The Royal Rumble happened last night. I assume you all put your lives on hold to watch it for all 5 hours, plus the 2-hour pre-show, but just in case you are lucky enough to have no idea what the Royal Rumble even is, I will tell you. It’s a WWE event (for those who don’t know what that is, you are also very lucky) where one person starts in the ring, then every 90 seconds a new person comes in until 30 wrestlers have been called. Wrestlers are out when they’re flipped over the top ring and both feet touch the floor.
So. We had a bunch of Vincenzo’s over to watch it. Actually, we only had 3 of Vincenzo’s friends over but they have all gotten so big, it feels like a lot of kids and our furniture seems suddenly like toy furniture. The women Rumbled first and there were, as always, many shenanigans. Zalena Vega didn’t go into the ring on her turn; she hid underneath it until a leprechaun named Hornswaggle chased her out. One wrestler was thrown over the rope, kept her feet off the ground, then hand-walked her way back into the ring. The Ravishing Russian Lana had been fake injured in an earlier match and limped down the aisle very slowly, which is a dirty move because the later you get into the ring the better chance you have. Then Becky went in the ring instead of her…and won the whole thing.
The boys got totally into it, yelling at the TV and at each other and at the TV again. I spent the evening cooking food, refilling drinks, and cleaning up dishes while everyone yelled, “OH MAN’ and, “NO SHE DIDN’T!” It was all good fun until one of the boys started calling the wrestlers the B word and yelling, “STRIPPER!”, at which point the collective voice of all females past and present stood up and stopped the party. It was my turn to yell. “Can we all stop calling women those names? It’s demoralizing and degrading. Girls are people too! We wear pants! We run for president! When we get thrown out of the ring, we handwalk our way back in and keep fighting! I shaved my chin last week!” Then I went back to cooking and refilling and cleaning, and it wasn’t until the next day that I realized how mad I was about it all. Discussions were had. E-mails were sent. Young boys were given lessons on women’s lib. Peace and order has been restored. Women everywhere can return to making $.70 to every man’s dollar and being being underrepresented in government and not being given promotions we deserve.
All that being settled, this morning Leo said, “Let’s play Royal Rumble!” The rule was: stay on the shag rug. Leo started, Kevin went in, Rocco went in, then I started down the hallway. Halfway there, I fell down in agonizing pain and rolled around grabbing my knee and moaning. Rocco and Leo were genuinely concerned. They made their way to the very edge of the carpet and stood there like with big, concerned eyes and asked if I was okay or if I was faking it. I alternately cried out and laughed, and eventually the boys couldn’t stand seeing me in pain anymore and urgently rushed to my side, at which point I stood up, miraculously healed, and yelled, “YOU LOSE! I WIN! NANA NANA BOO BO STICK YOUR HEAD IN DOO DOO SUCKAS!”
But wow, did that feel bad. Their concern was so genuine, their want to make me better so strong, and I’ll forever remember the worried looks on their faces as I writhed in pain. I now know my boys would save me from the jaws of a lion, should I find myself in such a position. So I let them back on the carpet, apologized, and they promptly kicked me off the carpet and declared themselves the winners.
You know, I’m not so sure about that “jaws of the lion” thing after all. Those dirty rats! They somehow planned this whole thing! They abused my motherly love! They trod on my sense of right and wrong! I declare a rematch! I was robbed of the title that was rightly mine!
The next Royal Rumble is only 364 days away. I’ve already cleared my schedule. Watch out, 2020, I’M COMING FOR YOU!
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Mac ‘n cheese