Welcome back to Deadface Walking, now a whole year old! Yeah, I'm aware that I pulled a MAJOR Scott Hall on my actual anniversary date - kiss my ass, and the lazy folks at Verizon can kiss it twice. Ahem. So what if it's almost three weeks after the actual date of my anniversary? I still want to celebrate, damn it! On top of that, I already had most of the following written: It seems like yesterday that a Google search of my name brought up nothing but imposter Catherines who play soccer and act in obscure films, but now I, THE TRUE CATHERINE PEREZ, can be found... at the bottom of Google's first page, mentioned in the summary under the link to 2007's Fanny Awards. But it's a start! I'm thinking maybe next year Google will actually link my column somewhere near the first five or six pages. Through the last year, this spiffy little column has appealed to wrestling fans from California to Punjab, India - yes, Khali's hometown - which is just awesome. I've snubbed a ton of school work for Deadface - mostly because I'd rather make fun of Ashley Massaro turning into powder than write an essay on the fall of the Roman Empire - and while it most likely won't benefit me to feel this way in the long run, fuck college. That's right, kids. Fuck college. That all being said, let's get into Deadface, now with 100% more fun facts about me and the column peppered in (for this week only)! Happy [super duper fucking belated] anniversary to meeeee~!
Amazon.com's got one hell of an offer for you TNA fans out there... somewhere. If you pre-order the new TNA iMPACT! game from Amazon, you will be sent an in-game character unlock code in which you can play as the man of many faces (most of them frozen with apathy)... MIKE TENAY~! Holy shit, seriously? This Amazon.com exclusive purchasing gift opportunity won't be around for long, and not because they're all dying of embarrassment, so hurry on up TO THE BACK of the eerily empty Mike Tenay bandwagon and pre-order TNA iMPACT today! Besides, who wouldn't want to laugh as Tenay sloshes about in an Ultimate X match as in-game Don West struggles to comprehend how Tenay can be calling the action beside him and also receiving the beating of a lifetime in their INNOVATIVE SIX-SIDED RING. Holy shit, I'm totally buying this game.
CATHERINE FUN FACT~!: Though I am of Puerto Rican descent, I can barely carry a casual conversation in Spanish. It's true, and I blame living everyday American life. And you.
What the fuck happened to the object of my seldom-seen fangirl affection, Raven? Recently, Raven won the CWA World Heavyweight Championship all while sporting the most shocking thing he's ever worn:
A FUCKING ALMOST-SKULLET.
Did Raven recently remove a red mask with a full head of hair attached to it? Good God, James Mitchell sure did fuck this poor guy's hair up with those sheep shearers years ago. Skullets are fucking gross; they remind me of the subway ghost from that movie Ghost - and everyone knows that exposure to skullets causes cancer; just ask Patrick Swayze (oh, don't get offended like you're such a big Swayze fan). Hell, tons of wrestling stars have consulted the guys at Medical Hair Restoration; guys like Chavo Guerrero, Tommy Dreamer and "The Mouth of the South" Jimmy Hart have spiffy hair to show off now. Raven, if you ever read this (fat chance, I know)... please, I'm begging you as someone who just about worships the ground you walk upon... fix your fucking cranium. It's depressing me (and tons of other Raven fans, I'm sure). You don't have to look like you're 43 years old, for fuck's sake.
DEADFACEY FUN FACT~!: Where did the name "Deadface Walking" come from? Being a huge Undertaker fan at the time (not so much now), I, being a lazy fart, left my "This Is My Yard" DVD on, looping the main menu screen whose background music consists of Undertaker bellowing "Deadman walking" before the eternally horrible Rollin' by Limp Bizkit plays. At the time, I was also browsing the MySpace profile of a girl who calls herself Bitchface. So there you go.
