Wow... I am absolutely exhausted tonight. I did some really big squats tonight, with my new weights, hitting 3 top sets of 2 with 445, after warming up with 225, 295, 345, 365, 395 and 415. This was followed with a front squat progression, using cross grip because my wrists aren't loose enough to use a clean grip, finishing up at 315. My legs, as you can imagine, are completely blasted and my back feels compressed like a well squeezed accordion.... I mean, honestly, right now you could probably play "I Been Working on the Railroad" on my spine. On the other hand, tonight is my night to watch WWE Smackdown! with my sister, and in spite of Magical Mexican Midgets, CM Punk pitching fits (the M is for Man-whore) and the fairly incoherent ramblings of Kane, PI, Smackdown allows me to see Captain Charisma, Christian Cage, do his thing (which he did big time against Drew McIntyre and his lisp AND in diabetes, tonight) and, of course, and most wonderfully, the most amazing person in WWE, my darling little English muffin... LAYLA!
Tonight my utterly precious (and slightly annoying) dearest is supposed to be facing Tiffany. Tiffany has a pretty smile and (I've seen em in person twice and, yeah, no kidding) a pair of the best legs in history, so this match oughta be pretty. But wait! But hark! According to Vickie Guerrero, the Women's Championship belt will be defended, tonight, by my Layla's BFF, Michelle McCool! What a tragedy! This is not to be countenanced! Eh, oh well, whatever... it's not a bad match, and Michelle is a really good wrestler, and Layla is still hopping around and fussing adorably, so it's not like we're missing the really good parts of a Layla match (minus her selling) or anything, right? Tiffany has impressed me so much with her development in the past few months, too, since the end of the ECW brand. She started as an absolutely terrible wrestler, and now she's actually developed into something of a powerhouse. I like her very strong, physical style and look forward to seeing more of her (and her legs) in the future!
Showing posts with label michelle mccool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label michelle mccool. Show all posts
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
What is a real man? 3: Things to say and/or not say about/to people on the internet
I'm going to grouch a little bit, tonight, I think. Maybe it's because I've been feeling a little sick all day, or because I've been really, really hungry, or because I lifted weights in my gym, which is basically a vinyl box, when the heat index was a little over 100 degrees... although not 113 like it was earlier, today. At any rate, I'm feeling like something of a grouch, so I'm going to grumble a bit more about the way men act towards young ladies--young wrestling workers, since that's who I follow on twitter and interact with some--on the internet.
One, ahem, gentleman on a relatively well known wrestling message board (which is usually readable, well, at least in it's WWE section... it's TNA section is awful) wrote, regarding the TNA Knockouts, "wow I can't tell these bitches apart they all look the same." Really, as the Miz would say, really? Can you really not tell them apart? If we go back a little bit in time, could you not discern ODB--a short, drunk, stocky redneck--from Amazing Kong, a gargantuan woman with dreadlocks and smooth, brown ocher skin from Alissa Flash, a small, well muscled dream girl with long, inky hair and strange eye-makeup? Can you not tell Daffney, a pale, quirky Goth tomato who screams a lot, covered in colorful tattoos, from Hamada, a thickly built, strapping Japanese woman more physically imposing than most of the X-Division? You must be blind, friend.
Or maybe I'm being unfair... I'm bringing into this women who are no longer Knockouts and who were not part of the segment that this fellow was commenting on. Maybe he really couldn't tell Sarita, a sultry Latin brunette, from Angelina love, a tall rocker chick, from Madison Rayne, a ferocious little ferret with a terrible weave, from Taylor Wilde, a large headed blond Canadian midget. Maybe the additions of Lacey von Erich and Vel Vel--who have completely different sizes, builds and bone structures--confused him, or maybe it was the mystery biker woman? Well, the biker woman's helmet and Taylor Wilde's head are of a similar size, so maybe that was it? Heh... sorry... I just cannot resist picking on Taylor; it's one of my fortes.
Anyway, the problem I see in all of this is that a young man who would say this about these young women--about any young women--is that he fails to see them as people. He only experiences these girls as props, something to stimulate his lizard hormonal centers. His gaze, to paraphrase Barbara Kruger, hits the sides of their faces and, not really seeing, doesn't perceive a person; his gaze, his male gaze (see Jaques Lacan and Laura Mulvey) and this, according to thinkers like Hannah Arendt and Martha Craven Nussbaum, is where misogyny, othering and dehumanization begin.
