Every Monday night my husband assumes his place on the couch. He flips the television to USA network, and gets engrossed in the fake boobs and even more fake storylines of Monday Night Raw. He suffers through my programs on other nights of the week, so I don’t begrudge him the cheesetasticness that is WWE.
Tonight was no different. His place on the couch was assumed. USA network was tuned in, and bad wrestler theme songs were oozing from the television. Little did I know that a routine Monday night would send me giggling down Memory Lane.
In tonight’s riveting episode of Monday Night Raw a certain wrestler came running out to his (extremely long and tedious) entrance music. He worked the crowd. He struck a pose against the ropes that forced the viewer to take notice of black-trunk-clad crotch.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet the man who inadvertently induced my memory lane trip . . . Mr. Finn Balor.
As he was seductively spread across the ropes of the ring I was immediately reminded of a now-deceased rock star who should need no introduction . . .
But the reminiscence was not just any Freddie Mercury. It was Freddie Mercury specifically from the video for “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”
And that is how it started.
Next thing I knew I was falling down the rabbit hole of music videos . . . songs that I had not seen in forever.
We will, we will ROCK YOU! (A glorious earworm if there ever was one.)
And because you can’t have one without the other . . .
That made Memory Lane take a Journey through Kansas and Boston
My trip was not predominantly rooted in the 70’s though. Again Youtube thought it I would enjoy rehashing my mallhair era . . .
I’m the one in the blue sweater with the Albert Einstein hair. My hair LOVED perms and Rave hairspray. I just realized that I looked like many of the lead singers of the bands that I adored from that time. Bon Jovi, Warrant, and of course . . .
And let’s not forget my favorite song off the Hysteria album (still one of the greatest albums of all time).
And lest we forget their contribution to my first break-up . . .
which, of course, led me to the first “our” song I had with my first “real” boyfriend . . .
Tell me I’m not the only one that only recently realized that “Fly To The Angels” is written about a woman who dies. And this was “our” song when I was 14 years old. He wrote me out the lyrics and made me a mixtape. It was so romantic to my little 14-year-old mind.
All of this because a wrestler with aspirations of being Freddie Mercury lounged seductively across the ring ropes on WWE tonight.
Until next time . . .