Eugene and Mickie James Autograph Signing

The question I asked Mickie James: So...is Trish a good kisser?

The question I should have asked Mickie James: So...what was it like having your head in Trish's crotch?

Perfect Timing

First off, fuck the House of Blues! They really need to state on their tickets that no cameras are allowed in their crappy venue. What exactly is the harm? They allow drinking so that people can walk out belligerent, and before Chicago’s smoking ban went into effect, they allowed smoking so that people can come out wreaking of cigarettes, but you can’t take pictures so that you can take your sentimental mementos home? I’m never going there again.

All in all, other then spending $30 on a ticket that I didn’t use and an extra $15 to cab me to and from that shithole, I still can’t complain. Everything happens for a reason, and I guess I wasn’t meant to be there. I know because I really was meant to go to the Triple H book signing instead...because I’m special…

After being rejected at the House of Blues, I somehow managed to take the train back to my car and drive to Blooming –bufu – dale in about 30 minutes. Getting to Tower Records was a little discouraging seeing as it was 10 minutes before Trips was to arrive and there were over 200 people waiting in line for his autograph. So much for the effort…

I decided to see if I can get into the store as a shopper to at least check out his book when out of nowhere a black limo - Triple H’s limo – comes right at me and almost hits me head on. While most people would have their life flash before their eyes, all I could think of was living out one of the storylines in the career mode of Raw vs. Smackdown (that should come as no surprise - I’m also the one who fell into an ice cold river screaming “Camera!” instead of screaming for help).

Knowing that Trips was now in the area, I ran into and then around the store frantically searching for his book. No book. Like a dumbass, I was searching in the CD section and then the DVD section when I asked myself out loud why Tower Records, a place that sells music and movies, is having a book signing when the friggin store doesn’t even sell books. Someone must have heard my thought because a cashier said that the books were up at the register.

I was going to leave the store to hopelessly wait in line just so I could get back into the store within the next two hours to meet the man who slept with the boss’s daughter and is still living and living well when a store employee said that all the people in the store would have to make way for Trips. I noticed that all the people that were in the store grouped together in what looked like a line so I joined them. Another employee headed toward the door and turned the latch – the store was locked down, no one could enter, but no one could leave either. I was going to meet Triple H…and I didn’t have to wait in line!

Trips walked into the store, did a quick interview, and started the book signing. The first person was a kid in a wheelchair with his parents. The next person in line was another kid, this time with downs syndrome, and was also with his parents. After realizing that the first two kids were “special,” I began to notice the 10 other people who were in front of me – they were either kids with disabilities or the parents of these kids. I also noticed that all of them were wearing green wristbands. To make matters worse, I was the only one not decked out in wrestling apparel, which made me stick out even more like a tall Asian Filipino.

When I finally got to Triple H, he shook my hand and gave me a funny look. It was like he was trying to figure out what was wrong with me, the thing that made me “special.” It didn’t take very much thought because as he was signing my book, the only thing I said to him was, “Hello Mr. H.” I felt really, really special at that moment.

Oh well, it beats having to wait in line for hours.

Tyson Tomko and Trevor Murdoch Autograph Signing

Candice Michelle Autograph Signing

WWE Diva, Godaddy girl and April 2006 Playboy cover person Candice Michelle at the Virgin Music autograph signing.

What WrestleMania Means to Me

In a way somewhat similar to how the television show “24” began each episode in their first season,

My name is Erwin, and this week will be one of the most memorable weeks of my life.

Like “24,” the twists, the turns, and the buildup that have occurred throughout the past WWE calendar year will finally reach its climax this Sunday in the pinnacle of professional sports entertainment…WrestleMania!

“Wrestling is fake. Wrestling is scripted. Why would you spend all that money to see that shit?”

Why? Because going to WrestleMania has been a childhood dream of mine since I was seven years old. To all you haters out there, when was the last time you had an opportunity to achieve something that you really wanted since you were a kid? I’ll tell it like it is: If everyone lived out their childhood dream, there’d be a hell of a lot more doctors and astronauts than there are today.

