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/wrestling /guests /(Bitchfactor) |
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/wrestling /guests /(Bitchfactor) |
| Guest Columns | (Bitchfactor) |
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A GREEN-DEATH TOAST TO THE OUTSIDERS For all that professional wrestling's detractors latch on to in the service of getting up in the industry's ass, be it for smacking bitches up and/or doing 'em in the butt (more or less), by God, were all of them snoozing during last week's Nitro? I am speaking, of course, of the episode's stunning brand- placement ubiquity of NyQuil, not to mention the Outsiders' merry consumption thereof. All I could think was, holy smack, where were the Outsiders when *I* was young and impressionable? To set the scene, the year is 1983. Yours truly and her compatriots, having already conquered the skill of shoplifting cigarettes, were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything alcohol-related to further stave off the boredom of being a) in junior high and b) stuck in a third-tier Minneapolis suburb. On a tip from some rocket scientist that store-bought vanilla and mint extract possessed a high alcohol content and would therefore get us "so wasted," we giddily set upon the nearest Cub Foods, five-finger-discount skills in full effect. So certain were we that local cashiers had been clued in to the potency of this "trade secret," we imagined that if we'd actually attempted to *buy* a dozen economy-size bottles of Durkee's Finest, some twirling red lights and whoop-whoop sirens would have gone off and we'd have been hauled off to juvie. Now, if you can imagine the sheer idiotic sight of five teenage girls huddled in a stall in a second-floor junior high bathroom between classes, knocking back shots of vanilla extract and asking one another, "I dunno, are *you* buzzed?" then you can perhaps understand my admiration for last week's installment of The Outsiders' Tips For The Aspiring Teen Alcoholic. GENIUS, I say. Now, had Nitro been around some 15-odd years ago, we all would have been saved the embarrassment of our wee failed experiment; and those long-suppressed memories came a-flying back as I witnessed old Scott and Kev swingin' while swiggin' back St. Joseph's Children's Jagermeister. Think about it: the sickly viscosity; that inimitable "green death fuckin' flavor" ((c) Denis Leary). Even today, a simple shot of NyQuil can knock a practiced boozehound such as yours truly on her sorry ass. And yet it never crossed my mind in the way-back that the power-packed sedative excitement I *craved* was sitting right there, all green and evil and enticing and glistening with over-the-counter availability. While I've never done a consumer comparison between NyQuil and Jagermeister (though Lord knows right now I'm tempted to), I'd be willing to say that from personal experience, the nod goes to the former in the potency department. Once again, GENIUS! The question remains: Where do they go from here? I'd say the answer lies in TheraFlu, which a close friend referred to the other night as "some wack, tripped-out fuckin' Marion Barry shit." Can't you just picture the Outsiders cutting up lines of raw TheraFlu powder with a WCW MasterCard? Or cooking up a speedball with some mashed-up Vivarin tablets? Kids, the possibilities are endless. The only limit is the imagination of our humble WCW writing staff, I suppose. So here's to Scott and Kev for giving today's underaged a better shot at achieving the rolling-in-their-own-sick thrill they're aching for. A green-death toast to you! Kim (Bitchfactor) [slash] wrestling Mail the Author |
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