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Gay as FOOK

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About Gay as FOOK

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    Mid Carder
  • Birthday 12/02/1990

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    kingofthering621@hotmail.com
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    liberationfourtwenty@yahoo.com

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    A huge ever growing pulsating brain that rules from the centre of the ultraworld

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  1. Gay as FOOK

    The Official UKFF RAW Thread...

    Cena's hair rules. I know the whole all American thing is his shtick but sometimes that buzz cut just made him a bit too jarhead for me. Especially with the angry promos and desert storm jorts. Proper Abu Ghraib vibes.
  2. Gay as FOOK

    The "I've just watched ..." thread

    Capital Carnage was the first tape I owned, in a double set with King of the Ring 2000. To my knowledge the only other double set Silvervision done was SummerSlam 2000 + Mayhem in Manchester, which still strikes me as a far better deal. I didn't get that. I got the evening gown match and Vinnie Jones in his Lock Stock costume. KOTR was a damp squib and by far the worst event of WWE's best year ever, and Capital Carnage was my first insight into the madness of the Attitude Era before I started watching in 2000, so Capital Carnage got played a lot. As a result, I have an unshakeable nostalgia for that show. You know the way they say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die? In my case, I'll probably have that clipped opening audio of Michael Cole going "It's capital, capital. At the London, London arena" echoing in my head. I love the quasi house show vibe of this show. Right down to how the pyro looks like it was done by some local dodgy boys. It's WWF Attitude, the PlayStation game, in the form of an actual card. In retrospect sending Tiger out like they did was obvious race bait but, y'know, 'rasslin. Vince's infamous 'Pakistani extraction' promo to me remains nothing more than a TV character doing a hilariously over the top cheap heat bid. No, it's not One Night Only. It's still better than Mayhem in Manchester and No Mercy UK, though. The four way main event with Vince on commentary is a fun brawl, with awesome entrance atmosphere for all the guys. I remember X-Pac and Rock being really, really good and need to watch it back now to see how it holds up. Rebellion 99 is another good UK one. Solid stuff, that.
  3. Gay as FOOK

    POSSE: A SCOOTER MUSICAL

    Brilliant. This will likely be the only musical to have Vick's vaporub under every seat in the theatre, and should by all accounts birth a burgeoning movement of similar efforts once trance starts to get recognised as classical music. I await with baited breath Kevin & Perry Go Musical and for the broadsheets to start asking: Sash or Chicane?
  4. Gay as FOOK

    Quitting Social Media

    I have a ghost account for Facebook group chats that don't use WhatsApp, but that's about it. I got rid of it entirely after hooking up with The One as we live in a pretty self contained bubble, and Cork's a small place. Everyone's reaction was to impress on how free and zesty my life must have become, subsequent to deleting my profile. In reality nothing about the minutiae of my daily life changed - which was sort of the idea - save for freeing up all those accumulated minutes spent scrolling. Now I always have a book handy for the bus. On a walk or sitting in the park I'll stare at trees when they're around, instead, since I'm a fried hippy trope. I'm all for bringing awareness to my senses as much as possible when outside the house, so the less time spent on my phone the better. As said, social media is absolutely what you make of it. It is a mirror of the world we live in, much like television was seen as in its emergent decades. We didn't collectively manage to get rid of that, either. Me, personally? I could do without it, and I'd rather my kids weren't swayed by it either. That's unlikely to happen, though, because by the time they come along, it'll be even more implanted as a sort of digital collective consciousness. I really think it'll be a real fork in the road in years to come - much more so than it is now - to either be a part of social media or abstain from it. Right now I can still check something out if it comes to my attention through the other channels I use to engage my interests. The one thing I find myself doing now is Googling when big artists I like are doing tour dates, because I'm not getting those instant tour posters going up on my feed anymore. Other than that I genuinely don't view it as a big deal. I have my own beliefs about creeping on profiles and shit like that not being the best for the noggin' after a night out, but I don't think I should be the focus of a BBC Three documentary or anything because of my big, brave choice. I'm just a sensory, here-and-now dude whose interests and favourite time periods point me to a misguided nostalgia for a time we didn't have social media. And looking at phones is crap for my eyes and gives me a big, manky headache.
  5. Gay as FOOK

    Happy Fingerpoke Of Doom Day!

    I always felt like the biggest problem with WCW in 1999 was that the format of their TV production started to become increasingly stale. When you're hot, you're hot and certainly when you watch that first Nitro of the year you see a promotion that's losing its mind a bit but that still had 34,788 paid butts filling out the Georgia Dome. The cast was huge, the licensing was good and the business was hot enough to support two massive promotions. If you modernised the TV like they done around the time of the New Blood angle a year later and had at least a few logical big match PPV builds ticking away at any one time, that company's downward trajectory would have been a lot less drastic. Never mind stupid shit like finger poking, and Schiavone spoiling the Foley thing. It was stupid, but only Mick Foley made out like it was one of the things that took the company to the gallows on that Monday Night Wars tape. In addition to the creative maladies that plagued the organisation, 1999 really sticks out for me as being the year with the three hour Nitro shows that really dragged. A suffocating, airless, supermarket-lit world of grey crash mats, grey rings, bad theme tunes, stock overused camera pans, weirdly placed segments, no forward momentum, and no real sense of their being a backstage ecosystem. Just a tepid, exhausted procession of talented acts in the same place each week and the type of shitty acts that made it look like a tribute show to the real deal over on USA. Hacksaw, Disco Inferno, Brian Knobs. The kind of gaudy parade of nonsense my dad still thinks wrestling is. The kind of thing that reminds you of how other media depict wrestling when they show all these flabby, liver spotted, jingoistic carnival acts. You know adverts on TV during the 90s boom that tried to cash in on the wrestling buzz, only thought that it permanently looked like Apollo Creed's entrance in Rocky IV? That was WCW in 1999. No wonder we thought Gangrel and Val Venis were so cool at the time.
  6. Gay as FOOK