As many of you have noticed, Joey Styles has left his commentating duties to run WWE.com. Witnesses say he scrambled out of the arena screaming, "THANK YOU, SWEET JESUS~!" Or perhaps not. The final nail in the coffin of the ECW we knew and loved has turned out not to be THE ZOMBIE, but rather Mike Adamle, a guy with the enthusiasm of a zombie. It's like we've come full-circle. On his first night of calling the action alongside Tazz, Adamle had already left us with much to ridicule. With cheesetastic liners such as "Jamaican me craaazy, Kofi," and "Unos, dos, adios~!" it's clear that anyone who loves to witness Wrestlecrap in the making needs to start watching ECW now. Sure, it's exactly what Vince wants, so says Paul Heyman, but this is stuff to tell our grandkids someday, seriously. And like Adamle might say himself, "Where else will you see exciting stars like Tommy Dreamweaver, Coffee and Creamston, Big Daddy the Fifth, and the ECW Champ, Kane-ye West?" Good God. Somewhere, "Sheldon" Benjamin weeps.
Tazz: 'Ey yo, not fer nuffin', but you fuckin' suck.
Adamle: That's right, The Tazz~! And here's another guy who used to suck - literally, hehehe - KALVIN THORNS!
Adamle is some kind of bad omen - an absolutely hilarious bad omen. I don't think raining frogs were ever this funny. The episode where he joins ECW turned out to be the very same where Tazz, who was once a scary bad-ass with an angry disposition, danced. He fucking danced, and I'll have you know that Tazz dancing is one of the seven signs of the apocalypse. We've already seen Scotty Too Hotty shitcanned, and with Tazz shaking his little caboose, I say it's time that we hide under our desks and await further instruction. What's next, Don West whispering? Show of hands: who'd rather have the strangely-voiced Bobcat Goldthwait call the matches?
CATHERINE FUN FACT~!: I am a big fan of Rob Van Dam's ass. I think he's got the best ass in pro-wrestling, and I'm not just saying this because I secretly pray that Rob someday reads this and sends me a picture of his ass. I mean, really.
Michael Hayes has been pitching for Triple H to jump over to SmackDown. HAHAHAHAHAHA! Good fucking luck with THAT! I'm willing to bet that Triple H himself must've nearly died of laughter at the suggestion! While we're pitching for things that will never happen, how about bringing back the Cruiserweight title and elevating it to "We actually give a shit" status? Hayes would sooner find a way to make Festus get as over as The Rock. Considering that Trips hasn't exactly boosted Raw ratings since his return, what's the point of jumping him to a program that's going to be facing a major ratings plummet anyway, once it moves to the infinitely obscure MyNetworkTV, um, Network (I'm calling it now, folks!), which Wikipedia says is "the second lowest-rated major English-language broadcast network in the United States, ahead of only ION Television"? He'd be back on Raw within a week - you know, like last time.
DEADFACEY FUN FACT~!: Deadface Walking was once asked to pose for Playboy. Okay, maybe that's not true, but the cover would've been absolutely sexy.
Speaking of Trips, he's this year's poster boy for Judgment Day. The poster itself is fantastic, in my opinion. Since I'm such a paranormal geek, I was thrilled to find out that the photo shoot for this poster took place at the allegedly haunted Mansfield Reformatory, which is also where filming for the Shawshank Redemption took place. Awesome. Definitely buying this one.
THE ULTIMATE WARRIAH IS BACK~! That's right! After accepting an award looking like a post-wrestling career Damian Demento, and getting into a heated conflict with Orlando fucking Jordan, it looks like Warrior will be making his return to pro-wrestling this June after a 12-year absence. Unfortunately, this return will not be in WWE, but in NWE, in a match against Orlando fucking Jordan, so this has therefore been your least interesting news bit of the week.
Ryan Seacrest: Welcome back to PART 2~! of Hey Man Nice Shoot's special edition - "WHERE'S ABYSS?". After Week One's disastrous turnout, Catherine decided to take a long, hard look at herself for a few weeks. But now she's BACK and ready to go for round two as she continues her search for the next American I--- er, continues her search for the elite search party. Let's join in as the auditions are already in progress...
[Chyna walks into the room, looking like the not-so-hot mess she usually looks like.]
