|
|
|
|
|
Submitted by Andy Savana on Monday, September 1, 2008 at 12:00 PM EST
 Monologue of Addiction “Allow me to introduce myself as Andy Savana, the ‘acclaimed’ writer of the CF, whose column you are now reading. I live the pretty simple life of waking up, going to Alternative school, and then coming home and repeating everything all over again to pass another day of my simple life. I am usually pretty keen on keeping things the same for a long time just as long as they are convenient for me and cause no inconveniences. A while back, about three months, I started this habit known as smoking cigarettes. I’ve been smoking non-stop since then and don’t really plan to stop despite all the bad publicity it gets on television. With the plot of the story now introduced to you, I now present to you the point of the introduction. I go to alternative school every weekday to serve out the rest of my time for some il-fated crime that went down about 6 months ago. To update you on the rules of alternative school, they don’t offer smoke breaks to the students. Not that any other school offers breaks, but alternative school really should. The teachers there are sad little specs of life’s that talk shit about the kids in the school more than they even mention their family. They plot against certain ‘intelligent’ kids who show too much promise, especially the ones who are smarter than the teachers themselves. Like myself who had to teach the Math teacher how to do algebra. Bless the Math teachers heart because she had to get her GED and then put up with the fuehrer- principal. Anyway, so I’m stuck in this 95% oppressive school with teachers who have too much time on their hands and sometimes I really need a smoke break, or a blowjob. I'm sixteen and I know I shouldn’t be smoking, or getting blowjobs in school, but that is beyond the point. It’s the fact that I do smoke and this issue has been brought to my attention. I pressed for a little miniature petition to be put into place that would allow us at least a single smoke break throughout the day. Needless to say, they laughed in my face and called me a future convict in the making and then took five points off of my conduct. Which is bullshit, because their all smokers too. My history teacher in there wears a fucking nicotine patch throughout the day to avoid smoking in the back. I say we let everyone smoke and no one needs to wear a damn patch. Fuck, they won’t even let me bring lint, let alone a nicotine patch, into the place so I don’t even have that luxury. All these little details end up building to an uncontrollable hate for Alternative school, which I guess is what they wanted in the end. There is a catch to my hate though. Just the other night I had my first cigarette in about three days and each drag of the nicotine filled cancer stick was like a miniature orgasm in my mouth, and, or lungs. At that point in time, I wasn’t quite so angry with Alternative school happening the next day or was I even dreading it as much. I could just smoke really late at night and then it wouldn’t be quite as long until I had the next cigarette or anything. It would make the day go by somewhat shorter. Also, no, I cannot smoke in the morning before Alternative school. It makes me have to take a shit and that school has no toilet paper or even doors. Besides the fact that they do not allow us to go to the restroom by ourselves without a teacher sitting there watching us. I once pretended I had a migraine and snuck into the teachers restroom so I could take a nice shit. Anyway, so this got me thinking on wrestling. Shit, if I’m talking about wrestling, it’s time for your Main Torture.”  Nicotine Filled Belts? So I’m sitting, wondering, and figuring out the problems in life that google cannot answer. I suddenly realize that cranium accessories just aren’t for the faint of heart and you really have to understand just how to utilize them to your advantage. I used my brain for some problem solving questions and drew comparison between Cigarettes and holding a championship title in wrestling. It might seem shallow but there are deeper meanings to it than just looking shiny. Not every wrestler totally enjoys going out there and just making the people cheer while he loses, or wins, his matches up to three times a week. Some of them probably just wrestle because everyone told them that they would really be a good wrestler. Not a fake wrestler, but a real wrestler who look gayer than the fake stuff. They attempted to be real wrestlers and things went to hell faster than Beniot on speed and their left at home hating their lives. Contemplating suicide, thinking up a will, and trying to budget everything they need for the operation will sometimes get the juices in their brains moving to a point that they can realize the better of the options. Nothing will get them over more the fans than them actually having some legit wrestling skills. That’s what they think at least until they get into the business and they are jobbing to some fat guy with a glittery mask. After about five months of pointlessly winning, or losing, matches, he may decide that it is almost time for him to quit the business and go back home and be a physical education teacher or something to those little fat kids who he would end up jobbing to anyway. Something magical happens to that wrestler at just the right moment though. The writers, through the luck of spinning a spinner, decide