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By Catherine Perez


Welcome back to Deadface Walking...

Belated Birthday Edition of Major Ass-Kickery~!

Which basically just means it's the same fucking column as always, but with... a more festive atmosphere? Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, to save myself from rambling, let's get right into it.

Upon Michael Hayes's return to Smackdown on June 24th, he apologized to Mark Henry and all the black wrestlers, who are conveniently 99% peppered into the B- and C-shows. For those of you who wished to see Hayes 'apologiiiiiize' by kissing Jesse Jackson's shaded keister, I've totally got you covered. I hope this is the last of the Michael Hayes news; this shit gets less and less interesting with each passing week. Let's get a huge racial war going backstage already~!

It looks like Ashley Massaro has finally walked out of WWE. This just in: Christmas truly is in July. Don't let the door disintegrate your ass on the way out, darling. Sure, the circumstances are pretty sad (if her reason is indeed true), but I've been waiting for this news since late 2005, and for it to arrive on the week of my birthday is just pure gold. In my opinion, Ashley leaving the company is no big loss at all; there are plenty of fake-breasted blondes waiting to be called up from FCW, and if WWE was desperate to replace her, they can always raid the local Hot Topic for some pseudo-punk threads (not that I'm dissing Hot Topic; I found an amazing Harley Quinn and Joker t-shirt there, so I have no qualms). So yeah, so long to "Dirty Dirty" the human injury machine, and good riddance. Layla El, who might just be from Krypton, YOU'RE NEXT~! Actually, for that Superman reference alone, enjoy a most appropriate picture of Ashley being sent to the Phantom Zone:

Speaking of releases, James Mitchell has been shitcanned from TNA, thus giving him more free time to hit the karaoke bar. I'd guess that gives Abyss even less to do now. Mitchell's firing is of little loss until you consider that Abyss is nearing "Creative has nothing for you" status. Anyway, Mitchell joins the likes of Scott D'Amore and Rellik Whose Name Is Killer Spelled Backwards in the unemployment line, which must be a terrifying experience for everyone else standing in it. TNA definitely must be cleaning out their roster to make room for their next sports star crossover failure. Seriously, guys, no one gives a fuck if you brought in Pacman Jones to toss a Nerf ball into your wrestlers' cojones. If these guys really needed the cash, they'd fire their entire creative team today.

This week's "what the fuck" moment goes to John Cena, who decided to sing "God Bless America" on July 4th... in Panama. Needless to say, the crowd went dead as he sang. According to reports, it would be several minutes into his match against JBL before he'd get any reaction from the crowd. Obviously, Cena's stirring vocal stylings went over like they were being told they had cancer, and when they finally came to, children obviously cheered as adults booed him. If only he had serenaded them with Van Halen's 'Panama'. If only. In this day and age, I hope to God no one was expecting some sort of overwhelming standing ovation from this crowd, complete with a poignantly chanted "USA! USA! USA!" Dear God, Cena, what the fuck?

According to ProWrestling.net, Mike Adamle recently asked Tazz if ECW runs for 30 minutes or an hour. I am shaking my damn head at this, but I feel so urged to call bullshit. No one can be that damn dumb; he sits down and commentates for an hour, for fuck's sake! Either way, Adamle's supposed lapse of intelligence has been getting him some ridicule backstage, just as usual. Some also say that Adamle is a nice guy who acts strange, and he always seems to wander off before shows without anyone knowing his whereabouts. Well, after some intense stalking research, I have uncovered the following evidence of exactly what Mike Adamle does before every show:

Now you know too much! Run away, and don't look back unless you want to see Mike Adamle emote psychotic fury... which'll probably be fucking hilarious.

While we're all having a good laugh, let's talk about Chyna. Stop laughing; I haven't even gotten to the funny part yet! Anyway, a video that has surfaced on the interwebs features Joanie Laurer talking about returning to pro wrestling. Now we can die laughing. If I'm not mistaken, Joanie has burned her bridges so badly with WWE that they'd fire her before hiring her, if it were possible. If she does return to wrestling, it'll probably be in Ultimate Warrior fashion, right down to my complete apathy. And, hey, maybe then she can even get to writing her next book, "If They Only Cared".

This week's least important news bit goes to the WGN TV station in Chicago, who are thinking of pulling Smackdown from their line-up and replacing it with reruns of, wait for it... Alf. Yes, Alf. I don't even have words for this. Fucking Alf! The joke has written itself! Sweet Jesus be a new UPN contract.

It's the CHYNA EDITION~! Just what the hell am I doing putting the spotlight on Chyna on my birthday column? Who knows? I must be sick in the head or something. Let's start off with Chyna's oft-forgotten relationship with Triple H. I say oft-forgotten because Triple H probably has done everything short of wipe his memory a la 'Eternal Sunshine' to forget he ever went out with her. I don't blame him, especially because he prevented bringing the following into the world:





Holy Miss Piggy~! Sinus problems, much?

Next up is an unholy kayfabe alliance of Chyna and Mark Henry. Back in 2000, Sexual Chocolate here would romance women from Chyna to Mae Young in an effort to make WWE fans projectile vomit so hard that they'd 'accidentally' hit the Power button on their TVs. While I'm lucky enough to not remember a single damn moment of this angle, I wonder: what would their kid have looked like if they mated?





Oh snap, it's Eddie Winslow from Family Matters!

