SD

Mar. 18th, 2011 10:06 pm
opera142: (this shit is bananas)
My interest in Smackdown is at an all-time low. Starting the show off with Edge does nothing to resolve this.

Sign: Edge. Rated X Superstar.

Try Rated-R Superstar. Geez. IF ONLY THE CATCHPHRASE RHYMED THEN IT WOULD EASY TO REMEMBER. Also, if you're fan enough to spend the tedious, ink-stained hours necessary to letter a sign, then shouldn't you be fan enough to know the correct wording of the catchphrase. GEEZ.

Luckily, though it's a Brodus Clay match (MOAR NOT HELPING), Alberto Del Rio's butler skulks out to aid and abet most sullenly. The boy has elevated looking askance to an art form. A scowling, untrustworthy art form.

Christian, recognizing that he bares 51%* of my SD interest, rushes out to roll around with Alberto. Cheap Opera heat, but I appreciate the attempt. Teddy hustles out too, to announce a Christian/Aberto con butler match for later, lest I assume they are done for the night, and wander off to play Frontierville.

Kofi and Sheamus are next. I suppose I should blame the malaise, but I do not give a shit. Sheamus should be the villain I feel giddy over disliking. Musclebound, surly, alpha-male, over-pushed, and yet, MEH. Same with Kofi. I should be giddy over his plucky attitude, his sunny personality, his flippy-shit, his beautiful skin. YET MOAR MEH. I blame the writers. Smackdown doesn't have storylines anymore; it has premises. KOFI HAS LOST MATCHES LATELY. WILL HE LOSE MOAR? or SHEAMUS LOST MANY MATCHES WHEN HE USED TO WEAR THAT UGLY FELT CAPE AND PAPER CROWN BUT HE TOOK IT OFF AFTER SOMEONE FINALLY SAID SOMETHING. WILL HE WIN MOAR MATCHES?

Kane needs to get back to his roots. Got a pretty boy bothering you? Kidnap and bondage, pref. in a boiler room. Seriously, they don't come any prettier than Justin Gabriel these days. Pope did it on TNA last night. You one-upped them with Snookie, now do it with Pretty Boys in Peril. Do it.

Cody Rhodes. BORING. Sign: Dash me Cody. That verb doesn't mean what you are trying to imply. YOU HAVE LOST YOUR SIGN PRIVILEGES, WWE UNIVERSE. At least, Trent got some air time.

Kane told Big Show "You complete me.", and for a second, there was a flash of what wrestling could be: silly-fun and clever, creepy on its own terms, a wacky twisted view of the world.

The moment soon passed.

Shawn Michael's new segment This Mullet's Musings drones on and on about Taker and Triple H and Wrestlemania and other boring stuff.

Layla. Hi!

Oooh. Surprise Maryse and Teddy.

Christian in a cage. Standard fare until the end. Christian hugged his way to victory. But it was spoiled by Edge writing POOPY on Alberto's car.






* Christian - 51%
Alberto's Butler - 39%
Jericho's Not Butler and Justin Gabriel - 9%
Will Trent Baretta be on? - 1%
opera142: (this shit is bananas)
Dreads.

I-went-to-Jamaica-for-spring-break-dreads.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in a corner, weeping and scratching myself.

-_____-

Feb. 27th, 2010 10:17 am
opera142: (bleach)
WWE cut Shane Helms, Paul Burchill and Maria. -____-

Maria, I sort of went hot-n-cold on, though she forever endeared herself to me by lifting that soldier above her head. Helms, I've heard, asked for his release so he could go to TNA and tag with Shannon ( I don't even know where to start wanking about that. HELMS NO. My pussbag characterization of you was done for petty, silly reasons. Life doesn't imitate art. Quit it. Jeez)

Burchill breaks my heart. Hunky, awesome moves, British accent, wore eyeliner. YUM.

If WWE needed to cut payroll in these difficult economic times of corporations getting massive tax breaks (of which WWE got something like 8 million dollars), then WWE should remember that their roster includes The Guy Who Looks Like Cena Got a Role in SoulManII, Shad Gaspar and Michelle McCool.
opera142: (this shit is bananas)
TNA: AJ's new "Limosine ridin', jet-flying, etc." gimmick is bullshit.

