Pop Went the Weasals

[Isabella Maldini]

Victory by pinfall?

Nah, too over done.

Victory by submission?

Exciting, but not exciting enough.

Victory by lingerie?

Well, I don’t mind if I do.

Honestly, last week I was in my element and if that makes me a slut to some then, hey, perhaps if they expressed themselves more sexually they wouldn’t feel the rage building when they see a girl in her panties on the television and feel something much more…

Explosive.

I know I have my critics, but honestly, it is nothing new. You’ve gotta learn to develop a pretty thick hide in life when you exploit men’s weaknesses like I do. Here’s a newsflash, girls, really, really don’t like it when you milk their men for far more effectively than they ever could

And I am talking in a purely fiscal sense.

Well, mostly.

Life has handed me a few lemons, probably enough to found my own 7Up factory by now, but I’d never sat and cried about it. Sometimes you fail, but you’ve gotta pick yourself up and exploit whatever opportunities come your way to make up for it.

Last week I did just that.

Thanks to the, unorthodox, methods employed by our resident censors, fate presented me a second chance to make amends for my mistakes on my debut and I took it.

I learnt when my parents died that you can’t rest on your laurels if you want to survive and in this business, when you’re down on our luck, you can either get down on your knees or take whatever opportunity comes your way.

I prefer the latter.

My masked plaything has his uses, but I still have my professional pride and he isn’t always the solution to every problem. Last week was one, but now I’ve solved that conundrum I can’t just lay back and think of Italy, I need to take another step forward.

I want the IWF Diamond’s Championship.

This week I have an opportunity to get points on the board and to rise above the pack and I plan to do it alone. I am a survivor, if I can survive the mafia, I think I can handle Kat Conway and Emma Danielson.

I only hope I can survive Eternity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve had stranger weeks but quite honestly teaming up to form Team Parental Issues with the long lost Addam’s daughter against Kathy the Whack-a-doodle and the Hardcore Harlot ranks amongst the weirdest in my short lifespan thus far.

A close second to my weekend in Prague which will remain, for my modesty, a secret for the purposes of this oratorical piece.

So, where do I begin?

Do I start with the Devil’s Favourite Doll or do I move right onto repulsing the critiques of the Blood Diamonds who ironically only ever perform once a month. I guess in honour of her scatter brained dialogue I’ll just flip this on its head and address the subject everybody is so concerned about.

What am I wearing this week?

Let’s just say it blows last week’s little number out of the water, but that’s for your imagination to concern itself with, it’ll take a little bit more than charming the moustached snaked this week, although I’ve gotta say Kathy, the Conway Spitting Cobra has lost it’s venom these days.

Such a shame for all of us ladies looking to make it in the business, you must be pretty secure to let us shake our little tushes in his face for ratings.

As for you, Machado, please stop calling me.

Immediately.

Or I’ll press charges.

So, this week it seems that the beast must trump the beauty, but that’s OK, underneath the hood there’s still the engine of a ring technician with the devil by her side, the Reed Clan may have screwed me out of my first competitive match, but the bimbo’s are thankfully locked away elsewhere this week. Now it is time to prove myself as more than a pair of breasts and a cute little smile by laying out the woman whose had an unhealthy obsession with Jake Conway…

Or his wife.

I’ve gotta say, you’ve done a sterling job, Kathleen. I mean, all you need to do is click those fingers, suck an ice lolly in just the right way or pop on a pair of suspenders and you have one of the most sadistic men in the wrestling business rolling on his back begging you to play doctor. From one temptress to another, you’ve got him wrapped around that little finger of yours like an expert…

Only… haven’t you milked the Conway cow dry yet? Why are you still taking him out to pasture? Is it the panties from the Italian Stallion’s treasure chest or have you…

Succumbed to emotions? Given in to your base humanity? Offered yourself on a sacrificial platter to Aphrodite?

Ugh, and just when I was beginning to really respect you.