WrestleMania is where bitter feuds come to an end, while the seeds for even greater battles are being planted. In some cases, WrestleMania is where good finally triumphs and overcomes the obstacles that have been in its way. It took Hulk Hogan several tries to body slam Andre the Giant at WrestleMania III in Detroit, Michigan in 1987, and with every attempt that passed, all 90,000+ people in the Pontiac Silverdome were asking themselves whether or not the irresistible force could really defeat the immovable object.

Watching the body slam seen around the world on WGN news later that night, that’s when I knew I wanted to be there.

I had a chance to live out my childhood dream, going to my first WrestleMania four years ago in Seattle. It was an experience being in a baseball stadium with close to 50,000+ wrestling fans, many of whom die-hard like me. In the airports to and from Seattle, I met people from London, Germany, Australia and Japan. I met people from the States that lived out east in New York and out west in Hawaii. This Sunday, over 15,000 people from 16 countries and 41 states will pack the AllState Arena and more than 90 countries will watch the grand daddy of them all. How many single day events are out there that are truly global in nature? There’s only one that comes to mind: WrestleMania.





This WrestleMania will be just as memorable as my first but for completely different reasons. One, this year’s WrestleMania is in my home city, Chicago! Two, I’ll be sitting ringside! And three, when WrestleMania is finally upon us, the 402 day road to WrestleMania that began on February 24th, 2005 will come to a bittersweet end. Aside from getting married, I can’t think of another reason why anyone would countdown that number of days for anything else.

On that day, I know there will be a moment where I take a step back like I did at my first WrestleMania four years ago, and it’ll finally hit – I did it. I’m at WrestleMania!

I may not have the opportunity to main event for the world heavyweight title, but being there live and witnessing the matches between those who can is enough of a championship win for me.


We are all mortals. Our bodies, though strong, cannot defy time. One day, we will die... What matters most is the legacy we leave behind....

Did we become all that we are capable of becoming?

Did we make the difference we came here to make?

Did we pursue our dreams when all around us thought we were chasing illusions?

Only those who dare to rise are able to lift themselves above horizons...

Only those bold enough to chase dreams are the ones who catch them...

WrestleMania: The Showcase of the Immortals

A Chance to Rewrite History

Around this time in March of 2003, I was counting down the days until my very first trip to Seattle, where I would be living a childhood dream and attending my first ever WrestleMania. At the same time, I was torn apart and stressed out about the job situation, having to choose between two great companies knowing that I would be burning bridges with one to go to the other.

Flash forward to present day March 2006: Three years and so many frequent flyer miles that I’ve earned a free trip to anywhere in the United States later, I embark on another weekend trip to Seattle. In 23 days, I will be living that childhood dream again by attending my second WrestleMania which I truly believe will be just as memorable as the first not only because it is happening in the best city in the world, CHICAGO (cheap Mick Foley pop), but also because I’ll be sitting ringside at the big event, the pinnacle in sports entertainment.

As the joy and excitement has been building, however, so has the stress and anxiety about my current job situation. Again, I am faced with the choice of working for either of two great companies knowing that the announcement will surely burn a bridge with one of those companies.

Notice the eerie similarities?

While I’m pretty good at not second guessing my own decisions, when it comes to the choice I made between the two jobs three years ago, I can’t help but ask myself more and more, “What if I chose the other job instead?”

By no means do I regret the decision I made. Working for the largest private company in the world is a pretty smart choice (but then again, working for one of the top Fortune 500 companies would have sounded good as well). And if it wasn’t for the place where I worked, I wouldn’t have met so many people who are now my friends even after the sad events that took place in the later part of last year.

Although the more I think of the order of those events, from the announcement to the eventual demise, I still can’t help but ask myself if I had made the right choice. Would my situation now be any different if I had chosen the other job? Hopefully that question will go away with my acceptance of an offer at the new job that I will start on Monday. After three plus years of wondering “What if,” I finally get a chance to see what the other path would have been like, and I definitely plan on making the most of that opportunity.

WrestleMania 22: The Home Stretch

30 Days Away...

What happened 371 days ago? Relive the announcement...Relive the excitement....

Click here to read the announcement that marked the official beginning of the Road to WrestleMania 22 journey.

