ropes Merchandise
The Ridiculously Expensive Canadian BullBLOG
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BoerboelLVR
Man of a Thousand Holds 
Posts 1646
Registered 2-14-2003 Location Over the line! Member Is Offline Mood: HELP ME!!!
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| posted on 4-16-2004 at 03:49 PM |
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You know people consider you a big wrestling fan when you sign up to a wrestling message board and use this as your bio:
"Along with his brother Doug, CANADIAN BULLDOG was signed in June 2003 to a SmackDown!-exclusive contract by General Manager Stephanie McMahon.
Stephanie undoubtedly signed CANADIAN BULLDOG , at least in part, due to his impressive amateur background. Still in his 20s, CANADIAN BULLDOG played
football and basketball and ran for the track team in high school. He particularly excelled in football; he was the two-year captain for his team, won
All-Conference honors and is the leading tackler in the history of his high school.
Wrestling insiders have long said that CANADIAN BULLDOG , a three-time Ohio Valley Wresting (OVW) Champion, has the credentials to be a WWE Superstar.
In fact, he even earned a spot in the 2003 Royal Rumble – the first competitor in OVW history to win such a distinction. However, CANADIAN BULLDOG ’s
spot was revoked as punishment when he subsequently attacked OVW trainer and former WWE Tag Team Champion “Soulman” Rocky Johnson – evidence that
Stephanie may have trouble controlling the BULLDOG Brothers."
Don't touch me there!
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Canadian Bulldog
Man of a Thousand Holds
Posts 1890
Registered 7-28-2003 Location Yes. Member Is Offline Mood: EVER!!!
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| posted on 4-16-2004 at 04:28 PM |
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quote:
Originally posted by BoerboelLVR
You know people consider you a big wrestling fan when you sign up to a wrestling message board and use this as your bio:
Hey, can I help it if Doug Basham and I are alike in so many ways?
The book... IS... HERE!!!
The Official Inside The Ropes website
BulldogZone : Official Inside The Ropes Merchandise
The Ridiculously Expensive Canadian BullBLOG
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folby
The Great One 
Posts 3399
Registered 9-11-2003 Location schmocation Member Is Offline Mood:
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| posted on 4-17-2004 at 12:43 AM |
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When it doesn't seem odd that you "Wooooo!" every 20 or so seconds during any sort of sports game.
Things I have written recently
3/24: On Sandwiches: The Beef on
Weck
3/16: The Rage Against The Machine School of Continuing Education
3/15: On Sandwiches Presents: The Best Possible Sandwich
Chain
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rasslinjunkie
Man of a Thousand Holds
Posts 1245
Registered 4-29-2003 Location louisiana Member Is Offline Mood: Deservedly Smug
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| posted on 4-17-2004 at 12:49 AM |
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When it doesn't seem odd that you "Wooooo!" every 20 or so seconds in any remotely exciting situation, when you open the fridge to find you
have pie, when you walk in the front door, while putting your kid to bed, while getting the mail, while clipping your toenails.......
Jeb's advice on dealing with a Flamey Internet:
Stop posting. Kill yourself.
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folby
The Great One
Posts 3399
Registered 9-11-2003 Location schmocation Member Is Offline Mood:
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| posted on 4-17-2004 at 01:04 AM |
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When you "Woooooo" during sex.
Things I have written recently
3/24: On Sandwiches: The Beef on
Weck
3/16: The Rage Against The Machine School of Continuing Education
3/15: On Sandwiches Presents: The Best Possible Sandwich
Chain
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spongebob
And I am AWESOME
Posts 100
Registered 1-30-2004 Location Winnipeg Member Is Offline Mood: restless
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| posted on 4-17-2004 at 08:26 PM |
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When you describe the characters of "West Wing" and "Everyone Love Raymond" in terms of "heels, faces and tweeners."
When you talk about the plot of a movie or TV show using terms like "swerve" and complain about the "bookers" messing up the storyline.
I should have changed my signature long ago but I've been procrasti... Ah fuck it! I'll do it later.
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angstboy
cornerkicked.com 
Posts 4807
Registered 12-11-2002 Location Baltimore, MD Member Is Offline Mood: CornerKicked
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| posted on 4-20-2004 at 06:06 PM |
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....you work without a shirt on, and so does your husband. G'faw!
Y'all got served!!!
Corner Kicked - a comic where Cory and Ziggy do inappropriate stuff to each other.
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outback jack
The Great One 
Posts 3681
Registered 3-10-2003 Location not Australia Member Is Offline Mood: old
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| posted on 4-20-2004 at 06:19 PM |
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You look around the room for advice before shaking someone's hand, then have a staring contest before letting go.
