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Triplemania XIX Review

Posted in In My Head by Jack at 23:09, Aug 09 2011

Triplemania XIX 2011 Review.... or How I Sharted Myself

by Taso the Greek



I told my girlfriend I had to take a crap. It's as simple as 1, 2, well... number 2. But she demanded I keep my promise of going to Starbucks for coffee and for me to work on my CBT book (Cognitive Behaviour Therapy). You see, I have behaviour problems. Such as writing an article about taking a deuce and comparing that to a bad professional wrestling event, namely, AAA's Triplemania XIX 2011. Refered to as "shitting the bed" by the legendary Stone Cold Steve Austin, bad wrestling matches go mano-a-mano with the most disgusting of human bodily functions. But adding to the dump-fest that is Triplemania was the inclusion of half the Impact Wrestling roster. You'd think adding worldwide foreign superstars to one of Mexico's biggest wrestling event would improve the show, but AAA decided to enlist TNA wrestlers instead. I witnessed these flatulence-enducing matches recently and want to share my thoughts as well as my story of how I crapped my pants, all in one sitting (I am not at this moment, taking a shit.)

Mickie James, Angelina Love, Velvet Sky, & Sexy Star vs. Fabi Apache, Mari Apache, Cynthia Moreno, & Lolita: This eight person tag match started similiarly to my shit-story, with a dark ominous rumbling in the pit of my stomach. This looked crappy right from the get go. We had such workrate horses like Velvet Sky, Angelina Love, and Lolita involved in this match. The forecast was botchy with a chance of shitting the bed. Good wrestlers like the Apaches, Mickie James, and the others involved would have helped this match, but this is lucha libre, the shittiest form of pro wrestling on the planet. Luchadores avoid selling as much as I wanted to avoid farting in my cargo shorts on this dark day. After the long ring entrances the ladies went to battle with much more fervor then when I hit the john to release the pressure valve on my o-ring. The results were much the same. The TNA ladies realized very quickly that they didn't know how to wrestle, or the fact that they had never performed in front of more then 300 fans in an Orlando amusement park. Wrestling in front of 40,000 fans for the first time must be as uncomfortable as walking into the john, ripping some intense farts, and suddenly feeling something wet between your ass cheeks. The Mexican fans are much more forgiving than my girlfriend, it seems, as I was in a hurry to get the hell out of there, while these women were in no hurry to create more sinkers then floaters since the last time I had a Nachos Supreme at Taco Bell. I can't put into words how terrible this was.... yes I can. Back to my own story, I had made a grisley discovery. (-*)

After the opening match, Joaquin Roldán inducted Octagón into the AAA Hall of Fame. [1]

Electroshock, Heavy Metal & Joe Líder vs. La Maniarquía: Chessman, Último Gladiador & Silver Cain (Tables, Ladders and Chairs): La Maniarquía was accompanied to the ring by their mascot Maniaquito and their La Sociedad stablemate, AAA World Mixed Tag Team Champion Jennifer Blake, while Heavy Metal was accompanied by his valet Nanyzh Rock, midget companion Lokillo and musician Charly Montana. [2]

Getting back to my story, which is much more entertaining than this match that should have been dubbed Shitfest 9000, I proceeded to drop my shorts & boxers and whip out my schlong, like half the TNA roster does when Velvet Sky walks into the lockeroom. But my purpose here was to take a piss. I assume the TNA roster plan to do the same, but I used a toilet bowl, not Velvet Sky's face. While draining the lizard, I grabbed some t.p. and wiped my bunghole. Speaking of bungholes, Nicho el Millonario, aka Psychosis, another guy who failed to catch on in the WWE alongside Sin Cara, came out seeking revenge on La Maniarquía. Whatever, my tale of crapping the briefs is much better than this match. I wiped my butthole, like one would wipe a runny nose. The t.p. divulged a brownish revelation. Back to the action, Heavy Metal returned to the match and threw Último Gladiador from the top rope through a cello (yes, a giant violin) , DDT'ed him through a table, and did all kinds of garbage wrestling best left to guys from CZW and yardtards from Delaware. How does DDT'ing a guy who is wearing a metal gladiator helmet make any sense? Electroshock superbombed Chessman through a table. Heavy Metal followed up by performing a diving elbow drop on Gladiador, and somebody won the match with a highly contrived finish. (**)

Cibernético, Billy el Malo, Charly Manson and Escoria of Los Bizarros vs. La Parka, Dark Ozz and Drago of El Inframundo, & Octagón: Octagon looked like a guy wearing a Santa Claud suit except he didn't need the extra stuffing to look jolly & fat. Everyone else looked like rejects from some garage band that plays smelly bars in downtown Manhattan. Except Drago, he looked like a dragon. Totally cool entrance by that guy. What wasn't a cool entrance, and in fact a stinky one, was the wet poop that had invaded the inner sanctum of my ass crack. Obviously I had farted out a wet one, the fact lay gruesomly between my mudd butt. I grabbed more toilet paper and dabbed at my cranny again. This time there was no doubt, I had been the victim of a shart attack.