Booger

After a week of waking up in the morning with a bloody nose, I’ve come to the realization that I need a humidifier in my bedroom. Here’s my deductive reasoning:

-I’m too accident prone to keep a blade somewhere near my bed just in case I want to snort up any white powder I don’t have in my sleep.

-My fingers are free of blood which means that in my sleep I wasn’t thinking of inserting (two finger quotes) an appendage into (two finger quotes) a small orifice and proceeding to (two finger quotes) rip it apart...which in turn means that I wasn’t picking my nose you sick, sick perverts! Seriously, besides Carl, whose freaking penis fits inside someone’s nostril?

-As a result of the warm, dry air generated by my heater, my nasal membranes must be drying out and cracking.

I hate to admit it, but the dry (no pun intended) and boring answer is the most logical one.

If I needed another reason to purchase a humidifier, I got one today. I was in a meeting going over some paperwork when the person I was meeting with slid a sheet of paper in front me. As my attention shifted from the person to the sheet of paper, I effortlessly breathed out a nice noticeable crusty crimson red booger that had a little piece of nose hair in it.

If this meeting were between Batman and Robin, Robin would have said, “Holy hairy bloody booger, Batman!”

To make matters worse, when the nose crusty rocketed out, it just didn’t hit the table and stay there; the thing skipped like a rock hitting water onto the sheet of paper which both of us was now staring at. And even worse than that, the booger was on her half of the table, and since we were going over this sheet together, I couldn’t just grab the sheet to wipe the booger off.

So the colorful textured booger stayed on the plain white sheet of paper for the rest of the meeting.

...Rack up another awkward Erwin moment provided by yours truly.

Happy Hallmark Holiday!

Lyrics from You and Me by Lifehouse:

What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time

Cause it's you and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you

All of the things that I want to say
Just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words, you got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here

Cause it's you and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to prove
And it's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off you

Something about you now
I can't quite figure out
Everything she does is beautiful
Everything she does is right

Cause it's you and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of

You and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to prove and
It's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you

What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive

Happy Valentine's Day...

-Do not send flowers to anywhere in Washington state. After two years of sending flowers (or at least attempting to) on Valentine's Day, the only one who gets surprised always seems to be me:

Me: So...did you get anything today?
The Chosen One: Nope.
Me: What! Nothing in the mail or on front of the door???
TCO: Nope.
Me: (in my head) Awwwww, (madlib), son of a (madlib), piece of (madlib), not again
Me: (out loud) Ummm, ok. I'll talk to you later.
Me: (in my head) Heads are going to roll...

I digress...I think TV should replace the "bleep" sound with the voice of the guy that you always seem to hear in movie trailers saying "madlib". With bleeps you know it's gonna be some fucking ass shitty bitch swear word. By saying, "madlib" it makes for more interactive TV.

-Before I go any further, Valentine's Day is indeed a Jewish Hallmark holiday. It's just another way to line the pockets of those money grubbing Hallmark bastards. The only reason why I recognize Valentine's Day is, well, I believe in the Holocaust. Wait...before I get e-mails from durkah durkah organizations to join their terrorist cells, let me clarify...I believe that the Holocaust did happen. However, I do not believe that all those people should have been killed. Just some.

-When I was looking for a card, there was this guy also looking for a card. While I was looking carefully and reading what each said for the perfect one, this guy looked at a few card covers, made a seemingly hasty choice and walked off to the register. I do not have a wedding band around my finger; he did. Is there a rule out there in the guys' handbook that states that if a presumably married man is in the act of purchasing a Valentine's Day card that was selected in the section where the card recipient is a man (specifically, "Love: For My Husband"), that another man should warn him to at least take a look at the card to make sure that it's appropriate? Heh, in this day and age, you never know...

-What's worse than spending Valentine's Day alone? Spending it with your parents. In a casino. And listening to them talk about slot machines like they're people. (Example: "The slot machines don't give you anything until 9 PM because there aren't enough people who give them money before then")...Thanks for the enlightenment, I get it now. You give the slot machine enough money, and at night it gives you something back. And I take it that when it gives you something back, you're very excited and happy. Wait a minute...are we talking about slots? Because this sounds more like we're talking about sluts.

