It is time that we go on a little journey. We are going into the past, to recount my life as a sports entertainment fanatic.

It all started when I was quite young. My sister Staci (for reasons unbeknownst to me) became a huge wrestling fan at a pretty young age. Being her bratty younger sister, I secretly wanted to be just like her, but made it out like I was trying to copy her and annoy her. We used to stay up late and watch the satellite feed (Westar 4, Channel 18) that broadcasted WCCW...World Class Championship Wrestling, featuring the VonErichs, the Freebirds, and my favorite referee of all time: David Manning.

Soon we (really Staci, with me being her shadow) became interested in another wrestling alliance based out of Atlanta, the NWA. Each week from the Omni, Tony Schiavone would call the matches of people like the Road Warriors, the Four Horseman, the Mulkey Brothers, Sting, the Steiner Brothers, the Midnight Rockers, and Staci's all-time favorite (she even had a larger than life-size poster of them in her room) the Rock'N'Roll Express. (She and her friend Sissy Hickey would for some reason dream of how Staci would grow up and one day marry Ricky Morton.)

My dad used to take us to the wrestling matches in Amarillo. I don't remember much of it. I remember Peggy Gatlin being there one time. And I remember the one time that me, Staci, Dad, and Larry Alford went together. Daddy went away for a while and came back with a cup of beverage. I remember saying, "Daddy, I'm thirsty. Can I have a dwink?" And he said no. "How come? What is that?" "It's Kool-Aid." Then I remember Dad and Larry Alford talking smack to Slick Rick, and how he came over and threatened us and I was so thrilled and excited.

I remember Staci coming home after the wrestling matches where she got to touch Kerry VonErich. She swore to never wash her hand again, and I think she really did last a few days! I also remember her coming back from the night she met Ric Flair and got his autograph. She reeked of his aftershave. His autograph said, "Burt wubbs, rick flakai," but I think he meant to say, "Best wishes, Ric Flair." And I also remember the night that Staci touched the Road Warrior Hawk. *wink, wink* Do you remember that, Staci? Hahahahahahah! I won't tell. Well, on here anyway.

It seems like the WWF was around at this time, but the general consensus around our house was that the WWF was too gay, too flamboyant. We wanted to see the down-n-dirty real grappler stuff, not some faggy guy wearing feather boas. (Well, unless you were Gorgeous Jimmy Garvin.) But I do vaguely remember Wrestlemania I. Or III. Whichever one it was. We tried to watch it on the satellite, but the picture was scrambled, but there was sound, so we sat and listened to it. I seriously remember being able to make out Hulk Hogan bodyslamming Andre the Giant.

But we slowly got sucked into the WWF. This is the time of my life (ages 6-11) that I don't really remember much. But I do remember liking the Honky Tonk Man a lot. And I remember hating the Iron Sheik. And I remember the first time I saw the Undertaker, I almost peed my pants he scared me so bad. And I remember my dad thinking that Elizabeth was just the most beautiful thing in the world.

Once Staci left home, I pretty much lost interest in the whole thing. I would watch it every now and then, but usually not. I remember watching it with Dad once, and all he could say was how much the Undertaker looked like the devil, and then he fell asleep.

However, once I moved away for college and got free cable in the dorm, all that changed. Jason Bunch and Jeremy Red would watch RAW is WAR every Monday in the community room. They loved Golddust so much. There was even this guy named Swampy and they started calling him Swampdust.

I remember the episode that brought me back, safe into the bosom of sports entertainment. It was the time that Stone Cold Steve Austin beat the shit out of Bret Hart. They had Bret all laid up on the gurney, and wheeled him out to the awaiting ambulance. Whoa! Turns out Stone Cold was the ambulance driver, and he proceeded to fucking pummel the fuck out of Bret while he was strapped to that gurney and couldn't protect himself. I thought it was so awesome. And when I saw Mankind...I knew it was time to go back to being a full-time fan.

Mankind was a brilliant gimmick. Usually wrestlers are so cocky and they come out to the ring, begging for attention and climbing up on the ropes. Not Mick. He would come out there with his one ear, and sit Indian style in the corner of the ring, and just rock back and forth, like he was crazy. That one interview he did with Jim Ross, talking about how he ate worms and girls never liked him...pure brilliance.

Since Staci and I lived near Dallas, we started taking advantage of the many opportunities to see live WWF events. One time, in 1997, I believe, the WWF was doing a house show in Fort Worth.....and oh my GOD!!! Mick Foley was scheduled to make an appearance at the Paintball/Haunted House place. Oh my god, I was so scared and nervous and excited and thrilled. I didn't know how to show him how great I thought he was, and I didn't want him to think I was coming on to him, but I had to let him know something, so I put some labels on my shirt and made it say "I Love Mankind." See? I love this picture because it kind of looks like me and Mick are old buds. For the record, he had on sweats and a fanny pack.

