Match One: Sheik Hussain and Tork vs Roger 'Cadillac' Williamson and 'Wildcat' Willie Loomis
'Cadillac' is an upbeat energetic fellow that easily gets the crowd on his side. The fact that he's going up against the hated Sheik Hussain didn't hurt any. The crowd cheered for everything 'Cadillac' and his tag-team partner 'Wildcat' did while booing the Sheik and Tork. As the match went on, Tork seemed to hesitate when given orders by the Sheik, as if annoyed with the Sheik or disagreeing with him. This delay would lead to miscommunication which led to 'Cadillac' hitting a cross body block off the top rope on Tork and getting the pin.
Match Two: Mas Caras vs Charlie Blackman
Another match, another shiny new mask for Mas Caras. The mask seemed to inspire him and Caras beat Blackman all about the ring as well as outside of it. Over confident, the tide turned against Caras when Blackman reversed a whip into the steel ring post. Blackman rallied, hit a shoulder breaker on Caras and got him to submit to a hammerlock of all things.
Match Three: Irish Thunder defending their All-Wisconsin Tag Team Championship against Psycho Mike and the Spoiler
The Spoiler was on a roll. The speed of Irish Thunder was no match for his strength and determination. Elbows! Forearm smashes! Clotheslines! He had them reeling and rocking! Then Psycho Mike tagged himself into the match. The Spoiler didn't care for this, there were some intense words between the tag partners, and Irish Thunder used this moment to rally. The Spoiler was knocked to the outside, they hit two double-team moves on Psycho Mike before quickly connecting with their rocket launcher finisher and getting the three count to retain their belts.
Intermission. I bumped into Cantiflas and he remembered me! Very cool. He didn't have time to talk but did invite me to come hang out with the group after the show. I couldn't due to other plans but it was just nice to know that I'd made friends.
Match Four: Tracey Brown vs Madam Maureen
Don't often see a ladies match on a LLW card. Both ladies were attractive but neither really had the skills that you see with the gentlemen wrestlers. Perhaps that explains why Cantiflas doesn't have them in often: he doesn't find female workers that he likes. The fresh faced Tracey got the win with a surprise roll-up.
Match Five: The Executioner vs Stan 'The Man' Miracle
Could Stan pull out another Miracle against the might and power of the Executioner? In a word, no. After a massive powerbomb, the Executioner got the pin.
Match Six: Brother Zeke vs El Hombre de Silla
After a trip wrestling elsewhere, El Hombre is back! The crowd was thrilled to see him back and the cheering was massive! He and Brother Zeke shook hands before the match and had a very friendly, but very competitive match. El Hombre caught Zeke in the crossface submission hold, releasing it as soon as Zeke tapped out. After the match, they once again shook hands, hugged, raised each other's hands. Very nice. Pity I can't hang out with them tonight as I'd like to meet El Hombre.
Match Seven: Rugged Robbie V defends his All-Wisconsin Heavyweight Championship vs Buff Mysterio Jr.
Buff had a rematch clause in his contract. Great back and forth match. Unsurprisingly, the Executioner eventually made his way out to ringside. The boos at seeing him disappeared once El Hombre came running out, chair swinging, to chase him away. In the confusion, Buff was distracted and fell victim to a missile dropkick from Rugged Robbie V. Three count. Over, Robbie remains the Champ!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Speech
Public speaking.
Face facts, I just scared most of you more than any horror movie or piece on the news. Many people are terrified by the concept of speaking in public, moreso that the fear of auto accidents or vampire attack or giant robots stepping on your house. Sure vampires are scary but they'll never get you. No one believes it'll happen to them. However, it is much more likely that you'll get called upon to get up in front of a group of workmates and explain your plan for a new phone system. Therefore it's much scarier.
Part of it is the standing. Sitting in your chair is less of a problem. It's much easier to sit around a table expressing your opinion than it is to stand up to do so. I think standing draws more attention to yourself and makes you more self conscious. It's as if you are going 'look at me and dissect every word coming from my mouth as you mock the fact that my hair is standing up oddly'. For some reason this kicks in even when it's a small group of people you know well. They're staring at you, trying to pay attention to what you're saying, hopefully wanting you to succeed, and you just get more nervous.