Finally, we have a man known for being a part of a very homoerotic profession, and Joey Fatone, former member of super gay boy band NSYNC. Even at the age of 9 when NSYNC and Backstreet Boys were all I really gave much of a fuck about, Joey was the one guy I still felt like punching right in the fucking face, what with his stupid face shape, his shit eating grin, his dumbass eyes... ahem. I digress. According to some websites, these two had been romantically linked once, which just makes my stomach churn in horror. What little demon would these two have spawned?





Great. The urge to swing my fist into this little dork's mug will never subside now!

It's time once again for Hey Man, Nice Shoot! I'm Catherine, here with Victoria and Natalya~!

Natalya: Haha, yeaaaaah, baaaby!
Victoria: ...

...you know, you sound like Marianne Faithfull in that Metallica song, The Memory Remains. But either way, thanks for taking the time to be here today, ladies!

Victoria: Well, you know, we had nothing better to do today.

Right. So, I'm sure you've brought me something snazzy for my birthday, right?

Natalya: We're here, aren't we?
Victoria: HAHAHAHAHA, good one!
Natalya: Did you like that?
Victoria: I LOVED that~!

...yeah. So how did you two actually come around to being best friends to the point of complete nausea?

Natalya: Well, we got ourselves a couple of matching BFF t-shirts. They're SO cute!
Victoria: Oh my God, aren't they?!
Natalya: They are!

Wow. That's it? Never in my life have I seen a friendship so forced. Speaking of t-shirts, I decided to get you girls a couple of matching shirts, completely hand-made by me~!

Natalya: Oh my God, how sweet of you! Of course, being a third-generation superstar, it's a common occurance to receive gifts.

I'll bet. Here you go, Natalya; you get LAME, and, Victoria, you get GIMMICK. I've glittered them all up and everything! I SO hope you like them.

Victoria: ...are you trying to tell us something here?

Actually, yes. Allow me to cut to the chase. Which one of you is riding the other's coat tails? Victoria, are you trying to get some third-generation stroke to save your dwindling career? Natalya, are you clinging to Victoria to establish yourself as a 'serious' diva? I want details, damn it!

Natalya: I don't know what you're getting at...
Victoria: We really are BFFs!

LIARS. Friendships aren't real in the WWE unless you're John Cena, because that asshole can't ever say anything bad about anyone!

Cena: I can too! I only just said JBL's poopy on Monday!

I rest my case.

Victoria: I don't know about John, but Nattie and I are FOR REAL.

Hm, I remember this one guy who used to be FOR REAL, and he ended up unable to return his Bowflex for a full refund, if you catch my drift.

Natalya: Not at all.

...whatever, then. It'll only be a matter of time before the two of you reveal yourselves to be a couple of bitches with personal agendas, AND THEN I'LL SO WIN. I don't know what I'll win, but I'LL WIN. Oh, hey, here's our Hey Man, Nice Shoot co-executive producer, Katy~! Katy, this is the second time you interrupt my show in two weeks. Clearly, you must have something important to say.

Katy: Well, seeing as this is your little birthday noncelebration you've got going here, I'd like to tell you that I've also got a birthday coming up on the 14th.

Well, hey, that's fantastic!

Katy: Isn't it, though? Well, yeah, so, as your co-executive producer, I feel like it's mandatory for me to request a present or two.

Of course. Go right ahead.

Natalya: Let me guess: you want a night out with me, Natalya, third-generation superstar?
Victoria: Ahem...
Natalya: Oh. And Victoria?
Katy: Uh... no. First, I want Michelle McCool booked for an interview next week.

We'll get right on that. Well.... bye~!

Katy: Hold on, I'm not quite finished. I also would like a raise.

Damn it, I knew that was coming up...look, I'm still trying to raise the cash we spent on booking that big orange bastard, Hulk Hogan.

Victoria: Oh, wow, that must've sucked your bank account dry.
Natalya: Kind of like all the divas! HAHAHAHAHA!

...you don't know the half of it.

Katy: Come on, I'm long overdue for a raise!

HEY, YOU DON'T SEE VAL VENIS EVER ASKING FOR ANYTHING EXTRA FROM VINCE. You know why? 'Cause Vince'll remember he exists and fire his ass! Which is completely besides any point I'm trying to make here. Look... just... um... HEY, it's Charlie Haas!

[Charlie swiftly runs like that creepy T-1000 in Terminator 2 and missile dropkicks Katy out a window.]



Phew. That'll buy me another day or two from hearing another raise complaint. Ladies, I believe I'll be ending my interview here, because, well, I know you girls can't top a missile dropkick out a window.

Victoria: Is that so?

[Victoria grabs Natalya and Widow's Peaks her ass out another window.]

H oly shit, cool. I love my show. WELL, join me next week, Shoot fans, for a one-on-one chat with Michelle "Homewrecker" McCool, where I'll totally not ambush her with Undertaker questions and instead talk about her pursuit for an ugly purple championship belt~!

And that's a wrap on another obscenely late Deadface Walking~! Make sure to check out all of this week's fantastic TWF goodness on the main page, and I will see your asses next week! I'm Catherine Perez, and like Orlando Jordan's cock when a camera's around, I'm out!

Catherine Perez is a proud owner of three e-mails from WWE's legal department, which she regularly prints out for when all the toilet paper runs out.  She was the first person to call the Ghostbusters after witnessing something strange in her neighborhood, and is thus immortalized in a song that was made popular four years before her birth.  Catherine enjoys collecting vintage WWF t-shirts, painting on her clothing, and the smell of crushed dreams in the mornings. She also shot J.R.

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November 2006


by Sean Carless

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.).