Staci got her picture taken, too. This picture is rad because he's trying to look all tough, and Staci just looks as cute as can be, as usual.

Later that year, Staci and I discovered that they were going to do a RAW taping at Reunion Arena!!!!!!! AHHHHH!!! We were going to be on TV!!! Usually we didn't bother with the signs, but this was important. I made 4.

1. One that was just a dumb quotation bubble and said hi to all our friends.
2. One that said "Malibu Days and Big Bear Nights," which is a porn movie that Shawn Michaels starred in.
3. One that said "HBK" in huge gold letters down the side, and I made it stand for "Hickenbottom Blows Kock!!"
4. The best one, a picture of Bret Hart on a milk carton, saying that he was missing. (This was soon after the Survivor Series where that stupid fucking bastard Vince McMahon screwed Bret in Montreal.) It said "Missing: Bret Hart. Height: 5'11". Weight: 243. Last seen: Kicking Shawn Micheals' Ass!"

Then in 1998, Staci had a brilliant idea. She discovered the Wrestle Vessel. You get to go on a cruise with WWF Superstars!! We both kind of thought the whole thing was really dumb, but dumb enough that it was really pretty cool. So...we went. I had to miss a whole week of school, and I never heard the end of it at work...but it was so worth it.

They had a special event each day. The first day was the autograph session. We met in this auditorium type room, and all the WWFers were sitting at this long table across the stage. Staci and I were kind of late, and that particular day I had decided to wear my "Hot Rod!" shirt with my red plaid skirt. When I walked in, the most wonderful thing happened.

Thrasher started yelling at me!!! He was so offended that I wore an old-school shirt, he started making fun of me and telling the security people to have me escorted out of there. Mick said, "Wow, she's been a fan a long time." HHH, "I can't believe the fabric held together that long." I was so overwhelmed...I didn't know what to do....so I did the stupidest thing possible. I gave a DX crotch chop to Thrasher. God, why did I do that? When we went up in line, Thrasher looked at me with a sad face and said, "Now why in the world would you wear something like that here?" Again, I do not do well under pressure, and I said something like, "Well, if you'd give me a free Headbangers shirt, I'd be happy to wear it." Duh-huh. Good one, Halee. But I was now officially in love with Thrasher.

The next day was the question and answer session. It was very much dominated by EPK. EPK was this little kid that was really goofy and he turned up EVERYWHERE. He had an eyepatch. So like the Heart Break Kid Shawn Michaels refers to himself as HBK, we started calling this kid EPK:

He asked stuff like, "So Hunter, I heard you were like really, really rich and that you grew up in a castle in Connecticut. Is that true?"

The next afternoon was the volleyball tournament. Um, it is safe to say that the WWF superstars won by a lot. I don't really remember much except that Thrasher never shuts up. Ever. And that they all have really tiny little legs. It was here on Disney's privately owned island, Castaway Cay, that Staci met Mosh.

That was actually really cool because Mick Foley and his wife and two kids set up camp near us on the beach. It was so cool to see this big huge menacing character...getting onto his son, and having to count, "Now Dewey, that's it...one, two, three..."

Later that evening was the cocktail party, which was by far the coolest part, with the most picture taking opportunities. Ken Shamrock had on a very shiny, silvery shirt, and he was cool about getting his picture taken. He is very large.

A bit later, we found Mick Foley sitting around, being all nice to everyone. He was wearing a nice button down shirt...and sweats. On the night we ate in the super nice dining room, he had on a torn t-shirt, sweats, old high tops, and a blazer. Anyway, here's us with him. Again, the picture of me and him makes it look like we're old bowling buddies or something. I think we have some sort of connection.

Later I managed to catch Moshie at the bar, and I wanted to make sure I had a photo with him because I didn't get one at the beach when Staci did. It looks like he is molesting me in this photo.

When Thrasher came into the bar, I immediately set my sights on him because I had been trying to talk smack with him all week. By this point I've had quite a bit of free champagne, so I am not really very shy, and pretty vocal on where he needs to stand for the picture.

After his picture with Staci, I beg him to let me put him in a headlock. So this, right here, is possibly the greatest moment of my life. This, right here, is my most valued picture of all...me putting Thrasher in a headlock. (It is safe to say, as a result of this trip, I developed a severe crush on Thrasher. I also learned one of the many secrets of pro-wrestling: why all wrestlers wear fanny packs. There was enough champagne inside me to have the balls to ask Thrasher that. His reply was worth it: "You know how school age boys always carry their notebooks in front of them? Same reason."

And here, is quite possibly the greatest picture of me ever taken. Do you remember just a second ago when I said that was my most valued picture? Lie. This one is. Everyone else who had their pictures taken on picture day tried to look really nice and go sit up there and have a nice smile, but fuck that! I went up there and snarled and fucking flexed my muscles!! Note: Thrasher thinks I am a dumbass, Hunter is an asshole, and Sable is not amused.

THE END

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