Awww, fuck. I thought you were done with pro-wrestling.
Chyna: I will do anything to get my name out to the masses.
Why do I do this to myself? Look, Joanie, I've got a "no crazed hermies" policy, and, unlike Jeff Hardy, I like to uphold my policies. If I let you in, then Nicole Bass and Kevin Kelly are going to storm in here asking to be on my team, and I just can't allow that.
Chyna: HEY, THAT'S NOT A DICK, ALRIGHT?!
And this isn't me saying NEXT~!
HEY, DON'T BLAME GOD FOR THAT FLESH-TONED MONOPOLY THIMBLE IN YOUR COOTER.
Chyna: It's not a dick! How else can I have these tits?!
Ask every tranny ever. And Sabu. And, look, I saw you on Celebrity Rehab - God help the guy who cast you as a celebrity - and the way you were vehemently denying any and all drug use got me thinking. Have you ever researched elevated testosterone in women?
Chyna: Why would I? I don't use that! I'm clean!
Mhm. Yeah, so, I'll have you know that elevated testosterone in chicks causes symptoms such as, drumroll please... an enlarged clitoris~! I totally found you out with a simple Google search, and you are therefore now pwned for life. NEXT~!
[Chyna runs out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably. In walks ODB, kicking her leg out like she's shaking rats off.]
You know, I just told Chyna that---
ODB: Whoa, lady, I ain't no dude!
I'll try to take your word for it. So, exactly what association do you have with Abyss?
ODB: Oh, man, this one time I was chuggin' on some Sam Adams, and like, Abyss walked by screamin' about somethin' about havin' a shitty storyline, and the dude knocks right into me, right? So my beer goes flyin' right into the guy's face, and, turns out the beer makes Abyss's mask come right off. Dude ain't too bad lookin' with the right kinda lightin' and all that.
So you've seen him unmasked?
ODB: Yeah, dude!
Why didn't you just say that? Christ. Either way, I suppose your knowledge of Abyss's facial features should come in handy. Welcome to my team, and don't you dare get drunk during the trip.
ODB: Alright, man! I'm gonna go celebrate with a couple of 40-ounces!
No, don't do that!
ODB: Three 40-ounces, good thinking!
[ODB slinks off with her yellow paper.]
I came back to this why? NEXT!
[Simon Dean jogs into the room, smiling like he just found out WWE wanted him back.]
What the fuck? You're more of a shock than Chyna!
Dean: It's not a dick!
Heh, you'd know, right?
Dean: Listen here, Porky Pig. Chyna is a fine example of what a woman should look like!
[Dean suddenly bursts into uproarious laughter.]
What the fuck?
Dean: Hahahaha! I'm sorry, Chyna put me up to it. There's no way anyone on earth can say that with a straight face!
Don't I know it. So, what brings you here, Dean?
Dean: Have you seen Abyss lately?
No, actually. That's kind of the point of all of this.
Dean: No, no, I mean have you seeeeen him? Those thunder thighs, that gut, that lard ass! Abyss is clearly in dire need of a personal trainer!
And you want to join my team to show him a few squats?
Dean: You've got it!
We're trying to find the guy, not help him along to an eating disorder.
Dean: Oh, come on! All he's gotta do is try one of my patented Simon System shakes!
Your shakes are shit! They haven't been manufactured in years! Man, get the fuck out of here!
Dean: Hey, I don't need you to be my stepping stone to TNA! I DON'T NEED ANYBODY!
FINE WITH ME, ASSFACE.
[Dean storms out, narrowly dodging a vase being thrown in his direction.]
Someone please get me my Tylenol. NEXT~!
[Real American begins to play, and everyone outside of the audition room beings to scream and cheer wildly.]
What the hell?
[Hulk Hogan charges into the room with a hand cupped to his ear. He approaches the judging table of ultimate importance and repeatedly cups his ear near Catherine's face, which has become frozen with uncaring.]
Hogan: Dude, you're kinda ruining the whole Hogan schtick. I cup my ear, you scream. It's pretty simple, brother.
