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Raven's Log
Stardate: 11.27.03
This feels awfully self indulgent writing about myself, but hell, I'm an egomaniac, so what the fuck?
My ankle hurts. I superkicked Northcutt the Redshirt tonight at the TNA Asylum. He crowded me and jammed my already damaged ankle. I had my trusty associate, riding companion and partner in debauchery Erik Watts try to pop it back in place, but his uncoordinated spastic retardation prevented him from doing something a monkey with Down's Syndrome and two broken paws could have done.
We are currently riding in the car together and I am giving him the finger. It's a three-hour ride from Nashville to Atlanta and my finger is getting tired. Erik Watts has just told me shush because that gay ass Phil Collins' song "In The Air Tonight" came on. Nothing against homosexuals but come on, what a fag.
I have decided I am going back to calling my matches in the ring. Sunday night, against "The French Fries" Shane Douglas, we had a hell of a match and only set up the finish, and then had to call an audible on that to make it work as well as it did (AAAARGGHHH, Watts is now listening to Jimmy Buffett).
Now back to my previous train of thought ...
As Stone Cold Steve Austin said to me, "We no longer work, we perform" (and that means wizork to all you smizark fans). Austin is absolutely correct. Eventually, I will discuss this subject at length, right now I'm too lazy.
As these writings continue, I will not only regale you with anecdotes from the ring but also tales of my subhuman exploits. One would think that with all the decadence that I have been apart of, I would be loathe to discuss these adventures but one would be wrong.
I never really know how to end these things (even though this is only my second one) ... so piss off.
In a car listening to Jane's Addiction (my choice) by mile marker 305 in Georgia.
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