Post by Jason Blair on Mar 31, 2010 22:55:10 GMT -6
It's mind boggling to me, how far technology has come. I mean, what did we do before we had smart phones? Magazines? ..Never again.
The voice is Jason Blair's, but is obviously a voice over. The image is of Jason sitting in a high class hair salon waiting room. He's dressed in designer jeans and a tight-fitting “Affliction” t-shirt. His wrestler's physique sets him apart from the patrons around him, but otherwise he looks like he would fit in well. His legs are crossed slightly, and his head is buried in the iPhone he's holding.
I mean, with this thing I can check my e-mail, the news.. I'm basically completely connected no matter where I am. For instance, right now I'm checking up on recent nCw headlines, checking out Adam Knite's newest promo..Venom's whining.. Angel's terrifying interview.... all while waiting to have my hair trimmed and styled. It really is an amazing world we live in.
There is one thing about it that could pose a problem, depending on who you are. If you're the kind of person that's trying to hide and avoid the problems and confrontations in life, being connected may not be all that appealing. Take my opponents, for example. I have a feeling they've both been avoiding New Championship Wrestling like it's the damn plague. One can only assume, with all these new advancing technologies and access, that their consciously avoiding me.
A pretty mid-20's woman approaches Blair.
“All set, Mr. Blair. The usual?”
“The usual. I won't be on TV this week, my dear. But it's still important to keep up my public image.”
Blair answers the woman without looking up from his phone. He shakes his head and stands up, sliding the phone back into his jeans pocket before following the woman to a chair. She picks a comb and gets to work quickly and silently, it's obvious she knows the drill. Jason stares into his own eyes in the mirror as she combs his blonde hair out. The voice-over resumes.
Why would “The Man” Johnathan Bishop avoid me? Why wouldn't he come out, barking and saluting and singing the National damn Anthem pre-match? My guess is that he understands very well that I am above cheap intimidation tactics like that. Unfortunately, men that are as dumb as rocks, like John, don't really have a plan B. He can't come out here and try to match wits with me. I can only assume that he's in the nCw because The Marines wouldn't take him after he failed the standard “Are you smart enough to be a bullet-sponge” test. So that, of course, leaves plan C. Hide in the shadows and remain anonymous.. hoping that when match time rolls around he'll magically spawn a pair of balls and stand up to me in the ring. He won't.
The woman produces a pair of scissors and begins to meticulously trim the edges of Jason Blair's hair.
“Maybe take an extra inch off this week. I think my hair takes some of the attention away from my chiseled jawline, don't you?”
“Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. I can definitely do that.. and.. anything.. else you want me to take care of..[/color]”
Blair continues to stare at himself in the mirror as if the woman hadn't blatantly hit on him. The familiar voice-over picks back up.
The other one. Conejo. Part of the “evil” empire known as the Dominicus Republic. I feel like I need to keep my eye on this one. Of course, he can't compete with me one on one. He's a joke, and if he makes the mistake of approaching me face to face I will seriously injure the damn fool. However, that bastard Mike Machado proved that even someone of mediocre talent can scrape out a victory when there are enough distractions around. Bishop might be distraction enough, but I wouldn't put it past Conejo to bring his “evil” entourage out with him.
I guess it makes no difference. Whatever situation I'm in, whatever curve ball I'm thrown.. I've got goals in this federation. I'll treat every opportunity as if it were the damn coliseum match. I will be recognized for my talent, even if I have to kill to do it. I am better than that mediocre crap I've been dealing with the past few months. I won't be associated with it anymore. You'll see. You will all see.
“Thats good enough.”
Blair pulls out a $50 and hands it to the hairdresser.
“Will that be all, Mr. Blair?”
Jason stands up out of the chair and brushes his massive shoulders off. He gives himself another quick look in the mirror before turning on a dime and walking out of the salon.
Fade.
The voice is Jason Blair's, but is obviously a voice over. The image is of Jason sitting in a high class hair salon waiting room. He's dressed in designer jeans and a tight-fitting “Affliction” t-shirt. His wrestler's physique sets him apart from the patrons around him, but otherwise he looks like he would fit in well. His legs are crossed slightly, and his head is buried in the iPhone he's holding.
I mean, with this thing I can check my e-mail, the news.. I'm basically completely connected no matter where I am. For instance, right now I'm checking up on recent nCw headlines, checking out Adam Knite's newest promo..Venom's whining.. Angel's terrifying interview.... all while waiting to have my hair trimmed and styled. It really is an amazing world we live in.
There is one thing about it that could pose a problem, depending on who you are. If you're the kind of person that's trying to hide and avoid the problems and confrontations in life, being connected may not be all that appealing. Take my opponents, for example. I have a feeling they've both been avoiding New Championship Wrestling like it's the damn plague. One can only assume, with all these new advancing technologies and access, that their consciously avoiding me.
A pretty mid-20's woman approaches Blair.
“All set, Mr. Blair. The usual?”
“The usual. I won't be on TV this week, my dear. But it's still important to keep up my public image.”
Blair answers the woman without looking up from his phone. He shakes his head and stands up, sliding the phone back into his jeans pocket before following the woman to a chair. She picks a comb and gets to work quickly and silently, it's obvious she knows the drill. Jason stares into his own eyes in the mirror as she combs his blonde hair out. The voice-over resumes.
Why would “The Man” Johnathan Bishop avoid me? Why wouldn't he come out, barking and saluting and singing the National damn Anthem pre-match? My guess is that he understands very well that I am above cheap intimidation tactics like that. Unfortunately, men that are as dumb as rocks, like John, don't really have a plan B. He can't come out here and try to match wits with me. I can only assume that he's in the nCw because The Marines wouldn't take him after he failed the standard “Are you smart enough to be a bullet-sponge” test. So that, of course, leaves plan C. Hide in the shadows and remain anonymous.. hoping that when match time rolls around he'll magically spawn a pair of balls and stand up to me in the ring. He won't.
The woman produces a pair of scissors and begins to meticulously trim the edges of Jason Blair's hair.
“Maybe take an extra inch off this week. I think my hair takes some of the attention away from my chiseled jawline, don't you?”
“Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. I can definitely do that.. and.. anything.. else you want me to take care of..[/color]”
Blair continues to stare at himself in the mirror as if the woman hadn't blatantly hit on him. The familiar voice-over picks back up.
The other one. Conejo. Part of the “evil” empire known as the Dominicus Republic. I feel like I need to keep my eye on this one. Of course, he can't compete with me one on one. He's a joke, and if he makes the mistake of approaching me face to face I will seriously injure the damn fool. However, that bastard Mike Machado proved that even someone of mediocre talent can scrape out a victory when there are enough distractions around. Bishop might be distraction enough, but I wouldn't put it past Conejo to bring his “evil” entourage out with him.
I guess it makes no difference. Whatever situation I'm in, whatever curve ball I'm thrown.. I've got goals in this federation. I'll treat every opportunity as if it were the damn coliseum match. I will be recognized for my talent, even if I have to kill to do it. I am better than that mediocre crap I've been dealing with the past few months. I won't be associated with it anymore. You'll see. You will all see.
“Thats good enough.”
Blair pulls out a $50 and hands it to the hairdresser.
“Will that be all, Mr. Blair?”
Jason stands up out of the chair and brushes his massive shoulders off. He gives himself another quick look in the mirror before turning on a dime and walking out of the salon.
Fade.