Post by Alysson Gardner on Sept 1, 2012 3:18:51 GMT -6
Alysson: I don't need anger management!
I scream at Emma as the odd duo of my friend in Danielson and Andrew Jacobsen talk to me. We are at this very nicely put together bar, and I'm sipping my soda while they get their beers.
Emma: Of course you don't, sweetie.
Andrew: Yes she does! She f***ing scares me!
Andrew mutters it under his breath, and Emma makes no effort to hide it as she crosses her arms at the fellow Minnesotan.
Emma: Oh, shut up, Andrew. 285 pound World Champion? No sweat. Alysson Gardner? Now you're scared.
I just shake my head at Andy's playfulness. He's always been like this... I think. But I'm still not buying this anger management session idea.
Alysson: C'mon! I'm a perfectly sane woman with all my nuts and bolts in place, thank you. I just... get pissed when people do stupid things, I can't help it.
Emma now looks at me with a somewhat worried look.
Emma: Aly, we still owe our last hotel because you put a potted plant through it after seeing a commercial for Snooki and JWoww.
Alysson: It was just a f***ing POT, damnit. And I already made up the difference.
Emma: And threatening to castrate the waiter at Friday's for making bad jokes?
I almost spill my soda through my nose as I sip. I scoff and continue myself after cleaning the small mess I made.
Alysson: Bad jokes? He was looking at my boobs! I just needed an excuse. And if he stood there for any longer, I'd rip his balls off.
Andrew: ...to be fair, you do have nice boobs...
Emma: NOT HELPING, ANDREW!
I shoot Andy a death glare now, as that was uncalled for.
Andrew: Hiding now.
He gets up from his seat and bails, leaving me and Emma alone for some time. The blonde takes a sip from her beer and slams it on the counter before looking at me with some worry and sighing deeply before speaking.
Emma: Aly, what I'm saying is...well...maybe you react a bit too...extremely.
Alysson: ... and?
I shrug.
Alysson: Better react and let myself be CLEARLY understood than becoming Amy Marshall 2.0.
Andrew: Daaamn. That's harsh.
We overhear that as he comes back with a new portion of wings. I grab one and bite it and swallow it before I keep speaking.
Alysson: I'm serious! It works, doesn't it? Well, it... gets me in trouble now and then, but it works!
Emma: The trouble is, when it gets you in trouble it really gets you in trouble.
Alysson: I knooooow. But I don't need anger management sessions to take care of these, ok? I'm perfectly fine.
I take another sip from my soda as I kind of change subjects.
Alysson: Look, I've been talking to psychiatrists for the past months and I'm in prime shape."
Andrew: ... Didn't you break the last one's arm?
Alysson: No, that was the physiotherapist. You know the story.
Emma: Aaahhh. Right, you said he grabbed your ass.
I just nod as I take another sip.
Andrew: Just saying, a few less hospital bills would be real nice.
Emma nods at Andrew as he finally said something useful... for her point. They aren't going to give up on this so I just gotta admit defeat here.
Alysson: Ok, ok, I get it. Less explosion, more reason.
Emma nods happily.
Emma: Yeah, there we go.
Andrew: Things work out so much better when you're calmer.
I take another sip, happy that that'll shut them up. But then I overhear something from another table...
Customer #1: 'Ey, ain't that the redhead wrestler with the nice boobs?
Customer #2: Dude! Did you see the pay-per-view? Them boobs--
Alysson: Ooooh, you're ASKING for it!
And I get up in anger, ready to cause some more trouble. Emma and Andy immediately change glances.
Andrew: Quick exit to the left?
Emma: You got it.
And they flee before I cause enough trouble to get kicked out.
Times change indeed, Mercedes, I couldn't have said it better.
Yes, Ayla, Emma and I have banded together to form a third coming of the Bitches With Attitude. Turns out they were right all that time along, and how silly of me was it not to have seen it before. I guess I was too self-absorbed in my mission of being above the war that I didn't realize that the world around me was crumbling down. But we didn't have Steve Awesome running a division like he organizes his softcore flicks either.