to push that athletic piece of meat higher up the card and give him a run with the gold. Like any other human being, who would be thrilled to be handed something shiny, the wrestler decides that this ‘might’ be the business for him. Things are going great for our athletic wrestler and he seems to be in a happy place with his shiny piece of gold around his waist. Until…three weeks later the writers realize he is pure shit on the microphone and take away his gold. He is hurt, stunned, and shocked to near suicidal death at how quick the joy of the gold left him. It did place some sort of anxiousness in him though, because he knows it can happen again. Through the grace, once again, of a spinner landing on his name, the wrestler is given another chance at the gold. With almost similar results as last time, though, because he loses it just two weeks later this time. This really must mean that the sport isn’t for him because he isn’t in WCW and the title switching hand so much isn’t normal. He is now even more anxious to get the gold back and each day without it will only make him dislike life just a tad bit more. What we now have is an addict. He is addicted the feeling he gets when he gets to walk around with gold around his waist and every time he gets the gold, he has to keep it for longer and get it back quicker once he loses it. He’s a gold fiend and will do anything in the world to get the gold back. He may do steroids to get buff so that he is noticed as he walks around the backstage. He may sleep with someone within the company so that he can get multiple world title reigns. He may end up doing both, the steroids and the sleeping, in order to get double the amount of reigns. There is an underlying problem to his problem though. We get used to seeing him in the gold hunt or with the gold around his waist that we can’t handle him without either. If he decides to wear a patch or something and stay away from the gold, we get all antsy and start complaining about how he was much better near the gold. This is true to some stars, because some of them are only entertaining when they have something shiny in the screen with them. Other than that, we lose interest in anything else they attempt to do. This results in relapse, friends. This person is now getting less and less amounts of cheers as time go on and he is feeling the itch for a world title reign. He is just really pumped up about getting that gold ‘fix’ of his. He’s gone about a year or two without a reign but he’s been useless since then and nothing has gotten him naturally high since then. He reads some message boards with the spare time he has from not being booked for shows and knows that we want him to have gold. So he fucks the person ten times harder and takes twice the amounts of steroids. They don’t do anything to make him feel better because he is only out for one shiny thing, the gold. YAY! They win the title and they have their fix but they are back to square one and they end up holding the title for twelve months too long. We hate them again and they are forced to revert back to not holding gold. The withdrawal this time is too unbearable and they come out with crazy gimmicks so that we can cheer them and they still get their gold. It isn’t working for them and we are losing interest quicker and quicker. BUSTED FOR ROIDS!!!! The ‘hard worker’ is busted for roids and there is no hope of him getting the gold back anytime soon. He fucked up by getting caught and now he is no longer entitled to any fix in the future. Maybe he should have got the chick within the company pregnant instead of supping himself up. She might have been so happy by their ‘miracle’ that she gives him a reign that coincides with the birth of the baby. It won’t happen like that now because he is sitting at home lifting boxes as they move to a smaller place. RIPPED BICEP!!! Just lifting one box wrong was enough to rip one of his biceps and this esse is definitely not getting a title reign. One by one, his dreams are all being smashed by his horrible mistakes to get to the top. For what though? For a simple fix of attention and shininess around his waist? Tempting, but not that tempting. Now is the time for him to turn his back on his addiction and simply look at the wrestling business as a hobby rather than a contest. He entered because he thought it would benefit him and it still can, but only if he changes his ways. He can’t have what he wants all the time but if he doesn’t want it ever and gets it sometimes, that’s a good thing. Makes it better when you actually don’t want it but it makes you feel good anyway. I sometimes don’t feel for a cigarette but I smoke and it feels good. No doubt that this is any different.  This is it for this edition. This is based of true events in terms of the smoking of cigarettes and whatnot. Some little metaphors going on and shit. I also squeezed in a Mitch Hedberg joke somewhere near the beginning. Tell me if you can spot it. Pretty excited for his new CD coming out in a week or two. Going to buy it and then burn it to my ipod. I will eventually fall asleep to the voice of him noticing the unnoticeable. Quite the future I have planned for myself. Until Next Time, Andy Savana. EMAIL: fireman10128@yahoo.com O yeah, go check out the forums. I came from there and a new Column of the Month is being crowned right around this time. No doubt you would like to see one of the future Main Pagers in action.
|
|