Yes, I still love you Botan.  Just been a while.

WWE is trash.  I still strive to write/wrestle/commentate/pleasure women for them in ten years, but with Triple H banging dead bodies, I am having a hard time imagining them still standing in a decade.

I came up with a WONDERFUL idea for a novel today.  As you know, I am ALL about the character development in my story telling, and this should kick ass when I write it.

I still desperately need some sexual congress with a hot woman.

Jack's tourney fell through.  Wow, who saw that coming.  Anyway, I decided to retire elsewhere.  The AW.

Now the AW is run by two familar faces.  Razor Blade and Painkiller.  Yep, the two guys who used to worship the ground I walked on.  Well, Razor has converted in the time away from me, but PK still adores me.  Anyway, the story here is that Jack and I really want a tag legacy to go along with my singles legacy and his jobbing legacy, so we went to AW to become tag team champions.  Also, we have these excellent RPs planned out that will conclude our characters and take everything we've ever done in e-wrestling to new heights while paying homage to all those who inspire us.

Unfortunately, as aforementioned, Razor does not like us anymore, and likes our RPs even less.  We are, as usual, being screwed royally in ways never imagined before.  It's not all his fault either.  There are one or two other standards that are probably more involved in the situation than him, but it really doesn't matter.  As long as we get the RPs written and published in some form, we'll be content.  The tag team success is secondary.

What else...I hate the WWE right now.  I love the NFL however.  Angels will win the World Series.  Chargers will reach the Super Bowl or come damn close (AFC Championship).  And the Lakers will win again, but for the last time.

Shit, that's all I got.  Watch Cowboy Bebop, it is a masterpiece which cannot be touched.  Same with Frailty.

Go Trish.  She won the Internet Hot Woman award again, second time in a row.  Her ass should be my "pumping bag".  Or something like that.

Pimp Industries is dead.  Jack and I, as it was in the beginning, are all that is left.  So be it.

On the Creach Star Rating scale, life right now is about at ***.  Definitely could be better, but I guess I have no real complaints.

I'm Out.
 
 
 

ct