Don’t you see Kathy? Your greatest strength is your weakness. You’ve put all your ovaries in one basket and backed the oldest nag in the business, praying that the leopard has retired his spots for good. You’ve invested emotionally in your conquest, Kathleen, and girl, it’s going to come back to haunt you. You’ve been thinking with your heart instead of your head, you’ve put everything into this relationship, built yourself up to be dependent upon on it…

What are you going to do when your rock crumbles? United you stand, but when the eye doth wander, divided you won’t just fall…

You’ll take each other down and anybody else who happens to get caught in the blast radius. Trust me, I wouldn’t wanna be at that ground zero, it’ll make Hiroshima look like a firecracker.

But hey, you don’t have to take my advice, after all I am sure there’s some sort of benefit to placing your entire existence in a collective pot with your partner, if self-destruction is what gets you off then you go girl. I’ll give you credit, it’s been great to finally see you stop playing the Ace’s accessory who just wrestles for the sake of it, it’s refreshing to see a fire burnt underneath you.

And that’s what is dangerous this week.

I could pick away at your weak spot, but since his lucrative funding is currently in intensive care in Chicago, I’m going to have to stick to the good old fashioned laying you flat on that little ass of yours. Then, sometimes the old ways are always the best. I know what you can do Kat, I’ve studied you for years, that’s why I know your greatest strength is your most destructive weakness, but I also know how you tick inside that ring. When you’re focused on victory, you’re dangerous, when your head is in the inevitable coitus later that evening; you go down quicker than a cheerleader on prom night.

That’s the problem with being a professional idol, one day an idolater will rise to consume you.

Now, from the current apple of Jacob’s eye, to the pear which went rotten a little while back.

E, I honestly don’t see you in the same light as Ayla or Alysson, quite frankly I don’t think you’re as uptight as either of them and you sure as hell aren’t as paranoid. You appear to be above finding problems with your workplace for the simple sake of playing the rebel, so, kudos, their conspiracy theories haven’t rubbed off on you.

Although come to think of it, when was the last time anything did?

A little below the belt? Oh, I’m sorry E, I know it’s been a long time. I mean it must have been for you to spend a good month lusting after your tag team partner’s wrinkled old prune, and no that isn’t a euphemism for what she’s hiding in those tights. Though it does say an awful lot to how mature you both really are that you seem to be able to work past that really potentially awkward situation in such an adult manner.

Girl power and all that.

Listen tush, I get it, you like to fight, you just wanna get in the ring, do your thing and then leave again, that’s real sweet and all but you’re going to need to do better than that to overcome the obstacle in your way this week. A few cute little soundbites aint going to cut it, I mean I’ve heard them all before from even bigger girls than you, it really doesn’t translate to anything more than a vain attempt to appear professional yet intimidating.

Yawn.

We get it, you’re tough but you have the charisma of Eternity’s Dad’s clientele. You just like to throw your considerable weight around and drink a few beers, which probably explains why you’re permanently single. When you’re all brawn, no brains, you can only go so far. You see, E, I can hold my own in there and sure, I’ll get my ass kicked, but the thing is there’s more knots to this bow, I have my seven foot insurance policy for particularly stubborn problems and my insatiable… charm to melt even the most faithful of men.

What have you got? Andrew Jacobsen on speed dial and a six pack in your mini-fridge.

Paint me green with envy.

Last week I proved I’ll do anything it takes to get a shot at my name in lights, whether it is parade around in my unmentionables or have my friend chokeslam the COO through a stage. Nothing is off limits.

As for my mis-matched comrade for the week?

You’re a crazy chick, Eternity. And I can dig crazy. It’s the sane one’s you need to look out for. Quite honestly, if you wrestle like you talk, these two haven’t got a hope in hell of keeping on top of you, although I have to admit, I pity whoever has done that in the past. I’m not sure they’ll have ever lived to tell the tale.

You and I both have the same objectives this week, if you can keep your head in the game and whip out any parlour tricks to get us over the finishing line.

Go nuts.

Turn off the lights, shoot lightening out of your fingertips, summon the dead…

Just do me a favour, OK? Let me stock up on firearms if you choose the latter. If I’ve learnt anything from horror films, it’s always the pretty ones who go first.

And teach me how you do it, it might come in handy later…