Shouldn't you be sorting your life out right now?
Hogan: What better way to enjoy the days of yesteryear, brother, than to bask in the adoration of my millions of Hulkamaniacs, DUDE?
Wow. I mean your family life. Make amends with Linda, tell Brooke that perhaps a music career isn't in her future, beat the shit out of Nick to show him what discipline's all about... you know, that kind of thing.
Hogan: Can't I just pit them against each other on American Gladiators, brother?
Actually, that'd make for some sweet TV. You know what, Hogan? You're a big name in the media, and it'd definitely help if we could let the world know we're looking for Abyss. You're in, dude!
Hogan: That's what I'm talkin' about, brother!
[Hogan struts out of the room with a yellow slip as his music blares on. Mind you, the fucking track hasn't stopped playing since Hogan's arrival. Finally, the tune comes to an abrupt stop.]
[Black Machismo and Macho Man Randy Savage enter, slapping each other's hands like a couple of pansies.]
What the hell is going on here?
Savage: OHHHHHHH NO~! This imposter here is posing as me to try to get onto your team!
Black Machismo: The Black Machismo poses as no one, DIG IT?!
Savage: That's my catchphrase!
Machismo: You said I could use it!
Savage: I must've been snappin' into Alzheimer's!
Dear God, both of you, shut the fuck up. Since you guys just can't settle your differences, there's no way I'm taking both of you with me. That being said, let me ask you both... why should I let you on my team? Savage, I'll start with you.
Savage: OHHHHHHH YEAH~! I'm the Macho fuckin' MAN! What else needs to be said? Ladies love to snap into my Slim Jim!
Oh, that line is so tired.
Machismo: Speakin' of tired... OHHHHHH YEE-UH~! Who'd want some old fart on their team? I, the Black Machismo, am at the prime of adulthood! Besides, if a then-16-year-old Stephanie McMahon would've snapped into my then-8-year-old Slim Jim, she'd have been behind bars faster than you could say DIG IT!
That's disgusting, but good point. Savage, a rebuttal? And don't mention your Slim Jim.
Savage: Um... I'm out of catchphrases.
Ugh. Jay Lethal Machismo of Darkness, welcome to my team. Now, both of you get out of here.
[Black Machismo leaves with his yellow paper as Macho Man leaves with the pungent stench of defeat... or is that Stephanie's cooter? HAR HAR HAR HAR!!!]
[Some of the worst DJ work you'll ever hear in your life blares over, well, somewhere. Curry Man shakes and shimmies his way into the room.]
Curry Man, you have some of the worst music I've ever heard in pro-wrestling, but, my God is your entrance fantastic.
Curry Man: Arigatou, Kyasurin-san!
Uh, domo. And it's Catherine. Now, Curry, wouldn't a language barrier render you useless in a team such as the one I'm assembling?
Curry Man: Honestly, it's just a front. I pretend to not know English, just in case TNA decides to fire me again.
Again? What do you mean, 'again'?
Curry Man: Uh... nothing. Nothing at all.
You know, you sure sound a hell of a lot like Christopher Daniels. And if I'm not mistaken, you sure do have his eyes.
Curry Man: Um... er... sore wa fukanou desu. Machigattemasu! [TRANSLATION~!: It's impossible. You're wrong!]
Right... [Leaning over to a nearby security guard and whispering] You know, I'll bet if I added this guy to my team, I could find out his true identity eventually. [Turning back to Curry Man] Curry, I like you, and your ridiculous dancing is infectious enough to lull Abyss into a false sense of security before we drag him back to Orlando. Now take your glorified yellow paper and shake your ass outta here.
[Curry Man takes his paper and dances his way out of the room.]
Yeaaah, shake that ass! Ahem. NEXT!
[Some mystery person in black robes slowly enters the room. He or she steps onto the stage and just stands there.]
And what is it you're going to do?
[The cloaked figure pulls out a bag and dumps its contents, a heaping helping of sand, onto the floor.]