Another issue I'd like to bring up is what I saw on the twitter accounts belonging to Michelle McCool (or would it be Michelle Calloway now? very cool that!) and Miss Layla El (that wonderful little English muffin to all the world): "mslayel “@McCoolMichelleL: Note to twitterers who hate....it's cool, BUT you're gonna get blocked dropping F bombs....REAL TALK:)” Seriously !!"
Okay, for one thing, to paraphrase Riley Freeman, I don't messes around with ya if ya messes around with Layla, dig? That's one of the cutest chicks in the world, and she seems sweet as she can be, like pie or honey, so how are you going to swear at her on twitter? Michelle has the freaking Undertaker to tape his fists up for her, so I don't feel compelled to say as much, but this is yet another example of people mistreating young women for no reason other than they are bullies, small men by definition, and want to feel bigger. I don't know if the problem is sociological or psycho-sexual, but it doesn't impress anybody when you insult and abuse a girl for a character that she plays... "REAL TALK!" as my dear Flawless Ones would say.
I guess what I'm getting at here, at the bottom of things, is best summed up by John Gabriel's Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory.
Anonymity yields the opportunity to mouth off without getting your face kicked out the back of your head, Kaval style, and with an audience added it can only lead to disaster. So don't be a GIF, friends and neighbors... listen to Gabriel. He's right. Well, there is a first time for everything, after all, eh?
One, ahem, gentleman on a relatively well known wrestling message board (which is usually readable, well, at least in it's WWE section... it's TNA section is awful) wrote, regarding the TNA Knockouts, "wow I can't tell these bitches apart they all look the same." Really, as the Miz would say, really? Can you really not tell them apart? If we go back a little bit in time, could you not discern ODB--a short, drunk, stocky redneck--from Amazing Kong, a gargantuan woman with dreadlocks and smooth, brown ocher skin from Alissa Flash, a small, well muscled dream girl with long, inky hair and strange eye-makeup? Can you not tell Daffney, a pale, quirky Goth tomato who screams a lot, covered in colorful tattoos, from Hamada, a thickly built, strapping Japanese woman more physically imposing than most of the X-Division? You must be blind, friend.
Or maybe I'm being unfair... I'm bringing into this women who are no longer Knockouts and who were not part of the segment that this fellow was commenting on. Maybe he really couldn't tell Sarita, a sultry Latin brunette, from Angelina love, a tall rocker chick, from Madison Rayne, a ferocious little ferret with a terrible weave, from Taylor Wilde, a large headed blond Canadian midget. Maybe the additions of Lacey von Erich and Vel Vel--who have completely different sizes, builds and bone structures--confused him, or maybe it was the mystery biker woman? Well, the biker woman's helmet and Taylor Wilde's head are of a similar size, so maybe that was it? Heh... sorry... I just cannot resist picking on Taylor; it's one of my fortes.
Anyway, the problem I see in all of this is that a young man who would say this about these young women--about any young women--is that he fails to see them as people. He only experiences these girls as props, something to stimulate his lizard hormonal centers. His gaze, to paraphrase Barbara Kruger, hits the sides of their faces and, not really seeing, doesn't perceive a person; his gaze, his male gaze (see Jaques Lacan and Laura Mulvey) and this, according to thinkers like Hannah Arendt and Martha Craven Nussbaum, is where misogyny, othering and dehumanization begin.
Another issue I'd like to bring up is what I saw on the twitter accounts belonging to Michelle McCool (or would it be Michelle Calloway now? very cool that!) and Miss Layla El (that wonderful little English muffin to all the world): "mslayel “@McCoolMichelleL: Note to twitterers who hate....it's cool, BUT you're gonna get blocked dropping F bombs....REAL TALK:)” Seriously !!"
Okay, for one thing, to paraphrase Riley Freeman, I don't messes around with ya if ya messes around with Layla, dig? That's one of the cutest chicks in the world, and she seems sweet as she can be, like pie or honey, so how are you going to swear at her on twitter? Michelle has the freaking Undertaker to tape his fists up for her, so I don't feel compelled to say as much, but this is yet another example of people mistreating young women for no reason other than they are bullies, small men by definition, and want to feel bigger. I don't know if the problem is sociological or psycho-sexual, but it doesn't impress anybody when you insult and abuse a girl for a character that she plays... "REAL TALK!" as my dear Flawless Ones would say.
I guess what I'm getting at here, at the bottom of things, is best summed up by John Gabriel's Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory.
Anonymity yields the opportunity to mouth off without getting your face kicked out the back of your head, Kaval style, and with an audience added it can only lead to disaster. So don't be a GIF, friends and neighbors... listen to Gabriel. He's right. Well, there is a first time for everything, after all, eh?
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