I've been a public speaker many times in life, not regularly but often. It's been enough times that I don't mind doing it but still don't enjoy doing it. I know most of the basic rules and worry about following them as I do it: stand up straight so that you can breath properly, keep your hands out of your pockets or off the podium should there be one, don't shift your weight from one foot to the other repeatedly, know your material, things like these. Just because I'm experienced doesn't mean that I don't agonize over it, going over speeches in my head as I try to sleep, rewriting things in my head as I drive. It's still nerve wracking.
Cuthbold knows I worry about speech making more than I should. That's why he decided to help me out. To reduce my tension, so he said, he didn't tell me until today that I had a speech to give... today! It was all written out for me so it was more of a reading than anything else but still!
It's not that easy to go up in front of a group of people and read something, even if the group knows you're just reading it. You need to be familiar with the text so that you don't continually stumble over the words and irritate your audience. You need to know it well enough to bring life to it so as to engage the audience's attention. If you can get them on your side, being comfortable enough to be friendly and energetic, they'll stay with you when you do fumble or stumble.
I had two hours to become familiar with about a half-hour's worth of speech. Thank you Cuthbold!
Clearly I survived the experience. The anticipation is generally worse than the event. No one started snoring. No one threw rotten fruit at me, or unrotten fruit for that matter. No one mocked me. I got up, did my words, got a chuckle at my witty comments, and sat back down again. In the end, no big deal.
I coasted through the afternoon though. Some days you earn your salary early in the day. This was one of them.
Face facts, I just scared most of you more than any horror movie or piece on the news. Many people are terrified by the concept of speaking in public, moreso that the fear of auto accidents or vampire attack or giant robots stepping on your house. Sure vampires are scary but they'll never get you. No one believes it'll happen to them. However, it is much more likely that you'll get called upon to get up in front of a group of workmates and explain your plan for a new phone system. Therefore it's much scarier.
Part of it is the standing. Sitting in your chair is less of a problem. It's much easier to sit around a table expressing your opinion than it is to stand up to do so. I think standing draws more attention to yourself and makes you more self conscious. It's as if you are going 'look at me and dissect every word coming from my mouth as you mock the fact that my hair is standing up oddly'. For some reason this kicks in even when it's a small group of people you know well. They're staring at you, trying to pay attention to what you're saying, hopefully wanting you to succeed, and you just get more nervous.
I've been a public speaker many times in life, not regularly but often. It's been enough times that I don't mind doing it but still don't enjoy doing it. I know most of the basic rules and worry about following them as I do it: stand up straight so that you can breath properly, keep your hands out of your pockets or off the podium should there be one, don't shift your weight from one foot to the other repeatedly, know your material, things like these. Just because I'm experienced doesn't mean that I don't agonize over it, going over speeches in my head as I try to sleep, rewriting things in my head as I drive. It's still nerve wracking.
Cuthbold knows I worry about speech making more than I should. That's why he decided to help me out. To reduce my tension, so he said, he didn't tell me until today that I had a speech to give... today! It was all written out for me so it was more of a reading than anything else but still!
It's not that easy to go up in front of a group of people and read something, even if the group knows you're just reading it. You need to be familiar with the text so that you don't continually stumble over the words and irritate your audience. You need to know it well enough to bring life to it so as to engage the audience's attention. If you can get them on your side, being comfortable enough to be friendly and energetic, they'll stay with you when you do fumble or stumble.
I had two hours to become familiar with about a half-hour's worth of speech. Thank you Cuthbold!
Clearly I survived the experience. The anticipation is generally worse than the event. No one started snoring. No one threw rotten fruit at me, or unrotten fruit for that matter. No one mocked me. I got up, did my words, got a chuckle at my witty comments, and sat back down again. In the end, no big deal.
I coasted through the afternoon though. Some days you earn your salary early in the day. This was one of them.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Static in the System
“At least it's not a restaurant.”
Sarah Jean's words came through the purple air thick and heavy. There was a feeling of ebb and flow, as if being affected by waves of water, yet there was no water. “You can't say I never take you anywhere.”