-About the card I picked out...I guess Hallmark did some card analysis and there's one card in particular that was picked out the most in different cities around the country. It was the same card I picked out! After spending a good 30 minutes looking at cards, it was like they knew what I was gonna pick all along. It's kinda like that number game where you pick a number and then you add a number to it and then multiply it by some factor, then subtract a number, how everyone ends up with the same number. David Copperfield's Jewish, maybe it's like magic.

Camera!

Karma’s a bitch. Case in point:

After a night of Super Bowl celebrating three years ago, a drunken Carl tripped over himself on the way back to the car. Clumsy Carl…

Bar hopping on President’s Day two years ago, Eric lost his balance and also tripped over himself. Silly Eric…

Last year was supposed to be my turn to trip and fall, but nothing happened. For some reason, I was spared. Or was I?

Karma’s a bitch. And Karma will eventually make you its bitch. And Karma will call you Susie in the process of bitchification (I digress…Or is it bitchisynthesis? No, bitchisynthesis is the onset of menstruation when women go from plain crazy to psycho nuts).

What goes around does indeed come around, and if it doesn’t come right away, be afraid…be very afraid…because all The Powers That Be are doing is stroking themselves a few more times for an even greater money shot between the eyes, your eyes, all for the sake of some divine shits and giggles at your expense.

Karma’s a bitch. Trust me. I now know.

It’s the morning of Super Bowl Sunday, and Carl, Eric and I go fishing. Even though the sun’s out, it’s still February and it’s freaking cold. The river where we are to go fishing is higher than normal, and because of that, we get from one side of land to the other by crossing on a fallen tree trunk.

This is not where I fall. One Power That Be must have told another Power That Be to stroke slower for the time being…

We all cross safely, and a few yards up ahead, Carl says to head to higher ground because the muddy river bank is too slippery to walk through. But in my case, his advice was too little, too late.

Karma’s a bitch. And here comes the money shot…

Kerplunk.



Like the giant turd you dropped this morning from last night’s bean burrito dinner, I slipped on the muddy bank and fell into the river. From the shoulders down, I was submerged under ice cold water. From the neck up, I was feeling the frigid weather more than ever. I don’t know about all those levels that Dante’s hell had, but I do know that there are at least two levels of hell in Tennessee.

Karma’s a bitch. And at the moment, Carl and Eric are its best friends.

This is where the comedy begins…

As soon as I hit the water, I was thinking about the piece of expensive gadgetry around my neck, my non-waterproof 30X zoom digital camera. While most people in freezing waters would scream, “Help!” I couldn’t help but scream, “Camera!”

And being the good friends and quick thinkers that they are, Carl and Eric turned around, saw me in the water, and…grabbed my hand their cameras and started taking pictures of me struggling in the water to get out. I yelled, “Camera!” again, this time raising it up so that Carl and Eric saw it and would hopefully understand to take it up to higher ground. Instead, Eric reached for my camera and tried to take pictures of me with it still in the river trying to get out. It wasn’t until I yelled, “I can’t feel my nuts,” when they finally tried to get me out. I guess a man’s life isn’t in danger until his manhood is being threatened.

Yet another memorable Carl, Eric and Erwin Three Amigo moment…

Super Bowl celebration at The Playing Field


BTW - my camera no longer works. Help me preserve the good times through taking pictures by donating to the Erwin Needs a New Camera Drive by clicking the button on the right. Thanks for your generosity!

Three Amigos in Tennessee: Day Two

Jack Daniels Tour in the morning



Three Men and a Baby in the afternoon


Some observations:

-Carl's bare ass in your face will get anyone in a coma out of bed

-You can't make good French toast from wheat bread. At least Eric can't

-Tennessee mountain men are direct descendants of Gimli from Lord of the Rings

-There's always at least one German tourist on the Jack Daniels tour

-Bringing a baby into a Tennessee restaraunt attracts nothing but the ugliest women Tennessee has to offer

-Chess pie is good. Too bad no one in the entire state of Tennessee knows what's in it

-Number of people who invited us to their grandma's for dinner in one restaraunt sitting: 2

-Using restarunt road rules type rules, what movie do three flaming hetro's randomly choose from Carl's library? Highway Men

-To stink up a car, ask Eric to fart. To stink up a shirt that someone's wearing, ask Carl to fart. To have an entire floor of a house rebuilt - that's my alley

For pics of the entire trip, click here.

