Hey all you WWE ers if any of you out there have a myspace account and would like to add me I have a few of them.

Edgeheads add me here:

http://www.myspace.com/edgehead23

Wrestling fans add me here:

http://www.myspace.com/fan_of_wrestling_for_life

For my personal page add me here:

http://www.myspace.com/crude_lewd_tattooed_23

Hope to see you there soon.

Thanks for reading.

Date: 08/20/2008
Subject: My Sister is Not Right

I am a divorced woman and have been for sometime now mostly by choice or lack of....a few weeks ago my sister introduced me to another member of church...I was very polite and exchanged pleasantries....thought nothing of it. One day my sister told me that he wanted to take me to dinner or something....my sister must have lost her eyesight when she got married, or her damn mind...this brother is all of four feet tall, fat, bald, and nasty. When I go to church I have to run away from him...you would think he would get the message....I asked my sister to let him know that i am not interested and to get him before I let lucifer out in church....sunday I run through at least three rows of people trying to get away....and I almost started to climb over the bench to get away.....I am not a ugly woman, men and women always tell how pretty I am...and I would like to think that I got a lot to offer the right man....I was married for almost 16 years and I don't feel like I lost my taste for a good looking man. so why in the heck would my sister tell Magilla the Gorilla he can date me....I spent this Sunday in the ladies bathroom...hiding out....she said I told her I like bald men....I told her I like tall, bald, facial hair, fine, good smelling brothers.....not short fat and bald...she just laughed...even my Mom has told me to date this guy...I am one step from acting a fool in church and I have always conducted myself as a lady no matter what....I can't take another Sunday like this....I am so mad I am ready to stop talking to her...especially if she don't get Chester. This thing is messing up my Spirtual Walk...Why is it, the ugly ones always want to holler at a sister.....I am single not blind or desperate. Don't get me started about being a single sister in denver..... Please help me before I lose it in Church.....I could say a whole lot more but I will wait and pray for your reply....please don't tell me to date him...

Papa:
No me pegues. Tus golpes no solo hieren mi cuerpo, ¡golpean mi corazón!
Me hacen duro y rebelde, terco torpe y agresivo.

Tus golpes me hacen sentir miserable, pequeño e indigno de ti… mi héroe, me llenan amargura, bloquean mi capacidad de amar, crecen mis temores y nace en mí el odio.

Papi tus golpes me alejan de ti, me enseñan a mentir, cortan mi iniciativa, mi creatividad y mi alegría.
No me des más golpes.
Soy débil e indefenso ante tu fuerza, tus golpes enlutan mi camino y sobre todo, endurecen mi alma.


La fuerza de tu razón es superior a la fuerza de tus golpes, si crees que no te entiendo aun, te prometo que ¡Pronto lo haré!

Más poderosos que tus golpes, más efectivos y grandiosos son: tu afecto, tus caricias, tus palabras y tus besos.

Papito, tu grandeza no esta en el poder de tu fuerza física.
Eres mucho más cuando no necesitas de ella para guiarme.
Solo abrázame y permítete seguir siendo mi héroe para toda la vida.

Fin.

Only Swizz Beatz would have the b**ls to sample a track from 2008! This song is titled "That Oprah" and I LOVE IT! 

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Si muero antes que tú hazme un favor

Llora cuanto quieras pero no te enojes con dios por haberme llevado

Si no quieres llorar no llores, si no logras llorar no te preocupes

Si quieres reír, ríe

Si algunos amigos te cuentan algo de mi, óyelos y cree lo que te digan

Si me elogian demasiado corrige la exageración

Si me critican demasiado defiéndeme

Si quieren hacerme un santo solo por que me morí

Di que yo tenía algo de santo, pero que estaba lejos de ser el santo que dicen

Si quieren hacerme un terrible perverso

Muestra que tal vez yo tuve algo de malo pero que toda la vida procure ser bueno y sobre todo que toda la vida trate de ser mejor

Si sientes tristeza y deseas rezar por mi, puedes hacerlo

Pues tal vez necesite de tu oración

Si quieres hablar conmigo habla con dios y yo te escuchare

Espero estar con el lo suficiente para continuar siendo util para ti

Donde quiera que me encuentre

Y si quieres escribir algo de mí

Ojalaras decir solo una frase

Fue mi todo, creyó en mí y me adoro

Ahí entonces derrama una lágrima

Yo no estaré presente para enjugarla pero no hace falta

Pues tal vez alguien lo hará en mi lugar

Y viéndome bien sustituido

Iré a atender mi nueva tarea en el cielo

Pero de vez en cuando, da una escapadita hacia dios

Seguramente no me veras pero yo estaré muy feliz viéndote a ti

Mirando hacia el

Crees en estas cosas,

Entonces reza para que los dos vivamos como quien sabe que va a morir un dia

Y que podamos morir como quien supo vivir bien

Si muero antes que tu creo que nada vos a extrañar

Por que sabes algo

Tenerte a ti ya era como tener un pedacito de cielo.

