I would like to apologize for inadvertently causing a rift in this week’s voting for the Sexy Wrestler of The Week. I’ll now explain what happened…

It was any other Saturday night and I decided I needed to have some spaghetti. I wanted a whole lot of it. I had forgotten to eat the day before and was too busy to have lunch. I was starving. I had to hide my tears from important people in my life. It was that bad.

I decided I would treat myself to a nice spaghetti outing at a sports bar in a town close by. I traveled thirty minutes to this place with an indescribable amount of joy in my heart. I finally arrived and had a seat at a table with a curious little marking on the white cloth. It looked like someone had drawn a banana or some sort of elongated veggie on it. The waiter asked me what I would like to “chow upon.” I blurted out “SPAGHETTI MAN” embarrassingly loud but he got the picture.

“We’re out of spaghetti, dude.”

I was stunned. I was about to lose my mind in that place and there was no stopping myself. I was fixing to have a very shameful experience.

“Just kidding. That’s a little joke that I like to say about food sometimes,” he responded happily.

That was just too much. What was this guy getting at? Why would you be such a weirdo? That night was rough. It was sandpaper.

He finally left after babbling on about how they make the sauce. I had to use the restroom so I went to the restroom and then I came out of the restroom after I used the restroom. It was a typical journey to the restroom… besides the group of guys who had to be in their late twenties wearing high school letterman jackets, smoking cigarettes, and arguing drunkenly about whether Ren and Stimpy originated the fart joke.

I sat back down and there it was. A smoking pile of spaghetti at my table. Ready to be “chowed upon.” Sports were being played on the big screen behind me. I didn’t care. I had everything I needed right in front of me. I began to become some sort of fat animal. The type you hear about living on farms, zoos, or in the wild. I was ravaging this spaghetti and I didn’t care who saw me. This was my escape.

Photo: A screenshot of me eating the spaghetti. I always film myself with a very old VHS camcorder

As I was in a spaghetti-induced ecstasy, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see the bros from the bathroom.

“Hey, chump! Why are you eating my ‘sghetti?” This was loud and made the whole place get quiet. Continue reading →