But, just like I love the way you resort to putting words in my mouth, it was no "Plan B". It was convenience. Ayla and Emma not only are my best friends but also women that are fighting the same thing I've been fighting since day one: all that's stupid. And since you're stupid yourself, just as self-absorbed as I was in trying to be polemic and funny and exquisite all at the same time, you couldn't realize that this is not just a group of riot girls running stunts in the ring. We're women on a war against everything stupid. We're here to fight things like Crystal Hilton pulling a Kane - can't we just call it "pull a Williams"? - and trying to be the center of attentions inside the ring by shaking her ass and trying to make a broken woman to do the same. We're here to fight things like the two equally self-centered Megan Sanderson and Nina Watts coming up with a f***ing Bikini Contest, just when all of us should be working our asses off for a less sexist working environment.
But I'm the same woman, Mercedes. The same Alysson that aimed to be the best among the best. The same Alysson that claimed to be a role model for the women in this roster or the ones that'll come in the future, because I'm the perfect product; I'm what sells and what makes people talk... Even in defeat.
Oh, and just for the record, let me remind you of something Kelly said herself in her interview with my husband Spike Kane, in one of these SpikeTV editions: Kelly thinks I'm right. Yeah, go ahead, let it sink in too. If she wasn't the boss and didn't see the burning circus NCW has become a profitable situation, she would be fighting with me. Again, it's not ALL about being the most skilled bad ass in the ring. It's about hoisting the flags of a rotten division YOU are a part of.
One of these days, you'll be thankful to me. Maybe just not tonight; you're still too self-centered to realize that worse comes to worse. There's no point in making a big deal out of it, if it can just be a fight between a former-and-soon-again champion and a probable future champion, since you seem to be getting better with your ring skills. There's no use for me to victimize you in a beat down to prove any kind of point. After all, you've said it yourself - you're only Mercedes Vargas. What do you know?
Obviously, vocabulary is something you don't know, so let me clarify a couple of things here. Being superior doesn't mean being most skilled or more talented. See, I've been in this business for long enough to humble myself into recognizing talent and giving it a nod when I see it. You're talented, Mercy; you wouldn't have defeated me once before if you weren't. But what else? Where's the controversy? Where's that little thing, that action, that speech that'll leave people talking and want you to be the thing, the one they want to see? And furthermore - where's the will to be the one your opponents will have the most pleasure in defeating?
And this is what makes me superior to you, Mercedes, and even if you beat me three, four, ten times in a row, that won't change. You and everybody else have this morbid pleasure in defeating me, and maybe this is where you thrive; if I defeat you this Saturday, I'll rejoice with things getting back to their status quo.
You tell me I'm losing my touch; I call you a Saturday Night Live reject. Does that offend you? Well, you don't offend me either; in fact, that'll make the both of us sound like broken records. You can go ahead and keep up with your speeches about being in denial, how things have changed, I don't give a f*** - I am still superior. Who did the people want to see battling Jennifer Williams in the interactive pay-per-view again? "Oh, let's give Vargas a chance, eh, she's been around for long enough, maybe she could use the shot..."
No. It was me. With zero campaign, and after all that's happened before, they wanted ME.
Then I lost to Jennifer Williams - so what? I was there. I'm thankful to the people that gave me a chance. I just couldn't fight in a Bra and Panties Match that she was so eager to be a part of, she undressed herself. But that's beside the point - I still managed to leave people talking. Oh, yeah, you claim I didn't; maybe you should get your ears checked... That, or your Internet provider. I left people talking not because of a win or a loss, but because of what happened later: renovation. The Bitches With Attitude may be an old name, but we are a new group.
And this, Mercy cakes, is what makes me superior. I know how to piss you off. I know how to sting you the hardest. And even in defeat, I know how to make you keep wanting me, because it doesn't f***ing matter how many times you or anyone else defeats me, I'll always be one... level... higher. Because I keep renewing myself. You... You're still Charlie Sheen's lost parrot ever since your little run as tag team champion with Conway. Yay for excitement.
So think better, Mercedes, before you speak up. If you have an enormous pleasure in beating me every time we meet, if people expect me to defeat you and everyone else, and it's a big accomplishment for you to pin me down for the un-deux-trois, who is the best one between us?