Meanwhile, La Parka's ten year old son was dragged out from the back by Taboo [3], who revealed on the microphone that Taboo was his uncle and thus La Parka's brother, the luchador formerly known as Lasser Boy. Cibernético hit Parka with a chokeslam and won the match. Then they beat on La Parka while his little kid tried to protect his dad, to no avail. I found this distasteful. Back to my shit-u-mentary, a third wipe of my coin slot revealed that the shit-storm had ended, as there was now more white then brown. I was happier then a gold miner who had just panned out some nuggets from a creek, when the soiled t.p. fell from my grasp, floating to the ground like a brown snowflake, hitting the tile floor the wrong side down! It landed like Candice Michelle taking a bump; all wrong and leaving a hot mess. (*3/4)

Extreme Tiger & Jack Evans (c) vs. TNA X Division Champion Abyss and TNA World Heavyweight Champion Mr. Anderson for the AAA World Tag Team Championship in a steel cage: Seriously, the size differential in this match was so huge it made me laugh. Evans and Extreme Tiger climbed the cage and did some cool dives onto Abyss, but overall this match was horrid. Mr. Anderson barely did anything the whole match. Abyss brought his bag of thumbtacks but got powerbombed into them by Jack Evans off the top rope. Good.

What isn't good is there was a piece of dirty ass parchment on my floor. I don't keep my bathroom like a Mexican toilet, where they have used toilet paper piled in a corner like a mountain of dirty snow. Like Samoa Joe did to his career when he signed with TNA, I threw that dirty son-of-a-bitch into the crapper with quite the rage and pulled my pants up, but something was quite amiss, much like this tag match. How two 150 lb. guys can beat a combined 500 lb. tag team in a steel cage is beyond me, but Jack Evans & Extreme Tiger succesfully defended the AAA Tag Team Titles in this match by both escaping. Not Mexico, but the cage. (*3/4)

Los Psycho Circus vs. Los Perros del Mal (tournament final to determine the first ever AAA World Trios Champions): Los Perros del Mal were Damián 666, Halloween and X-Fly. I don't know the clown names but wore horrid masks and they scared the shit out of me, literally. For those semi-fans of lucha libre, "El Hijo del Perro Aguayo was forced to pull out of the event as a result of his body's adverse reaction to the medication given to him as part of his recent tumor treatment."[4] This match was a hardcore match, as was almost every match on this show so far. It was heinous and horrid. Triplemania had attacked my senses much like Montezuma's revenge had me sharting my shorts.



Meanwhile, in the crap-closet, I had pulled my pants up only to discover that there was a mild feeling of wetness between my legs. My innermost fears were awakened, sadly, way before I decided to watch Triplemania. I pulled down my pants once more and looked down at my white boxers to find that I had deposited a freshly minted copper piece right in the back porch of my Fruit of the Looms. I was irate! I felt disgusted, the same way I felt watching this stupid match with these stupid clowns. Halloween Death Valley Bombed one of the Psycho Clowns thru a table off the top rope for the pin. Los Perros del Mal win the AAA World Trios Championships, but my poo-predicament seemed a lot worse then the concussion that ugly clown felt, I am quite sure. I certainly could not give a shit that Los Perros had won the titles, but my dirty underwear was evidence to the contrary I suppose. (*)

Jeff Jarrett w/ Karen Angle vs. El Zorro ( AAA World Heavyweight Championship ): Does anyone know Jarrett is a La Sociedad member? They never mention this on TNA. If my promotion was having deals going down in Mexico with another wrestling federation, I'd make note of it. Shit, they show Hactor Guerrero and some other Mexican guy every week on Impact, but they don't mention anything else about AAA. What a bunch of assholes. Speaking of Jeff Jarrett, he actually put on a decent match with El Zorro; old school style, old school heat, lots of distractions by Karen from the outside. There was heavy use of chairs, belt shots to the head, Jarrett's signature guitar, and even a singapore cane. In a pro wrestling match, much like taking a proper deuce, there is a certain psychology to it, or I guess biology, depending on the situation. In a pro wrestling match you have to build suspense toward an exciting finish, or else you take a chance on shitting the bed. Taking a succesful dump requires its' own method of build-up and fermentation before the grand opening, or else you end up dropping a couple of acorns instead of the entire log. I berated my girlfriend as I ran out of the bathroom, explaining to her that dropping off the kids at the pool takes time and patience, much like a wrestler working a body part. If she had just given me time to work my anus properly I wouldn't be running around with an oozie booty.

