Sunday, January 26, 2014

A Little Wrestlemania is Good for the Soul

If you grew up in North America in the 80s you know damn well who this is
That I grew up spending my Saturday mornings watching WWF wrestling is not something I advertise.   It’s not that I’m ashamed of it – I suspect that a lot of guys (and gals) my age spent their Saturday mornings the same way – but the experience, or the knowledge gained from it, is not easily introducible to an adult conversation:

 “We’re expecting our first baby!  We are SO excited!”

“Oh my God that’s great!  This is like when Hulk Hogan bodyslammed Andre the Giant at Wrestlemania 3!”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, ‘Lovely!  When are you due?’”

“We really must be going.”

High praise indeed

Consequently, I am more likely to tell someone about the times in my life I have been accosted by shadowy paranormal entities than I am to describe my heartbreak at Hulk Hogan’s momentous Wrestlemania 6 loss to the Ultimate Warrior.

Welcome to my childhood
At this point it should come as no great surprise that I am not invited to many dinner parties.