That's how I rock, baby cakes. Deal with it.
I scream at Emma as the odd duo of my friend in Danielson and Andrew Jacobsen talk to me. We are at this very nicely put together bar, and I'm sipping my soda while they get their beers.
Emma: Of course you don't, sweetie.
Andrew: Yes she does! She f***ing scares me!
Andrew mutters it under his breath, and Emma makes no effort to hide it as she crosses her arms at the fellow Minnesotan.
Emma: Oh, shut up, Andrew. 285 pound World Champion? No sweat. Alysson Gardner? Now you're scared.
I just shake my head at Andy's playfulness. He's always been like this... I think. But I'm still not buying this anger management session idea.
Alysson: C'mon! I'm a perfectly sane woman with all my nuts and bolts in place, thank you. I just... get pissed when people do stupid things, I can't help it.
Emma now looks at me with a somewhat worried look.
Emma: Aly, we still owe our last hotel because you put a potted plant through it after seeing a commercial for Snooki and JWoww.
Alysson: It was just a f***ing POT, damnit. And I already made up the difference.
Emma: And threatening to castrate the waiter at Friday's for making bad jokes?
I almost spill my soda through my nose as I sip. I scoff and continue myself after cleaning the small mess I made.
Alysson: Bad jokes? He was looking at my boobs! I just needed an excuse. And if he stood there for any longer, I'd rip his balls off.
Andrew: ...to be fair, you do have nice boobs...
Emma: NOT HELPING, ANDREW!
I shoot Andy a death glare now, as that was uncalled for.
Andrew: Hiding now.
He gets up from his seat and bails, leaving me and Emma alone for some time. The blonde takes a sip from her beer and slams it on the counter before looking at me with some worry and sighing deeply before speaking.
Emma: Aly, what I'm saying is...well...maybe you react a bit too...extremely.
Alysson: ... and?
I shrug.
Alysson: Better react and let myself be CLEARLY understood than becoming Amy Marshall 2.0.
Andrew: Daaamn. That's harsh.
We overhear that as he comes back with a new portion of wings. I grab one and bite it and swallow it before I keep speaking.
Alysson: I'm serious! It works, doesn't it? Well, it... gets me in trouble now and then, but it works!
Emma: The trouble is, when it gets you in trouble it really gets you in trouble.
Alysson: I knooooow. But I don't need anger management sessions to take care of these, ok? I'm perfectly fine.
I take another sip from my soda as I kind of change subjects.
Alysson: Look, I've been talking to psychiatrists for the past months and I'm in prime shape."
Andrew: ... Didn't you break the last one's arm?
Alysson: No, that was the physiotherapist. You know the story.
Emma: Aaahhh. Right, you said he grabbed your ass.
I just nod as I take another sip.
Andrew: Just saying, a few less hospital bills would be real nice.
Emma nods at Andrew as he finally said something useful... for her point. They aren't going to give up on this so I just gotta admit defeat here.
Alysson: Ok, ok, I get it. Less explosion, more reason.
Emma nods happily.
Emma: Yeah, there we go.
Andrew: Things work out so much better when you're calmer.
I take another sip, happy that that'll shut them up. But then I overhear something from another table...
Customer #1: 'Ey, ain't that the redhead wrestler with the nice boobs?
Customer #2: Dude! Did you see the pay-per-view? Them boobs--
Alysson: Ooooh, you're ASKING for it!
And I get up in anger, ready to cause some more trouble. Emma and Andy immediately change glances.
Andrew: Quick exit to the left?
Emma: You got it.
And they flee before I cause enough trouble to get kicked out.
Times change indeed, Mercedes, I couldn't have said it better.
Yes, Ayla, Emma and I have banded together to form a third coming of the Bitches With Attitude. Turns out they were right all that time along, and how silly of me was it not to have seen it before. I guess I was too self-absorbed in my mission of being above the war that I didn't realize that the world around me was crumbling down. But we didn't have Steve Awesome running a division like he organizes his softcore flicks either.