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BoerboelLVR
Man of a Thousand Holds
Posts 1646
Registered 2-14-2003 Location Over the line! Member Is Offline Mood: HELP ME!!!
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| posted on 4-20-2004 at 06:23 PM |
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When you walk into a party with about 29 other guys already there, you hit each of them in the face once as you run around the room, then you lock up
with the fat guy who is standing near the crab dip.
Don't touch me there!
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Katie Vick killer
Man of a Thousand Holds
Posts 1580
Registered 8-25-2003 Location w/ Randall Member Is Offline Mood: Chin locked
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| posted on 4-20-2004 at 07:28 PM |
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When you wonder if HHH will ask Wesley Snipes to join Evolution.
[Edited on 20/4/2004 by Katie Vick killer]
Vote Bender
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Jeb Tennyson Lund
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| posted on 4-20-2004 at 09:05 PM |
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You know people consider you a big wrestling fan when.........
...when they get in the car in the dark, and you sit up behind them in the back seat and say, "Don't do anything stupid." And they get all
paranoid and say, "Who are you?" and you pull back the hammer on the gun and say, "That doesn't matter. What matters is who you wanna
be? You wanna be a smartass? Or you wanna be someone who gets out of this alive?" And they say they wanna get out of this alive, and you say, good,
drive the car. So they say, where are we going; and you're just like, nowhere yet, man, just fucking drive.
So you're driving around for a while, and now you're pretty sure that they're docile and know what's best for them, so you can
tell them where you're both going — Without. Any. Funny. Stuff. You think they'll get that, so you tap them with the gun and say,
"The wharf." So you're going pretty fast through the Haight, and the car's bouncing going down the hills, through Market and into the
Tenderloin. But the driver decides to play wiseguy, thinking that no one in the Tenderloin is gonna think twice about a car accident; and, besides,
they saw you're not wearing a seatbelt.
So they start winding the car back around to the left and back up through the Market, and you say, what the hell is this? And they say, what are you
talking about? And you say, what the fuck you think I'm talking about? This isn't the way to the wharf! And they say, hey, man, there was
road construction — couldn't go that way to the wharf. And you're like, fuck that, I didn't see no fucking road construction;
and now you're thinking about maybe pistol-whipping them pretty good. But it's dark, and the thing you don't see is that while
you've been getting hot there in the backseat, they've been slowly speeding up to 50, and you're on Hayes street.
And then BAM! The car goes flying off the Hayes Street Hill, and the Motherfucker in the car slams on the brakes the moment the tires hit ground — and
your dumb ass gets flung over the seat sideways and over the dashboard, and your right shoulder — your goddamn gun arm — and then the rest of your
body goes through the fucking windshield. Just puts a hole in the right side of it. So now your sorry-ass legs are skidding back and forth on the
hood, and the wind is blowing so hard up your ass that your pants are now schoolboy shorts bunched around your knees. But your left hand is still
inside the car, holding on to an air-conditioning vent and keeping you from slipping off the hood.
Well it doesn't take Motherfucker long to realize that just swerving a bunch and beating on your left hand will get you to fly off the car. So
as soon as he starts doing his Ali v. Air Conditioner shit, you pull your hand back to the lip of the hood and adrenaline starts sending your brain
some fast options.
You don't want to fire the gun, because for one thing, even you realize that it's possible for this psycho-panicked Motherfucker to
actually be a worse driver will a bullet hole in him. And two, firing the gun would only get more attention from the cops, but that
point's getting more and more moot with each second of Señor Nutbag doing Sedan-Slalom through fucking North Beach with a goddamned Human Being
on the hood of the car — a human being who is you, you dumbass who got snookered by some Motherfucker and now has his pants blowing up around
his knees and looks like a fucking gun-toting version of Angus from AC/DC.
So you just start pounding the fucking driver's side of the windshield with the butt of the gun, which makes it crack and spiderweb so bad that
the Paranoid Motherfucker has to stop swerving around the road so much because even he can't see where he's going anymore. But you know
what you're doing, and when you can hold on tight, you smash it some more, so it becomes less and less spiderweb and more like a million tiny
checkerboards that are glinting like M.C. Escher Ghetto Diamonds under the streetlights.
