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So for those who don't leave their parent’s basement, I've
been spreading my wrestling juices for the past three months
in the U S of A. This is a PG website, so I guess I'm
limited to what I can recap. Now I could have spoken about
my time in Vegas watching my French-Canadian homeboy Georges
St Pierre destroy BJ Penn at UFC 94 and then almost getting
kicked out of GSP's afterparty. Or I could speak of my EWF
American Championship match coming up. Or my knack for
pocket billiards. But no, I will talk about my run-in with
the twilight zone of Planet Earth!
TIJUANA, MEXICO...
It was a sunny day in San Bernardino, California. Myself and
C. Edward Vanderpyle (of former NWA World Champion Adam
Pearce managerial fame) were suffering some serious cabin
fever in our bachelor pad. It can be tiring spending all day
inside watching the Sexy Chino Battle Royale over and over,
so I randomly said "Let's go to Mexico."
Vanderpyle replied with "Ok, get your passport."
"No way bro, I was joking."
"Get in the car or I'll leave you home alone with the
British kid". That was all I had to hear and I was off to TJ.
Fastforward three hours and we're at the border. Now while a
distinct lack of customs officials at the border may scare a
regular dude, this hombre wasn’t phased one bit.
Now let me just say, I've beaten up a lot of Mexicans, so I
was kind of wary that I'd be recognised and turn around to
have a midget give me a Super Dos Hurricanrana La Casadore
onto the middle of the road. But then I found out that
Mexicans are a kind species as within a 10min walk over the
border I was offered Xanax, Vicodin, Viagra, Nunchucks, Hand
Grenades, Fireworks, Knives, a barmen's sister, free
tequila, a BUCKET of beer and "Zebras". These zebras were
really donkeys poorly painted black and white, but I’m not
much for particulars.
Unfortunately, I had to decline all these offers as my
pockets were full. A few locals were calling me "Spikey D",
obviously referring to my money hair and the first letter of
my first name. Nice guys!
Before I knew it I could hear Vanderpyle calling my name. I
looked over to see a man walking next to us ON FIRE!!! Yep,
this idiot had no idea that somebody had set him completely
ablaze. I could have been a Good Samaritan and alerted him
to the issue, but I don't speak Mexican, and it's probably
just some local custom.
So after all this action, myself and the big man set
ourselves down at a bar and enjoy a burrito lunch surrounded
by some beautiful latinas. I was settling into my story
about the time Juventud Guerrerra dropkicked a female cop in
Australia when I looked down over the balcony to see an Army
Tank full of ski masked police with rifles just patrolling
the streets. Suffice to say, I cut the story short, got the
hell out of dodge and hastily left this veritable wonderland
to rejoin reality in the land of the free.
So on to things back home. I know the fans of Perth have
been missing seeing The Goldenboy in action, especially
since I was screwed out of the Invitational Trophy. But I'll
be back in the motherland sooner rather than later and with
my biggest fan Amber by my side, 2009 will be the year I
finally get my hands on some sweet, sweet gold.
Adios suckers.
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