Last night I had the distinct pleasure of attending the prestigious WWE Monday Night Raw.  Now, I’ll make fun of this show/event until the day that I die but they put on one heck of a show.  And people, I know it’s fake but it’s tan, muscled men without shirts on.  So try to stop me from going. 

We left these cuties at home to fend for themselves.

The arena was filled with the scent of stale cigarettes and beer breath.  We were sandwiched between a Shawn Michaels wannabe and a family that had to get up and go to the bathroom every five seconds. 

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves…along with some words of course.

Looks like the night is off to a rousing beginning .  What is my deal?  It looks like my husband drugged me to come to the event.  And if you enlarge this picture I think there’s a bat in the cave in the left nostril.

Ok, this would have been fabulous but since I have no sense of light there’s a lovely shadow of my arm/camera taking up most of the picture. 

Drama, drama, drama…always drama.

That’s my husband’s hero, Randy Orton.  He has the body that my husband wants to obtain someday.  I will not argue that one bit.

John Cena ladies and gentleman.  One of the only reasons I care one lick about wrestling. 

Ok, this guy.  I could not get a good picture of his costume. Or is it a uniform? Outfit?  Anyway, the guy on the ground–bright purple/pink, tight spandex, one long leg and one no leg pants.  So hot.  Right? Wrong.

Cheech and Chong were the guest hosts for the evening.  Totally appropriate given that fifty percent of the audience were children.  Only 99% of their jokes were drug references though, so it was ok.

The man on the left–that folks, that is what billions of dollars looks like. 

Ok, here’s where the excitement comes in…

Look at that picture.  Notice anyone?  Maybe to the right of that sign?

Let’s look a little closer…

That’s right! I was on NATIONAL TELEVISION!  Looking bored as all get-out!  And my poor husband.  I shall call him Sign Head. 

But wait…

I spy–ME on the jumbo tron.  So I feign excitement.

And I’m smiling.  Because I know, I’m awesome.

I did notice three things while watching myself for those few fateful seconds on television. 

  1. I need bangs again. 
  2. I need a tan. At least a good bronzer.
  3. The smacking of the gum needs to stop–IMMEDIATELY!  I was chomping on that gum like my life depended on it.