At this point you finally gain a hold of the windshield and rip the fucker out entirely. But you're ready for the aftermath of "empty
windshield space," — whereas he isn't, and the cold night wind will have him blinking back tears two seconds after Mister Windshield makes
friends with Mr. Road. So before Paranoid Motherfucker can start slaloming again, you toss the gun into the passenger seat. It's good enough for
two seconds, because he looks at it like, hey, maybe I should pick that up. But you've got your left hand on the top of the hood, put your right
hand there too, and pull and swing your body through the full windshield space and kick that Motherfucker in the forehead while collapsing on front
seats sideways, your head up against the passenger door, back on the seat, and ass briefly far too close to the emergency brake.
By the time he's jerked the car back and forth and then straightened it out and realized he's not getting kicked anymore, you're
splayed out on the passenger seat with the gun in your left hand and your right holding on to the dash. You pull yourself upright and more in
control.
Try that again, asshole, you say, and he looks like he doesn't want to take you up on it. You press the gun to his temple while snapping the
seatbelt in place, and say, "The WHARF, man. NOW. AND NO MORE CLEVER SHIT." He obeys, and you pull your pantlegs down because you know you're
badass, but you are NOT ANGUS.
About two minutes pass and you realize that Motherfucker is under control again and going where you tell him to go, but he's still totally
nervous. Just for hacks, you flick on the radio, and the sudden blast of gibbering Latin music and some bandleader sounding like he's gargling a
badger completely flips out Motherfucker. He was white-knuckling the wheel before, but he's now doing a white-hand thing, and that sound you
think is a washboard-player in the 25-person Latin band is actually Motherfucker grinding about 1/32nd of an inch off his molars every two seconds.
Finally, you just switch the gun to your right hand, grab hold of your seat with your left, and use the gun butt to beat the radio into submission.
Who gives a fuck? It was only some hundred-dollar Circuit City Kenwood faceplate job anyway.
A couple minutes after Motherfucker quits doing his rock-tumbler-in-the-mouth thing, you tell him to pull in around pier 23. You're negotiating
some small wood-plank paths around the warehouses, and you pass one that stinks — like fucking stinks — of roasted almonds. And you're
asking yourself, roasted almonds? The hell? It doesn't help that with the pier's regular smell, it actually comes out smelling more like
"can of roasted almonds with a smashed crab stuck in the middle of it." You think about maybe complaining about it to Motherfucker, but after you
tell him to pull forward about 50 yards to some shipping crates and park there, he immediately starts weeping. You hadn't even kicked him that
hard, but he's still weeping.
For a second, the idea of telling him that it's ironic he drives a Saab presents itself. But he's already dampening himself like a
candyass, so you forget it. Insult to injury.
As soon as he parks, you rip the emergency brake up, snap the keys out of the ignition and throw them out the gaping Former Windshield Area. You tell
Motherfucker you two are going to get out and have a frank conversation.
Just then you move your right hand, your gun hand, the tiniest bit, and Motherfucker panics. He thinks you're going to pistol-whip him, so he
ducks his head and snaps his right hand out, flat-fingered and palm down, like "Wussy Snake Attack." And you might have moved back a bit to protect
eyes, except that his hand jerks left and right about 10 inches from your head. Now you didn't even want to hit him or anything, just get him
outta the car, but this is like watching "Bad Dog Does Bad Things Too Many Times."
Which means you gotta punish him for that. So you pistol-whip him once, and he immediately starts flailing around, fists and elbows and arms and
clawing all over the place, like a cat with its ass hooked up to a car battery or something. And because you are in charge, this is simply Not Done.
So you start pistol-whipping him more, like he's some ten-dollar hooker who's two lingering teeth away from switching over full-time to
gumjobs.
Now Motherfucker's doubled over, practically about to throw up through the gaps in the wheel, so you get out and walk around the car, open the
door, drag his ass out and push him. He crumples on the ground. You start the talk.
Y: Okay, bitch, you need to know I'm a wrestling fan.
M: Uh...?
Y: I said you need to know I'm a wrestling fan.
M: Uh, uh... okay? Okay? I mean, okay?
And that's when he knows you're a wrestling fan. As soon as you let him go, they will know you're a wrestling fan. And
he'll know you know he knows you're a wrestling fan. And soon they'll know that you know that he knows that you're a wrestling
fan. See, this is how they know you're a wrestling fan. Lotta people in the know. But you gotta make him say it.
Y: SAY IT, BITCH! SAY I'M A WRESTLING FAN!
M: YOU'RE A WRESTLING FAN! YOU'RE A WRESTLING FAN.
Y: Yeah. Cool. Just thought you should know that.
M: But... I... I knew that already.
And then you realize, it must have been Greenstreet all along....