“This may count as nowhere,” she observed. “Was that a giraffe?”
“Where?”
“It's gone now, whatever it was.” Sarah Jean sighed. “I'm not sure I like floating here like this. Try focusing us to somewhere.”
“The changing colors aren't soothing to you at all?” I checked.
“They are nice,” she reassured, “but they're not what I'm in the mood for right now.” Focusing brought us a man speaking nonsense seated upon a red cow. “That's not much help. Who is that?”
“I think it's my Uncle Gene,” I answered. “I haven't seen him since I was about ten.”
“Any reason you'd be thinking about him now?”
I shook my head and quickly regretted the action. It felt like it took a day to move my head from one side to the next and the process left me nauseated. “I was trying to put us in a sunny field.”
“That might explain the cow,” she observed. “It doesn't explain why it's red.”
“Strawberry milk?” I offered.
“Do you often drink strawberry milk?” she checked.
“No. I probably haven't had that since... I was about ten.”
“Flashback time. You weren't on LSD as a child, were you?”
“No,” I answered. “Why?”
She grinned. “It would explain the colors. Very psychedelic.” My Uncle Gene's babbling was replaced by a blaring guitar, a well played guitar but loud. “Well, that worked!” she shouted over the noise. There was some shouting back and forth as I sought to communicate to Sarah Jean that she should say something else, to see if that would trigger another change in our surroundings. Once this message was received, she fought to have me hear her response. Finally I heard “I am hungry!”
Immediately we were elsewhere. The colors were replaced by walls, the guitar by hustle and bustle, and Uncle Gene became a number of similarly faced police officers. We were in a police station. “That was unexpected,” Sarah Jean stated. “I thought we would go back to the restaurant.”
“I suppose that we're here to 'arrest' your hunger,” I observed. She groaned and slugged me on the arm. And that was that.
Sarah Jean's words came through the purple air thick and heavy. There was a feeling of ebb and flow, as if being affected by waves of water, yet there was no water. “You can't say I never take you anywhere.”
“This may count as nowhere,” she observed. “Was that a giraffe?”
“Where?”
“It's gone now, whatever it was.” Sarah Jean sighed. “I'm not sure I like floating here like this. Try focusing us to somewhere.”
“The changing colors aren't soothing to you at all?” I checked.
“They are nice,” she reassured, “but they're not what I'm in the mood for right now.” Focusing brought us a man speaking nonsense seated upon a red cow. “That's not much help. Who is that?”
“I think it's my Uncle Gene,” I answered. “I haven't seen him since I was about ten.”
“Any reason you'd be thinking about him now?”
I shook my head and quickly regretted the action. It felt like it took a day to move my head from one side to the next and the process left me nauseated. “I was trying to put us in a sunny field.”
“That might explain the cow,” she observed. “It doesn't explain why it's red.”
“Strawberry milk?” I offered.
“Do you often drink strawberry milk?” she checked.
“No. I probably haven't had that since... I was about ten.”
“Flashback time. You weren't on LSD as a child, were you?”
“No,” I answered. “Why?”
She grinned. “It would explain the colors. Very psychedelic.” My Uncle Gene's babbling was replaced by a blaring guitar, a well played guitar but loud. “Well, that worked!” she shouted over the noise. There was some shouting back and forth as I sought to communicate to Sarah Jean that she should say something else, to see if that would trigger another change in our surroundings. Once this message was received, she fought to have me hear her response. Finally I heard “I am hungry!”
Immediately we were elsewhere. The colors were replaced by walls, the guitar by hustle and bustle, and Uncle Gene became a number of similarly faced police officers. We were in a police station. “That was unexpected,” Sarah Jean stated. “I thought we would go back to the restaurant.”
“I suppose that we're here to 'arrest' your hunger,” I observed. She groaned and slugged me on the arm. And that was that.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Lunch is the Mind Killer
Lunch can be the great destroyer of motivation and momentum. You're having a good morning, you're getting things done, everything is falling into place, and then it becomes lunch time. When do you break off? When do you let things run without you for awhile? What do you eat? Where do you eat? Add a Friday afternoon into the mix and then suddenly you're in your office, it's 1:30, and you look around and go 'eh'.