    Wrestler's Gravestones

    Here lies Val Venis. Six feet, heh-heh-heh, deep.
  7. Gay as FOOK

    Paul Hardcastle's Domestic Football 18/nuh nuh nuh 19

    The neutrals favourite thing is certified, steaming bollocks. A creation of sports journalism. Very, very few actual Liverpool fans want or espouse that title. Just because you know twats that do does not deter from that. Honestly, it's such fucking bollocks. Getting over excited is definitely part of our make up, though. It rules. It's a wonderfully fun thing to upset others with.
  8. Gay as FOOK

    Words/Phrases that can do one, get me fam?

    "Don't be annoyed because I'm doing me better than you're doing you", "just being awesome", "doing it my way" or any other variation that paints your ordinary life out to be this brazen act of artistic defiance.
  9. Gay as FOOK

    Review A Debut Gimmick Match

    Yeah I edited it as soon as I looked it up! Wasn't sure anymore to consider it a last man standing or not. I guess Armageddon Rules is... sort of a first, still? Sod it, inferno should keep me busy.
  10. Gay as FOOK

    Celebrities You Hate (for no apparent reason!)

    George Lamb. I'd love to kick him up the arse, like Bishop Brennan.
  11. Gay as FOOK

    Insomnia

    This is so true. And whilst it goes against all medical advice, those of us with hardcore insomnia sometimes know it's better to just get up and do something. If I know I'm proper fucked I'll just switch on the small lamp and read. Put my time to use. Sometimes an all nighter has a novel buzz to it the next day that's more acceptable than the absolute stink of falling asleep and having your alarm go an hour later.
  12. Gay as FOOK

    Paul Hardcastle's Domestic Football 18/nuh nuh nuh 19

    I like this guy. It's tightening up that's got us to the top of the table this year, though.
  13. Gay as FOOK

    Insomnia

    Every October without fail it seems to kick in for a few weeks. At its worst I'll go a week or two sleeping in patterns of 2 hours, 4 hours, a broken 6 etc to the point where I physically cannot go to work, because the aforementioned cunt also prickles my anxiety. I've had one or two complete breakdowns, because of it, usually made worse by having to go to the docs purely to get a sick note. Last time he gave me seroquel and they're still sitting on the shelf at home. Fuck that noise. It sorts itself out after a few nights and personally, I'd rather not pop an antipsychotic for insomnia. All the more power to you if it works, though. I've gotten much better at handling it through mindfulness. When the season kicks in I become a sort of New Age parody. Cup of chamomile before bed, Vicks on the chest, lavender spray from Boots. I got into mantras. Just simple ones. But the repetition of them definitely helps me out, loads. I used to try the whole empty your mind thing, but every few minutes I'd get frustrated at the sheer enormity of that task, and I think it made matters worse. I find I sleep easiest when the opposite happens and I actually go deep into thought, to the point where the hypnagogic carousel kicks in before I know it, and I'm off. Mantras basically let your mind keep chewing impulsively on something, only without having to think about it. Booze always exacerbates my insomnia. Insomnia's ruined booze for me, but I'm thankful for it because booze ruined me for me. It gives the old restless legs, as well. Brutally. That Vicks + lavender spray combination though. Give it a shot.
  14. Gay as FOOK

    Paul Stanley's autobio is an exercise in greatness

    Glam metal sucks. That's not an opinion borne out of some "it goes against my metal code" bollocks, more something derived from the fact that the musicianship is usually a complete afterthought. It does books better than it does albums. Fuck me, though, does it produce some brilliant ones. Populated with the kind of unhygienic, misogynist creatures who make the po faced, actual theistic satanist Norwegian lads look like charmers. Rock books are my go to when I'm breaking up a spell of serious reading, or a big long fantasy series. I've read the Motley Crue ones as a teen, but I'll have to get stuck into this Paul Stanley excrement. I remember reading Manson's one years ago which somehow managed to be more rotten than I'd imagined yet also completely demystified him. There's some stuff in it about how their roadie in the old days would wrangle up vulnerable young fans so the band could videotape confessions out of them backstage about all the rotten stuff that had gone on in their lives. But then there's camp "I feel Christianity falling. Our scabbed wings spread ever further tonight" bits that are interluded with naff lists like what is or isn't gay, rules for drug taking etc. Who said goths can't be jocks? Andrew O'Neill's 'A History of Heavy Metal' is a great one. The actual history of it is like a primer so you'd probably know it all. Kind of like watching something now about the Monday Night Wars. But it's funny as fuck and full of a genuine love for metal and all its craziness. Elsewhere I read Alex Jame's book on a flight once because they had it at the airport. It's all about how much champagne he drank with Damien Hirst. I think Julian Cope might have the best rock book ever, though. The two part autobio. Not the gnostic time travelling novel. Or the one about stone circles. I love Julian Cope.
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