And what was Karen Angle's booty doing in Mexico anyhow? I guess Jeff brought his kids and Kurt's kids on a vacation. Besides, Karen is good for nothing but looking like a MILF at ringside, which she did effectively. It was her interference in the match that led to Jarrett grabbing a singapore cane and hitting the Stroke on El Zorro for the big win. Jarrett is the new AAA World Heavyweight Champion and the first ever American to hold the title.[5] I have yet to find anyone who cares.

L.A. Park vs El Mesias (mask vs hair): A super-duper bloodbath here, as both men used all manner of plunder to bust each other open. The matches definitely got better as the event progressed, but this was all still really terrible. L.A. Park's mask was torn to bits, an old lady threw a cup of water in his face, and he was rocked by chair shots. The arena was going insane. People threw trash into the ring, cups, bottles, diapers. The Sports Palace in Mexico City was going crazy. I was surprised, but I guess I shouldn't be when you live in a third-world country, shitty wrestling is better then getting beat up by the Federales on a Friday night. El Mesias got as good as he gave during the match. He went flying through more then a few tables in this bout.

Meanwhile my bout with the shits sent me scurrying up the stairs, Parkour-style, to get a brand new pair of undies. The filthy lucre in my underoos wasn't enough to buy a cup of coffee at Starbucks but it was probably more money then Tracy Brooke's TNA contract was worth. I explained to my better half that taking a deuce was an art-form, same as pro wrestling. Very much like this Mexican fake-fighting, pooping has its own set of rules. It's is quite dangerous playing with any element if you don't know its basic form, solid, liquid, or gas (I had all three). As I was doing the doo-doo dance, L.A. Park was doing his own dancing. He set up a table in the ring and climbed up on it. He started doing the L.A. Park strut. Mesias climbed the top rope and speared him in a splintering heap. Maybe my favorite moment of the whole show. Mesias then slapped a scorpion death lock on L.A. Park, but the masked luchadore faked mesias into thinking he had submitted by tapping him on the back. Mesias celebrated, not knowing that L.A. Park had not submitted. This gave Park the chance to slip on some brass knuckles, and he knocked out Mesias for the win. A bunch of unknown guys came to the ring and shaved Mesias' head as Park celebrated. More garbage came flying toward ringside, which took me back to the good old days of WCW. (**1/4)

Dr. Wagner, Jr. vs. Rob Van Dam (AAA Latin American Champion) : This match felt like a main event level fight, probably because of all the luchadores, I can take Dr. Wagner seriously. Every other luchadore has the same exact body-type... fat. Van Dam used a ton of his offense, incorporating a steel chair and using it to kick Wagner in the face. Both men did a lot of posing during the opening of this match. I should have done my own pose over the porcelain throne. I was surprised the Mexican fans knew how to chant along with RVD when he did his patented taunt.

Spealking of taunts, and to wrap up my own version of a shitty event, I had to drive home the point to my woman that if you are going to take the Browns to the Super Bowl, you better have a game plan, or a lot of things can go wrong. In my rush to get out of my soiled sorties, I skipped an important step in toilet etiquette. I walked up to Muffin, her cat, and I put my fingers in her face. Muffin took a long sniff. She then began panting with her mouth open, like a blown-up wrestler ten minutes into a sixty minute Iron Man Match. If you have ever seen two cats smell each others butts, you would understand that I had infiltrated Muffin's tase buds with my poop molecules. From this day forward, my girlfriend has never, and will never, try to hurry me when I am doing my business.

Back to the business in the ring, Dr. Wagner and RVD traded offense, some bad, some good. Wagner went for his finishing maneuver, the Wagner Driver, but RVD kicked out. Wagner followed up with a rope hung DDT onto a steel chair, ala Randy Orton, and he got the pin and became the first ever AAA Latin American Champion. The show ended with AAA's technicos celebrating Wagner's victory and the fact this Wrestlecrap-tastic show was finally over. (**)

In conclusion: I think I have made it clear to everyone out there about two things. I will never be rushed out of the bathroom, I will never take a chance on sharting myself, and I will probably never watch another Triplemania again.

[1] Thanks to Wikipedia for some of the backstory on Triplemania and the feuds. Plus, this thing was so God damn long I had to fast forward through a ton of bullshit only the fags who read Segunda Caida blog.
[2] Wikipedia
[3] Wiki
[4] Take a wild guess
[5] The Farmer's Almanac

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