Suddenly you were gone too long. Suddenly you ate too much. Suddenly all those grand plans you had to get caught up no longer appeal to you anymore. Suddenly the rest of the day becomes an exercise in struggling to feel that you got something else done.
Stupid lunch. I love lunch but stupid lunch.
Suddenly you were gone too long. Suddenly you ate too much. Suddenly all those grand plans you had to get caught up no longer appeal to you anymore. Suddenly the rest of the day becomes an exercise in struggling to feel that you got something else done.
Stupid lunch. I love lunch but stupid lunch.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Voluntering at a Fundraiser Could Work
Once a year, the Museum holds a fund raiser within the exhibit halls where food and beer is served, mostly beer. Bands play music. It's one big party.
Breweries come from all over for this event. While most are microbrews from our state, I've seen some from as far away as California and beers imported from Canada, Belgium, and England. Each brewery brings a variety of beverages from which to sample. There is no way to try them all in the three hours that the event is open. In earlier years, I've managed to visit every stand, or at least nearly every stand, but as the event has grown, that's not even possible any more. There are good beers and great beers to try.
This is why I'm concerned about working the event. I really enjoy the Museum. I really enjoy beer. I really enjoy being in the Museum with beer, as crowded as it can get. It's the sort of awesome that should happen more than once a year. Since it is only once a year, I don't want to miss it by working it.
Perhaps there is an after party where the volunteers polish off any remaining beer. Since I've walked around near closing time and have seen breweries run out of beer, this may not happen. Not knowing what I'm volunteering for doesn't help me either. Will I be working the door or the raffle, nowhere near the exhibits or the beer? Will I be transporting items?
I suppose Cuthbold has a point. I should focus on the fact that I'll be helping an institution I love, as well as the school that pays my bills. It shouldn't make a difference what I do as long as I'm helping.
It would be neat to be by the dinosaurs though.
Breweries come from all over for this event. While most are microbrews from our state, I've seen some from as far away as California and beers imported from Canada, Belgium, and England. Each brewery brings a variety of beverages from which to sample. There is no way to try them all in the three hours that the event is open. In earlier years, I've managed to visit every stand, or at least nearly every stand, but as the event has grown, that's not even possible any more. There are good beers and great beers to try.
This is why I'm concerned about working the event. I really enjoy the Museum. I really enjoy beer. I really enjoy being in the Museum with beer, as crowded as it can get. It's the sort of awesome that should happen more than once a year. Since it is only once a year, I don't want to miss it by working it.
Perhaps there is an after party where the volunteers polish off any remaining beer. Since I've walked around near closing time and have seen breweries run out of beer, this may not happen. Not knowing what I'm volunteering for doesn't help me either. Will I be working the door or the raffle, nowhere near the exhibits or the beer? Will I be transporting items?
I suppose Cuthbold has a point. I should focus on the fact that I'll be helping an institution I love, as well as the school that pays my bills. It shouldn't make a difference what I do as long as I'm helping.
It would be neat to be by the dinosaurs though.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Volunteered
“We're doing what now?”
Cuthbold sighed. “Oh, do pay attention Patrick. The university is providing staff assistance to the upcoming fundraising event at the Museum.”
“Volunteers,” I translated. “And I've already been volunteered, haven't I?”
“I've never known you to turn down an opportunity to assist the Museum before. I put your name down immediately upon receiving the information from the Museum.” He frowned. “Did they offend in some way?”
“No, it's nothing like that,” I reassured. “I was just planning on attending the event.”
Cuthbold was still confused. “You will be attending the event.”
“Yes but I was planning to attend the event as a customer not as a volunteer.”
“Eitherway you are contributing to the fundraising events of the Museum,” Cuthbold declared, his beaming smile indicating that, in his mind at least, all had been settled. “This way you also get to assist the maintenance of our good relationship with that institution.”
“I bet this way I get less beer,” I grumbled beneath my breath.
Cuthbold sighed. “Oh, do pay attention Patrick. The university is providing staff assistance to the upcoming fundraising event at the Museum.”