Fin 

Mike is the boss !

Marvin is no different than Coslett or Lebeau or Shula.  He is just like you, an employee. 

Power ?  No, he is powerless.  He can suggest, but has no final say.

In the end, it's Mike's team.  Always has been.  Always will be.

The clock is now ticking.  In reality, it was the day he was hired.  If he stays in Cincy too long, will it be tougher for him to get a job somewhere else as a head coach ?

You can blame the owner if you get fired after 2 or 3 years and it looks like you have it together.  But, after 6 ?

He was so angry having to talk to the media and trying to explain that he didn't want Henry back, and that in the end it's all Mike's call.

Chris Henry is a lucky man.  Where else in America would you get any more chances than you do in sports ?

You hope he has learned his lesson.  If he hasn't, he's the dumbest man in Ohio.

Remember, Mike WANTS TO WIN.   But he wants to win his way.  Or, you have to take the highway.

7:30 this morning we will play the press conferences of Marvin and his dear friend Chris Henry.  Listen to the tone of their voices.

In 2005 I had already made the decision to get the hell out of the city during the Olympics. In the event, I managed to do it two years early and hopped on a train and went south to start a new life. In the final lead up to the opening ceremony I had contemplated taking a train back to the capital for the day to observe the chaos, but when it came down to it, I really couldn’t be bothered.

I think the problem isthat if you live in China, then no matter where you turn, there is something to remind you that in 3 days, 13 hours and 23.33s the games will begin. I did catch the final lighting of the torch, but only because I was at a friend’s house and they happened to have the television on. Oh yeah, and I caught the last 30s of the women’s road race, and some rowing event when I was waiting for a flight at Shenzhen. I don’t know what event it was, but China got gold, UK got silver. It was a pity because until the last 50m I was relishing the opportunity to turn and give the Chinese passengers who had gathered there a couple of V signs. As it turned out I was reduced to polite applause and exchanging smiles. Who says I can’t be diplomatic.

I have really tried to get excited by the UK medal haul, when another bloke in a boat began to blub when he got gold, instead of being moved to tears, I merely found myself wondering whether he was going to forget himself and blow his nose on the Union Jack. And when I read Michael Phelps ate three fried egg sandwiches for breakfast, I looked down at the fried egg sandwich in my hand and tried to seek some inspiration, but instead I returned to the sofa and resumed watching “Casino Royale”

So yesterday evening, when I went to the DVD store to see what else was on offer I had pretty much resigned myself to Olympic Burnout, a variation on Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or Repetitive Stress Injury.

Inside, everyone was crowded around a small TV and animatedly discussing the volleyball match that was taking place between China and Russia. The Russians were muscular, serious and blonde, pausing only to discuss tactics with dour expressions. The Chinese, were (mostly) thin, dark haired, and f uckme, if they weren’t laughing when they won a point. They actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was contagious. The Chinese won a point, the players laughed, the crowd in the auditorium cheered and waved those weird foam things they hand out to the audience, and the people in the DVD stored laughed and cheered and punched the air. I found myself getting hooked and stayed until China had won the second set.

As I rode off down the street and headed home, new releases held tightly in my sweaty little palm, I realized everyone was watching. There were TV sets set out on the street at suitable intervals with small gatherings animatedly discussing the game and cheering or emitting cries of agony according to the outcome of the point. Drivers had pulled up and were leaning against their car and following the event.

I stopped at the small snack place on my street where a group of people were noisily consuming watermelon and following the game on a beaten up set. I asked the score and suddenly everyone was inviting me to sit down and join them. Someone offered me a beer.

I think this is something that all these top notch reporters who have been specially flown in to cover the event are missing. They can wander around the Olympic village all they want, comment on the empty seats in the arena and the absence of anyone in the courtesy tents or the protest arena, bitch about the faked fireworks and the ugly kid who sang the anthem. It all makes for great journalism but the truth is that for the everyday person the Olympics is merely a chance to hang out with friends and watch the game, same as Superbowl Sunday or the FA Cup Final.

Maybe that’s what London needs to do. Just have a small barbeque for the Olympic flame (just don’t forget to periodically top up the charcoal) and pass out free cans of beers at the lighting ceremony. It will cost a lot less money, but I think most people won’t give a shit either way.