Now granted, I put a huge premium on his country-dumb, Christian boy persona, and I can see where bookers would think "that's not gonna get over", or even "It could get over, but it means more work than I want to do.". But their lazness and short-sightedness is not my problem. I'm all for character evolution. Make it natural, though! 180s totally suck, especially when they're an obvious one 180s so a vet can be shoehorned into a storyline.

The Orlando Screwjob was lame. More than lame. Damaging. You can't fricking sell your promotion as a new, vital thing is you're re-hashing 12-year old drama from a stodgy old company. Even WWE couldn't make the Screwjob drama ignite, and they had all the key players.

I have decided that anytime Impact airs, and there is no ODB, Dixie Carter owes me a dollar. Originally, I had decided she would also owe me a dollar anytime the Nasty Boys were on TV, but then I realized no amount of money can soothe the pain of watching those clowns stumble around the ring.

Smackdown: Matt is less bloated!

Maybe it's because he's teaming with Khali, so he just looks thinner. At this point, I'm taking any reason. He also got a win. Yay.

The graphics they've been using are pretty sweet. Sort of a combination of Borderlands and old-timey. Probably says something about the show, if my first praise is for the graphics. The show wasn't terrible-- a very flippy-fun match between Morrison & R.Truth vs Drew and Jericho rocked in the first hour-- but it wasn't great either. Blah-blah-blah got too much screen time. Undertaker's promos get more old-man-crazy each week. Punk shaving peoples' heads has lost its charm (though, that dude can make kissing anyone looking dead sexy).

Batista's head grows a new wrinkle each week. I swear, he's really a shriveled old demon who sucks the lifeforce out of nubile young divas in order to hold his 'roid-poisoned meatsuit together for one more night. I like pretending Vickie G. is a nature witch secretly planning his unnaturally orange demise.

WHY TV WHY

Nov. 5th, 2009 09:05 pm
opera142: (bleach)
-Geez, Jericho. Geez.

-SPN. Sorry me and my vagina bothered to be your fan. Sorry, too, that unattractive people enjoy you, and occasionally convene to share that enjoyment.

-TNA. Don't care if it's a work; don't care if it's real. I hate corporate speeches. I hate corporate think. I hate CEOs who stand before their lowest paid workers and say, essentially "If you don't like it, find another job." I can't get behind any leader who says: When you question things in this company, you're questioning me, and I cannot allow that to happen. Ask AJ about the last time he worked for a wrestling company that was run by outside backers and bragged about having Hogan on their roster.


I always did love that wrestling pilot gimmick.

BAW

Oct. 16th, 2009 03:33 pm
opera142: (this shit is bananas)
STAMFORD, CT – Shane McMahon, Executive Vice President of Global Media, announced today he has tendered his resignation effective January 1, 2010.

This was prompted by...

a)yesterday, while stepping out of the shower he thought: hey, wait a second. I'm super rich. I'm working why?

b)Jesus, who re-hired Chris Masters?

c)his pact with Todd Grisham to run away to a cottage on Maine's seacoast. They'll run a small antique/wine shop in a touristy little town, and on off-season weekends they'll go for long bike rides while wearing brightly colored windbreakers. They'll be so happy, co-chairing the town's summer festival; Todd's book club will the be literary highlight of the area (and responsible for double the sales of Glimmer Train, at the nearest B&N); Shane's special blend mulling spices will revive a local orchard (eat local!). Happy, until a secret from Todd's past threatens to ruin everything they've built...
opera142: (this shit is bananas)
It's Jericho and Regal. Preferably with tea involved. So what's this Show/Jericho nonsense? And sending your husband out to do your dirty work is just cowardly. Boo hiss.

Also, just so you know, if ever a match needed a Jericho gets a bare-assed spanking finish, that was it.

Smackdown

Aug. 15th, 2009 11:15 am
opera142: (crayons)
Smackdown kicks off with a re-cap of Everything Opera Doesn’t Like About Recent Storylines. An orange and wide Heel!Precious (who, btw, isn’t being hounded by Taker---more on that later, and has come back way too soon. heal your gut, lose 20lbs, and quit drinking like Lindsey Lohan), an ever-noble and doing his own thang Jeff Hardy, heel!Punk sans the blue pants with orange stars. Sadly this re-cap doesn’t lead to a lesson (perhaps delivered by Taker in Prussian drag) for the Precious in the subtle yet delicious differences between Good Orange/Bad Orange.