I was kind of hoping those were thumbtacks, and you'd better pull a broom out of that bag right about now, asswipe.
[The cloaked figure steps onto the sand and quickly disintegrates into it, leaving only the cloak.]
OH SNAP~! DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT SHIT RIGHT THERE?!
[The sand then forms into Ashley Massaro, who sticks her arms out as if to say "TA-DAAHHHH~!"]
...God damn it. Didn't I already kick you to the curb weeks ago?
Ashley: I didn't think you'd remember. So, like, can I be on the team now that I've amazed you with my super-cool sand powers?
Ashley: Oh, come on! I'm the ultimate in stealth technology!
Dude, you're not anything technological! You're just a clumsy botchamaniac! Now, seriously, go away.
Ashley: Awww, but the Egyptian queens love me.
So go look for Abyss in Egypt. Don't come back until he turns up. NEXT~!
[Ashley explodes into a sand storm and flies out the door.]
Christ, she's pushy.
[Suddenly, the four corners of Catherine's desk explode into flames.]
HOLY SHIT, WRESTLEMANIA'S PYRO'S LANDED HERE! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
[Kane boredly sloshes into the room, carrying the ECW World Title belt.]
RED AL--- Oh, it's Kane! Heeey, Kaaaane! Say, I didn't know you were ECW Champ, and possibly neither does the rest of the world, so allow me to be the first to say congratulations! Must be a hell of an honor to be carrying that plastic thing.
Kane: Not really. My life couldn't be shittier right now. Ever since Lita left me, things just haven't been the same.
You might want to backtrack to the night you lost the mask. Look at you, Kane. You're a miserable wreck. You used to be so bad-ass, and all of that went right down the shitter after you turned into some towel-wearing, angsty teenager.
Kane: [On the verge of tears.] I know! But it's not my fault!
I know, Kane. I know. But look on the bright side: at least the fans still cheer for you. And you're not living out another Katie Vick storyline.
Kane: I'd rather kill myself than go through that one again.
We all would. So, today's your lucky day, Kane.
Really. See, I happen to be a licensed life coach.
Kane: You are?
Well... not really. But who better to coach you on life than someone who never had Triple H impersonate her while dry humping a mannequin? You've gotta get your life back together, so I'll be more than glad to have you on my team. And your brother's coming too, isn't that great?
Kane: Eh... I'm sick of seeing him.
I'll bet. So, yeah, welcome to my team!
Kane: [Shedding a tear.] You're too kind, Catherine.
After laughing at various Benoit jokes, it's the least I can do... to save myself from eternal damnation in Hell.
[Kane bursts out of the door in slow motion, waving his yellow slip in the air as I Want to Know What Love Is by Foreigner plays in the background. Kane hugs everyone around him as they celebrate very slowly.]
What a moving way to wrap up my team search. Ryan Seacrest, do your little show-ending monologue-type thing!
Seacrest: It's been a nerve-wracking few weeks, but Catherine's team is finally assembled! Seven men---
ODB: I'm a WOMAN!
Seacrest: ...seven men - Undertaker, Don West, ODB, Hulk Hogan, Black Machismo, Curry Man, and Kane - will join Catherine on the ultimate search for Abyss. Do they have what it takes to survive the competition?
It's not a competition, anuspastry!
Seacrest: Oh. Join us next week as the search begins! SEACREST, OUT~!
And that's (finally) it for this week's Deadface Walking! Thank you, Jesus. My fingers are just about ready to fall off. And, hey, it's almost 1 in the morning as I type this, so let me just end with this: thank you very much for reading, sorry for not spell-checking, feel free to leave feedback, and make sure to check out all of the great updates of the week! BY THE WAY! Congratulations to Sean Carless and TheWrestlingFan.com for a wonderful FIVE years! Here's to five more years of Lita jokes and not entirely acknowledging Booker Bear as our site mascot. PEREZ, OUT~! Oh my God, that's so fucking lame...
THE TWF "MENTAL WELLNESS TEST!"
With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).