Three Amigos Invade Nashville

I put the "TWANG" in country...


...While Tim McGraw's trying to put the twang in me


The Beer Sellar, 99 different beers and we only tried 3


Our Hooters server, Shana. Shana Fact: She's celibant


Me and Eric on the corner of Gay St and Church St


Nashville Kats arena football home opener

Gay or Not Gay?

Princess Dushku-Bubby's birthday princess coronation at Calo:

The Baby

Why it that even though the baby has a name, the baby is still referred to as "the baby"?

Example: Carl, it's your turn to feed the baby. Wake your queer ass up you fat pig!

Other observations while in Tennessee:

*I never thought that throwing your own garbage out in the neighborhood trash compactor could be so much fun.

*In addition to people who can't brake properly, people who talk non-stop also makes me car sick.

The Story of a Missing Friend

Wow, I never thought that the Dumbass of the Year would be found within the first ten days of the new year, but he was found as a missing Edmond caused a few of his friends to celebrate worry about his whereabouts. Luckily, everything turned out OK and I could now make a movie on his harrowing saga...

It's a cold and cloudy Sunday afternoon, an ominous day for a hockey playoff game. Edmond, the hockey team's token Albanian, leaves for the game when he sees two girls:

"How about a pre-game warm-up?"



"Oh crap, I think I dislocated my knee."



"It's the Boogeyman, and I'm comin' to get 'cha."



"Yeah, my knee's really dislocated now."


Don't Ditch Your Hockey Team For Some Play

Coming to a theater near you.

2005: The Year in Review

I'd like to say that 2005 was a great year, but it wasn't. What looked to be a promising year as far as personal expectations go, the year 2005 instead was 365 days going in the wrong direction filled with a lot of dread and misery.

1st Quarter 2005: January - March

Most memorable moment: The Three Amigos reunite in what would be the only get together of the year, wreaking havoc each time a touchdown was scored, "Where's our shot?"

Honorable mentions: Valentine's Day weekend and Cathy's tears of joy...hiking and camping in the Olympic National Rain Forest...meeting the 2005 Hooters calendar girls


2nd Quarter 2005: April - June

Most memorable moment: Spending my birthday weekend with several of my closest friends in the Wisconsin Dells area. I think that was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and by far the best birthday I've ever had to date. I also won't forget the eating exhibition at Famous Dave's ("One more meat") and the look on our server's face at Paul Bunyon's when he saw a fake thumb under a stack of pancakes.

Honorable mentions: Starved Rock and the "grill in the dumpster" dilemma...going to the dentist for the first time in over eight years and having a clean checkup.

Most infamous moment: CIS being sold to now defunct Refco.


3rd Quarter 2005: July - August

Most memorable moment: Having issues getting off a pharoah statue at Luxor Casino in Las Vegas. This also had to be my scariest moment of 2005. I don't remember panicking very much in 2005, but this was definitely one of those times.

Honorable mentions: Hiking through the Valley of Fire desert...Hiking and camping both at Mount Ranier National Park and the San Juan Islands...WWE letter confirming ringside seats for WrestleMania 22.

Most infamous moment (tie): Byran Adams/Def Leppard concert...Finding out the real story behind why I wasn't hired by a certain company in Minnesota - I was screwed...


4th Quarter 2005: September - December

Most memorable moment: Seeing Cathy graduate after a craptacular time getting there.

Most infamous moment: Ending the year unemployed.

Yep. What a shitty way to end the year. So much for ending on a high note. There's always next year, right?

Breaking Kayfabe: Gone Too Soon

I am a fan of professional wrestling.

While others have outgrown the continuous battle between the good guys (faces) and the bad guys (heels), I take pride in what is known as "sports entertainment" because having practically grown up watching pro wrestling, it is truly a part of me. I live for it, breathe it, sleep it and if it was still edible, I'd eat it too (they don't make those ice cream bars anymore).

If you follow wrasslin as closely as I do, then you have a pretty good appreciation for what each of those individuals does no matter how much you like them or hate them and regardless of whether or not they suck. To the "smart mark," you realize that the average wrestler you see on TV is in at least 100 matches a year and spends at least 200 days on the road travelling from small towns to big cities all over the world. And they choose this way of life, wearing away their own bodies and risking injury, to do one thing: to entertain.