But, just like I love the way you resort to putting words in my mouth, it was no "Plan B". It was convenience. Ayla and Emma not only are my best friends but also women that are fighting the same thing I've been fighting since day one: all that's stupid. And since you're stupid yourself, just as self-absorbed as I was in trying to be polemic and funny and exquisite all at the same time, you couldn't realize that this is not just a group of riot girls running stunts in the ring. We're women on a war against everything stupid. We're here to fight things like Crystal Hilton pulling a Kane - can't we just call it "pull a Williams"? - and trying to be the center of attentions inside the ring by shaking her ass and trying to make a broken woman to do the same. We're here to fight things like the two equally self-centered Megan Sanderson and Nina Watts coming up with a f***ing Bikini Contest, just when all of us should be working our asses off for a less sexist working environment.
But I'm the same woman, Mercedes. The same Alysson that aimed to be the best among the best. The same Alysson that claimed to be a role model for the women in this roster or the ones that'll come in the future, because I'm the perfect product; I'm what sells and what makes people talk... Even in defeat.
Oh, and just for the record, let me remind you of something Kelly said herself in her interview with my husband Spike Kane, in one of these SpikeTV editions: Kelly thinks I'm right. Yeah, go ahead, let it sink in too. If she wasn't the boss and didn't see the burning circus NCW has become a profitable situation, she would be fighting with me. Again, it's not ALL about being the most skilled bad ass in the ring. It's about hoisting the flags of a rotten division YOU are a part of.
One of these days, you'll be thankful to me. Maybe just not tonight; you're still too self-centered to realize that worse comes to worse. There's no point in making a big deal out of it, if it can just be a fight between a former-and-soon-again champion and a probable future champion, since you seem to be getting better with your ring skills. There's no use for me to victimize you in a beat down to prove any kind of point. After all, you've said it yourself - you're only Mercedes Vargas. What do you know?
Obviously, vocabulary is something you don't know, so let me clarify a couple of things here. Being superior doesn't mean being most skilled or more talented. See, I've been in this business for long enough to humble myself into recognizing talent and giving it a nod when I see it. You're talented, Mercy; you wouldn't have defeated me once before if you weren't. But what else? Where's the controversy? Where's that little thing, that action, that speech that'll leave people talking and want you to be the thing, the one they want to see? And furthermore - where's the will to be the one your opponents will have the most pleasure in defeating?
And this is what makes me superior to you, Mercedes, and even if you beat me three, four, ten times in a row, that won't change. You and everybody else have this morbid pleasure in defeating me, and maybe this is where you thrive; if I defeat you this Saturday, I'll rejoice with things getting back to their status quo.
You tell me I'm losing my touch; I call you a Saturday Night Live reject. Does that offend you? Well, you don't offend me either; in fact, that'll make the both of us sound like broken records. You can go ahead and keep up with your speeches about being in denial, how things have changed, I don't give a f*** - I am still superior. Who did the people want to see battling Jennifer Williams in the interactive pay-per-view again? "Oh, let's give Vargas a chance, eh, she's been around for long enough, maybe she could use the shot..."
No. It was me. With zero campaign, and after all that's happened before, they wanted ME.
Then I lost to Jennifer Williams - so what? I was there. I'm thankful to the people that gave me a chance. I just couldn't fight in a Bra and Panties Match that she was so eager to be a part of, she undressed herself. But that's beside the point - I still managed to leave people talking. Oh, yeah, you claim I didn't; maybe you should get your ears checked... That, or your Internet provider. I left people talking not because of a win or a loss, but because of what happened later: renovation. The Bitches With Attitude may be an old name, but we are a new group.
And this, Mercy cakes, is what makes me superior. I know how to piss you off. I know how to sting you the hardest. And even in defeat, I know how to make you keep wanting me, because it doesn't f***ing matter how many times you or anyone else defeats me, I'll always be one... level... higher. Because I keep renewing myself. You... You're still Charlie Sheen's lost parrot ever since your little run as tag team champion with Conway. Yay for excitement.
So think better, Mercedes, before you speak up. If you have an enormous pleasure in beating me every time we meet, if people expect me to defeat you and everyone else, and it's a big accomplishment for you to pin me down for the un-deux-trois, who is the best one between us?
That's how I rock, baby cakes. Deal with it.