The grandest stage of them all

Tonight is the WWE‘s biggest pay-per-view of the year, Wrestlemania. It’s a four-hour spectacle, wherein I and the members of the Nuthouse gather and gorge ourselves while watching grown men beat each other senseless.

The match line-up looks good, although would it fucking kill them to have some cruiserweight shit? Seriously, Mark Henry and the Boogeyman get matches, but no love for Paul London? Scandalous, especially when you consider there’s a Playboy pillow fight. Nope, nope… nobody wants to see wrestling with cool bumps and high spots. They’d much rather see two women they’ve already seen naked pillowfight in lingerie. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

It’s a fun evening, probably one of the things I look most forward to every year. This year, I’ll be joined by the wife, which means she’ll either end up enjoying the hell out of herself or leaving after an hour for the more mature company of our young sons.

Hopefully, it’ll be the usual blast that it is, and I’ll be up far too late. That doesn’t bother me at all this go-’round, as I have tomorrow off work, allowing me to eat myself rather sick on the smorgasbord of junk food that we usually drag together. Interesting fact: rarely, if ever, is there alcohol. It’s far more fun to get jacked up on caffeine and enjoy it that way than to get blitzed and not remember something that costs fifty bucks. And that’s from a man who likes his whiskey.

Peter Gabriel – “Big Time (Wrestlemania 22 theme song)