It does, however, lead to a pantsless Punk yelling, mainly about Jeff. When will my Hardy get a half-naked dude, prone to woodies while sweating, scolding him? Pops Hardy doesn’t count, and I’m sure just as there is in wrestling, Jeff got more of that particular chastisement too.

Teddy Long tries to right the evening. He scolds Punk (b-Precious, surely), puts him in a punishment match (another Wrong Thing: face!John Morrison), and pushes his managerial agenda. Except he’s way too nice about it, and no lurid thrills or pleasing terror can slither from the shadow cast by George Jefferson.

Jeff arrives, bringing with him a Great and Terrible Orange. Wal-Mart really needs to stock other aerosol products so the Hardys can throw those things into bonfires. This spray tan nonsense is yet another Thing Opera Doesn’t Like About Recent Storylines. JR claims Jeff walks gingerly, which causes Moe to yell “The Ginger Enigma!” Which causes me to decide that should I ever become a super hero or a stripper, my name will be Ginger Enigma.

Jeff claims “He’s hurt, but he’s here… IN YOUR FACE.” No one has a retort, so the segment flees to a commercial break.

In the dank crypts beneath the arena, the Phantom of the Card torments Runjin. It is revealed Runjin is Khali’s brother. So it’s TWO wrong brothers starring in the kidnap/torment scene. When I demand breadcrumbs, Steph, what I really mean is artisan ciabatta rubbed with olive oil and garlic. Appease me, and quickly!

Also backstage, but apparently not caring about federal crimes being committed by his employees while on workplace premises, is Teddy Long. Mr. McMahon reminds him he’s on probation and makes him book a handicap match between Jeff and the Hart Dynasty. Fine, Vince. I put Steph on probation!

More Finlay, Mike Knox, and Dolph Ziggler nonsense. Why does Rey have to get all these guys over? Can’t Hunter make a star or two for once? Maria and Melina wonder about that too, until Layla tells them the camera’s on.

Punk and Morrison wrestle. Finally, some swooning at the sublime can happen. Flippy and counter-y and smooth execution and Smackdown should be 1hr45mins of them wrestling each other, and few minutes of M. Hardy doing things that I will complain about.

More Kane and Runjin. Kinda-sorta lurid thrills to go with Punk and Morrison’s sublimeness. If only there weren’t 875412886 logic errors in this.

Melina pinned Layla in a stunning upset. Cryme Tyme lost to Big Show in a stunning defeat. Jericho was cloaked behind JR, at the announcer’s table, lest he incite the crowd to cheering or caring or getting their money’s worth.

Khali comes to Runjin’s rescue. Since Teddy wouldn’t call the police, Khali had to call himself. After a wee bit of bondage/ropeplay, Kane and Khali get into the harder stuff. Then Kane leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Oh look, it’s Jeff Hardy being the noble, injured, beset upon, outnumbered face fighting the good fight. More flippy, and anytime Tyson Kid yells (he sounds like Chris Tucker) I’m entertained. The match goes haywire, Punk then Morrison show up and brawl. The Precious blunders in, on the lam for jacking X-Pac’s bandana. Moe laughs at the Precious’ voluminous mumu, and I sulk so thoroughly it takes me minutes to realize, Matt got a haircut. It’s an awful Gavin Rossdale bob, but it’s a start. He also seems to go face, which I distrust as he made over-the-top, ACK-tingesque gestures with the hand Jeff broke. Smackdown ends as I peer suspiciously at my television screen. Probation for nearly everyone!
opera142: (Default)
Raw. Because Insane Clown Posse was already booked at the Washburn County Fair.
opera142: (bleach)
ZZ Top, really Steph? Really?
opera142: (this shit is bananas)
I am doomed.

Wendy's has coffee-flavored Frosties.

If anyone needs me, I'll be at Steph's, trying to borrow some stretchy pants.

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