There’s usually some sort of bustle on the floor in my dorm on Monday nights. My roommate’s focus is Top Chef, while my friend Allison used to be utterly devoted to Prison Break (she dropped it in favor of Pushing Daisies, which should be back soon!). Heroes used to be playing in at least three rooms on our meager 9-room floor. But my girlfriend and I, from 9 until about 11 (sometimes 11:05 or even 11:10), are otherwise occupied. All year ‘round. What on earth could we be watching that doesn’t end the season at some point?

Wrestling. Monday Night Raw, specifically.

I used to watch wrestling and play the games with my cousin. I didn’t really get into it a whole lot; I though everyone looked kind of weird, aside from that Shawn Michaels dude. Okay, he was kind of weird too, but not like Hulk Hogan weird. I liked The Rock, too; he made me laugh. But I didn’t watch anything regularly. I only watched it with my cousin when I was over at his house and it was on, or he wanted to show me a VHS (throwback!) or something similar. My mom HATED wrestling and wouldn’t let me watch it at home, even if I wanted to.

I dropped out of the WWE (then WWF, but changed because the real WWF threw a hissy fit. I still think it’s be great to throw the Rock and a panda in a steel cage match together) for a pretty long time once I stopped hanging with my cousin. It wasn’t until I came to college that the girl who was then just my good friend somehow managed to get me to watch Raw. Read More »