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Scott Rees

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BLAH

REES' PIECE OF MIND
Dedicated to the One I Love

First off, I would like to thank everyone that responded to me this week on my last column. Surprisingly, they all agreed with what I had to say (if you missed it, maybe CRZ would be nice and create a link here). I thought someone would call me a heartless bastard, as I was ripping on Derrick Thomas before his body was cold. However, everyone agreed with "The Celebrity Tragedy Syndrome" portrayed by our PC media. Dick Schapp broke rank today in his "Final Thought" on "The Sports Reporters". His comment was Derrick wasn't a saint, but he did a lot to help out the kids in the KC community, and that's how he chooses to remember him. Classy and fitting, kind of like Dick Schapp.

Valentine's Day is upon us, so I ripped off the old song title for my column name this week. As we all prepare for the big day, I gave a suggestion to my girlfriend on what I wanted to do for the night. As the dog show kicks RAW back two hours, I suggested a candlelight dinner as we watch Nitro, followed by snuggling together during RAW. Amazingly enough, I've been sleeping on the couch ever since.

I think most of the guys reading this column will appreciate my problem. My significant other hates pro wrestling. Denice loathes it, actually. On a side note, if there are any women reading this with a significant other that hates pro wrestling, dump his/her ass. No matter what you look like, I guarantee you I can get you a date within a week through my new dating service, "A Wrestling Match". I'll put pictures of you up on the "Wrestling Match" website, with your bio stating your favorite wrestler (for reasons other than he has a nice ass) and your 100 word essay on why Chris Benoit is the second coming of the Dynamite Kid. Ladies, send naked pictures of yourself to my address below, and I'll book your love match!

Enough with my blatant attempts to get pictures of naked women. I'm banished to the kitchen to watch the WWF on Mondays and Thursdays. Now, before you send a message calling me a pussy and I should be controlling the TV while she does the dishes, keep in my mind we live together in a house we bought together. I ain't married, but I'm a hell of a lot closer to it than not. With that said, now you can send me messages calling me a pussy.

I'm sure about half of the guys who watch pro wrestling have the same problem. And it really makes no sense, especially because your girlfriends probably love soap operas, which is essentially what pro wrestling is. Us guys will watch their soap operas (hey, there's some nice looking babes on those shows). For instance, Denice watches Days of Our Lives. I've always preferred CBS soaps myself, but hey, I'm flexible. Eventually, I've picked up the character names and started to follow a few storylines. OK, so maybe I didn't freak out and threaten to never watch again when Austin, after recovering from nearly dying in a boxing match, chose Sami over Carrie. But I listened to her complaints and whines about it. Why can't she humor me when I'm laughing at Simon Diamond yelling at a referee to quit yanking on his Dick?

What really sucks in my situation is that by all rights, Denoit (my new pet name for her, in a loving tribute to both her and Benoit) should be a huge wrestling fan. One of her older brothers used to be a wrestler here in Chicago. Her grandfather used to be a wrestler (he's also in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the most cement blocks broken over his stomach with a sledgehammer). She knows who the Von Erichs are. She knows who Iceman King Parsons is, for Christ's sake. Yet I sit on the freezing kitchen floor on Mondays while she watches Dateline. Dateline, I tell you. Ugh.

Now, my experience has been you usually can convert a girlfriend into a minor wrestling with you. Start off with moderation. If you have it on seven nights a week, she's going to hate it. With wrestling on everyday except Tuesdays, you have to watch out for overload. However, one night a week is perfect. Also, it is important to make sure the wrestlers are good looking. Shawn Michaels was great for that. Of the current crop, the Rock is your best bet. He's tall, dark, handsome, and married. And his character is a jerk. Chicks dig jerks. For some reason, Nash, another jerk, is a hit with the ladies, even though he's uglier than shit. But hey, so am I, so I borrowed the nickname for my dating alter ego, the 6'5", 275 pound pot-bellied Big Sexy Rees. Laugh all you want, but how many women call you Big Sexy on a regular basis?

The overall key though, is you got to get her interested in the storylines. The WWF's storylines rival those of the soap operas, and are less stupid than those on Days. No one has had their mind erased or possessed by the devil in wrestling, for crying out loud. But many of the same plot lines popular in women's daytime are popular in our nighttime. And the amount of sex and violence in daytime puts our wrestling shows to shame.

The WWF had the perfect girl-friendly storyline with Test, and they blew it. Test falls in love with Stephanie, and Stephanie plays him for a fool to get back at her family. Test and Steph's big wedding is destroyed when HHH shows footage of him marrying a drugged Steph. Steph leaves Test for the family's most hated rival, HHH, in order to get back at the earlier dastardly deeds of Vince and Shane. Steph proclaims she really did love Test, but she ends up having lied to him all along. And then for some unknown reason, Test goes back to the mid-card? WTF?

If I had booked, here's how it would have went. On the next RAW, Test should have been hunting HHH down, challenging him to a loser must leave the WWF for ninety days match. With the ref knocked out, Test has HHH beaten after a monster elbow drop. Stephanie gets on the mic, tells Test she really loves him, Test goes to kiss her, she kicks him in the gonads, pedigree, and a pinfall. Test is beaten down by DX while Stephanie calls him a true loser with a small penis.

Test is shown in weekly segments, heartbroken, looking at pictures of him and Stephanie, falling deeper into the dumps every day. He's nothing now, a nobody. He's in a bar, drinking alone, when a longtime female friend walks up to him. (I'm picturing Amy Dumas here, in tight leather, looking like she's been rode hard and put away wet.) Amy secretly loves Test, but he doesn't know. Amy convinces Test the best way to get Stephanie back is to defeat HHH. Test rededicates himself to wrestling, kicking ass along the way, and eventually faces HHH at the King of the Ring. Test defeats HHH, and as Stephanie gets on the mic to proclaim she loved Test all along, Test embraces her. He then realizes that Amy brought him to this point, that Amy is the one that really loves him, and he tells Stephanie to go to hell. Test and Amy kiss, and walk off hand-in-hand. Denice can't stop crying, and she proclaims her love for me as we live happily ever after.

Ok, that was some really sappy shit. In reality, Denice would watch that, look at me and say that was really fucking stupid, and go to bed.

And that's probably why I love her. She's not a wrestling fan, but I guess I can live with that.

Happy Valentine's Day to all.

And ladies, don't forget those naked pictures to the address below! Your Wrestling Match awaits you!

Scott Rees
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