Which is the reason Eddie Guerrero's death is so much harder to swallow. Hearing about his death, all I could think of was that it couldn't be true. Maybe it was a relative of his that died. Maybe it was a nasty rumor for the internet wrestling junkies. Then to later have the headline confirmed, reality set it - no more Latino heat, no more lying, cheating and stealing, no more viva la raza, no more cheat to win, no more low riders, no more three amigos, no more going froggy in Eddie's own unique way. Love him or hate him, you had to respect him for the performances he gave, and if you couldn't tell from this list of everything he's done recently, he'll truly be missed.



Eddie, I've followed your storied career for over 15 years. Back when Triple H was Terra Ryzene and Chris Jericho was the Lionheart, you were still Eddie Guerrero, always staying true to yourself till the end. Thanks for the memories, holmes. We're going to miss you. Viva la raza...







(Pics from wwe.com)

Next Year's Halloween Costume

For various non-Jehovah's Witness-type reasons, I think Halloween is my least favorite holiday. I've always wondered what the point was of dressing up for candy when there always seems to be a group of trick or treaters that goes door to door with one kid that doesn't even bother to dress up. While the other kids are dressed up looking adorable in their costumes, when the kid who's decked out in jeans and a plain t-shirt opens his bag and says "Trick or Treat," the sorry get-a-life loser who gets stuck passing out the candy while his friends are out at some Halloween party mingling with hot girls dressed up as hoes who really are skanks but are pretending to be sluts must be thinking one of two things:

1. "A plain-clothed kid. Must be a serial killer."
2. "I wonder how many Snickers bars it would take to get me a hoe, a skank or a slut at that party. I've got 10."

Either way, I bet that plain-clothed kid ends up with more candy at the end of the night.

That being said, I suggest that the new hot costume for next Halloween be an iPod. Not just any iPod, however. Choose whichever version and whatever color your heart desires. Except there is one catch - you have to look like an iPod with the sad face and exclamation point that you get when you turn on one that's fucked beyond repair:



How does one achieve this look? Interesting question because I'm not sure since everywhere I've gone doesn't really give a cause and the solution always seems to be "Apple fucked you for $250 (that's beyond ho, skank or slut status since that costs a lot of Snickers) and you like it and we know you like it because you love that iPod so much we bet you're going to go out and buy another one which was made even more poorly than the one you bought which means we'll see you again and again and again."

So I guess to acheive the look, I guess all you need to do is punch your friend who is dressed up as an iPod (the 4G 20GB one is my personal favorite) where the clickwheel is, which just happens to be strategically positioned over your belly. It'll be cute.

No, not really. I'd rather be a plain-clothed serial killer.

Early Stress at New Job

So, I have this friend (yeah, I know what you're thinking)...

Who recently accepted a new job. My friend lived a clean life, just an occassional drink or seven (at least that's as far as the friend could count before becoming more and more sober) . Then one day, my friend, inspired by Weezer and their song "We Are All on Drugs" decides to smoooooke. Minutes between tokes seem to last for hours, and after a night of red-eyed puffiness and krispy kreme donuts, my friend is feeling pretty damn good...

Until my friend comes back to work and learns that the new job requires new employees to do a drug test as part of the 90-day use me/screw me period. Now my friend is tweaking out (not really, but that's next on my friend's Druggies for Dummies checklist) not only because of the drug test, but because my friend is an Aries..and you know what they say about Aries, those fucking worriers...they don't shit pellets, droppings or whatever women claim they excrete (you know, like how women claim they don't fart or rip, they puff), no, hell no. Aries shit out monster sized Shaquille O' Neals that smell the way your intestines smell if they were turned inside out and baked in a humid Ethiopian sunbath in the middle of some Manhattan sewer.

So now my friend needs to pee in a cup, but this time, there seems to be a lot more at stake than achieving 100 percent accuracy into the cup. To all my "buds" out there, any advice on what my friend can do to pass it? Should my friend even be worried?

Rest In Peace, Kitty

You will be missed.