“Volunteers,” I translated. “And I've already been volunteered, haven't I?”
“I've never known you to turn down an opportunity to assist the Museum before. I put your name down immediately upon receiving the information from the Museum.” He frowned. “Did they offend in some way?”
“No, it's nothing like that,” I reassured. “I was just planning on attending the event.”
Cuthbold was still confused. “You will be attending the event.”
“Yes but I was planning to attend the event as a customer not as a volunteer.”
“Eitherway you are contributing to the fundraising events of the Museum,” Cuthbold declared, his beaming smile indicating that, in his mind at least, all had been settled. “This way you also get to assist the maintenance of our good relationship with that institution.”
“I bet this way I get less beer,” I grumbled beneath my breath.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Warning of Sorts
Chris looked haggard. Chris doesn't look haggard. I didn't think he could look haggard, being a vampire and all. “Ah Patrick. Good of you to come so promptly.”
“Well, you know I'm always keen to come visit,” I noted. “Getting a summons was a bit different.”
“The situation we find ourselves in is a bit different so some cautious is called for from all of us.” Chris leaned forward, the flames in the fireplace creating uniquely creepy shadows on his face. “The nature of reality is torn.”
I shivered. There is something in the timber of Chris' voice that generates shivers. His voice rumbles like a bass speaker. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Exactly?” Chris echoed. He leaned back in his mighty chair. “Exactly I am not sure. I can provide an approximate explanation.”
“Ballpark will work for me.”
“Excellent.” See? Shivers. His 'excellent' sounds like it's the response to 'we just executed the traitors'. He means well and he's creepy at the same time. “As it was explained to us, the walls between realities are thin at the moment. Normally abnormal phenomenon will be much less abnormal until the walls can be strengthened, rebuilt if you will.”
“So it's being taken care of?” Chris nodded. “That's good to know. What do we do in the meantime? Anything?”
“We were told to be extra alert,” was Chris' response.
“That doesn't really help,” I noted. “What does that mean exactly?”
“You have an interest in precision today.” Chris smiled. “As I asked the same question, clearly so do I.”
“And you received no clear answer.”
“Quite correct Patrick. The goal of the warning appears to be to reduce future panic but all it did was to generate current panic. Perhaps we will collide with the inhabitants of a parallel world or an alternate dimension. Perhaps the Old Ones of legend will attempt to reclaim the Earth for themselves. Or, perhaps, we will see nothing.”
“Just the normal abnormal,” I quipped.
“Yes.”
“Well, you know I'm always keen to come visit,” I noted. “Getting a summons was a bit different.”
“The situation we find ourselves in is a bit different so some cautious is called for from all of us.” Chris leaned forward, the flames in the fireplace creating uniquely creepy shadows on his face. “The nature of reality is torn.”
I shivered. There is something in the timber of Chris' voice that generates shivers. His voice rumbles like a bass speaker. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Exactly?” Chris echoed. He leaned back in his mighty chair. “Exactly I am not sure. I can provide an approximate explanation.”
“Ballpark will work for me.”
“Excellent.” See? Shivers. His 'excellent' sounds like it's the response to 'we just executed the traitors'. He means well and he's creepy at the same time. “As it was explained to us, the walls between realities are thin at the moment. Normally abnormal phenomenon will be much less abnormal until the walls can be strengthened, rebuilt if you will.”
“So it's being taken care of?” Chris nodded. “That's good to know. What do we do in the meantime? Anything?”
“We were told to be extra alert,” was Chris' response.
“That doesn't really help,” I noted. “What does that mean exactly?”
“You have an interest in precision today.” Chris smiled. “As I asked the same question, clearly so do I.”
“And you received no clear answer.”
“Quite correct Patrick. The goal of the warning appears to be to reduce future panic but all it did was to generate current panic. Perhaps we will collide with the inhabitants of a parallel world or an alternate dimension. Perhaps the Old Ones of legend will attempt to reclaim the Earth for themselves. Or, perhaps, we will see nothing.”
“Just the normal abnormal,” I quipped.
“Yes.”
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