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Stupid Image Host. Archives have broken links.
2001-12-11 - 2:45 p.m.
I'm halfway to 31. I'm looking at upping my wrestling schedule to a minimum of 4 matches a month, and practices/gym 2x a week. This will bring me up to where I want to be condition-wise to be able to have zero excuses as to why I'm not getting put in the best angles/matches I am capable of being booked in. There is no excuse for not doing my best. I don't mind being less talented or packaged than other workers. That's just the way it goes...someone's always going to be better, and bigger. What bothers me is when I fail to meet my personal potential and expectations.
"The Gauntlet" Luciano Bonetti pushes me back against the ropes in our match for CWF. 
The way I figure it, I have around five more solid years of being able to work the type of wrestling matches I'm in now..and if I want to continue in this business, I will have to adjust my style, and more than likely my schedule and expectations. The Bug reels from the devestating chops laid in by Bonetti 
My friends think it's a joke, for the most part. Some find it unbelievable, and nearly all of them thought I was lying when I said I was becoming a professional wrestler. It's just absurd if you know me. It makes perfect sense if you REALLY know me, though. It's not like this was all I ever wanted to do. Far from it... I never even gave it much thought (seriously) until I happened to do a search for wrestling on the web, trying to find some local shows that the wwf was running in Orlando, and ended up finding some indy news sites.. The Bug positions himself to apply some serious pressure via the Fujiwar armbar, pressing for the submission 
I was so fat then...I had no idea that it would be the hardest thing I'd ever tried. None. We'd be doing cardio, and what they call Bull of the Ring, where you'd form a line, and one guy would be in the center, of the ring, feeding and bumping for the other guys one after another, spot after spot, until you felt your head and chest would explode, fighting for every breath. There were times when I thought I'd make it, but they were few and far between. Mostly I'd say hang on, excuse myself to the bathroom, which was open and exposed from where the ring was, and simply lean over the toilet and throw up everything I'd eaten for lunch, every bit of water and probably alot of the supplements that I was stuffing into my body in hopes of dropping weight and gaining muscle.... Draped across the middle rope, Bonetti prepares to drop the leg again... 
But we all know how this one ends up...haha italians are stupid! (joke) (not really) 
My body would be so bruised and battered , and I'd drive from the coast, another 2 hours in the car back home, wondering just what the hell I was doing. I never gave up. I'm about 195 now...and I'm still not at the weight I want to be. I will be though. This is my year. 2002. Or at least I'll get a tan, or something. I just don't like how you can see my big white ass. I want to airbrush a tight muscular ass into this photo, but I can't be bothered. 
I said I'd quit when I was on TV...well we're on tv 2x a week in over 150k homes....but I guess I lied, because I'm not ready to quit. Maybe I'll quit when I get one of those big ass wrestling belts with gold and whatnot all over it, saying CHAMPION. yeah.
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