Thus concludes pointless thread theater. Join us again when we discuss: "What Makes You Mark Out?" "What Really Happened with the
Montreal Screwjob?" "How You Got Into Wrestling," "Who's the Prettiest Diva?" "Vince McMahon: Bad Man or Good Man?" "Stomtrooper's
WWE Shadow Puppet ZZZ Theater," "The Wit, Wisdom and Wet Mattresses of Firebreaker Chip," "mcian: Canadian Right-Wing Lunatic Idiot or Just
General Right-Wing Lunatic Idiot?" "Will [insert name] Come out of Retirement, Even Though We Have Zero Indication That He Will?" "Name Your
Favorite Wrestler," "Name Your Least Favorite Wrestler," "Name Your Favorite Finisher," "Name Your Least Favorite Finisher," "How I Would Have
Booked [insert name of event, split, segment, match, lunch, final season of Friends, Civil War battle, conversation, trip to the grocery store
or election]" and, of course, "Is [person's name/phenomenon] Over?"
This post is dedicated to mcian, Firebreaker Chip, Endo and all the future clods in dire need of a pistol-whipping.
"Dont you hate it when you add several packets of sugar to a glass of iced tea and still cant get the flavor to change?
Dave Matthews Band is like that, but the sugar packets are black people."
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Operation Pajama Pants
Showstopper
Posts 997
Registered 2-23-2004 Member Is Offline Mood: Shmood
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| posted on 4-20-2004 at 09:28 PM |
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i love you jeb.
Official Poster Of The OOForum's 100,000th Post.
borntorun: getting punched in the cock by a naked guy is pretty arousing.
Visit OOWF.com!
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TheImmortalMarkHogan
Fella
Posts 434
Registered 5-4-2002 Location P-burg, WV Member Is Offline Mood: Spastic
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| posted on 4-21-2004 at 12:42 AM |
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You know you watch too much wrestling when you meet a hot chick named Jamie Nolan and (true story) everytime you try to remember her name, all you can
come up w/is Jamie Noble.
Top 5 Things BTR Does With Billy's Thong
5. Puts in on....realizes he has it on backwards...and sadly realize everything is still covered.
- BFG
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Endo
Fella 
Posts 454
Registered 4-30-2002 Location Virginia Beach Member Is Offline Mood: hypoxic
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| posted on 4-21-2004 at 02:10 AM |
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By using clod you just validated my use of schmutz.
"Why do you watch that? It's fake! IT'S FAKE!!" - My mother
"I know." - Me
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Ando
Showstopper 
Posts 622
Registered 12-24-2002 Location Nelson, New Zealand Member Is Offline Mood: Wolfmothered
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| posted on 4-21-2004 at 04:47 AM |
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Damn, I'm not following the formula of this thread, out of fear of being pistol whipped. But, I was at a club the other night, I walked across
the dance floor to get to a door which opens to an outside area. As I was walking through the smoke machine went off. I so wanted to throw some
punches and kicks and tell someone that they were indeed next...
2002's Christmas present to OO.
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outback jack
The Great One
Posts 3681
Registered 3-10-2003 Location not Australia Member Is Offline Mood: old
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| posted on 4-21-2004 at 04:12 PM |
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quote:
Originally posted by Endo
By using clod you just validated my use of schmutz.
No. Clod is often used in reference to a person. Schmutz is generally not, per my Yiddish-speaking colleagues.
Now let me get this straight, Jeb. If we start more threads on the screwjob or "what's your third favorite finisher on Heat", will you write
more posts like that? I can imagine the petition drive to get TTP reinstated.
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BoerboelLVR
Man of a Thousand Holds
Posts 1646
Registered 2-14-2003 Location Over the line! Member Is Offline Mood: HELP ME!!!
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| posted on 4-21-2004 at 04:25 PM |
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If Jeb dislikes these types of threads so much that he is motivated to write posts like that, then we need more of these threads.
Jeb, that post was, imo, excellent. Who new it would take a topic like this, to get your mind working to write that. Bravo!
P.S. Happy now?
Don't touch me there!
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microplay_24
The Great One 
Posts 3193
Registered 1-10-2004 Location Toronto, Ontario Member Is Offline Mood:
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| posted on 4-21-2004 at 05:01 PM |
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Back to the topic of the thread:
When watching a Rock movie, you see the Rock topple a guy through a table, and telling your friend ‘That’s a Rock Bottom, by the way.’
Microplay - first ever OOWF World Heavyweight Champion
Owner of The "Reggie IC" #002
2004 bOOardies - Breakthrough Poster of The Year
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