Hardway Finance Part 1
Recently, I started listening to a finance-themed podcast that basically stole people’s finance blogs and read them out loud. It’s kind of what motivated me to write this short series of blogs on my own history and experience with personal finance. The reason I am calling this “hardway” is its use as a slang term in pro wrestling. Doing something hardway basically means hurting yourself legitimately. For instance, getting a black eye from a punch in the face, or breaking one’s nose from a big fall or kick in the face would be getting those injuries “hardway.” Ideally, they intend not to get hurt. I’m not a pro wrestler or in the industry at all, but as a hardcore fan, the term has been introduced to me that way. As you will see, it’s a fairly descriptive way to name my blog.
Around the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009, I was starting to get serious about making the big jump from renting to owning. The problem was, I had too much personal debt to make it work with the income I had. At that point, I was in school (again) for engineering and spent my weekends going to independent professional wrestling shows. To give you some idea of my situation, I had a brand new car that I had leased, substantial student loans from my business school education, and easily spent over $100 every weekend on wrestling. At least once, I had attended three shows in three different states in one weekend. Wrestlers actually recognized me. I’ve met at least a couple guys who ended up being a champion in WWE, but before they were even on the WWE’s radar. To me, that’s cool.
What getting a house meant, though, was that I needed to get rid of my debts and get money at the very least for the fees and down payment required to get a mortgage. In order to do that in a reasonable amount of time meant raising my income. To raise my income, I started doing overtime at work. So, in 2009, with the exception of the very last week of the year and one other day, I was in the factory every day for 10 hours. Conveniently for me, they were quite busy, but not busy enough to pay extra for me to work on holidays. So, I worked every day, and I poured the vast majority of that money into three places. I paid off my car lease early, I paid down $20,000 of my student loans, and I put the rest into savings bonds and a Scottrade account with stocks that I chose myself.
Every Friday, I would go to a restaurant in town and have a steak dinner after work. I had made it to first shift just the year before, and felt as though I should do something on Friday nights since the option was now available. Reading that last paragraph, it seems inconceivable that I was able to do as much as I did with what I had. The car lease was at least $14,000 plus interest. $20,000 towards my student loans, and I think that my Scottrade balance was roughly $10,000. Much of that was gains, though. If a stock didn’t double while I owned it, it tripled. Not everything, but much of it. I didn’t lose on anything.
That’s what I was able to accomplish in one year. Every day, I would get up early and start work at 5am and work until 3pm, or a little later in order to do a report. Given a few more months, I was able to save up the payoff for my car and buy it outright. From this excellent position, I was to make some decisions that you will learn about in part two.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Hardway Finance Part 2
Hardway Finance Part 2
In part one of Hardway Finance, I explained the amazing year of 2009 where I was able to make significant headway towards my goal of getting a house. By the end of the year, I was on a split course, considering either having a house built, or buying one.
I was interested in energy efficiency, and found a local builder who specialized in building energy efficient homes. I spoke to him and took a tour of one of the houses that he built. I was also speaking to a man who was making blueprints for the house of my dreams, which was actually quite small, and would fit on some land that my grandfather was going to give me as a gift to get things rolling. I had also signed up to be on the list for having a house built by the high school building trades class. All of those options would spin wildly until one day when I would make a very important and expensive decision. A decision that would destroy all of the hard work that I had done the previous year and put me into a wildly unreasonable amount of debt.
Remember the builder I mentioned in the previous paragraph? Well, he was hot to sell the house that he showed me because he had put a substantial amount of money into building it. Because of the financial crisis which was centered in housing, his income had dried up. Long story short, I had the option of buying the house he showed me, fully furnished, or have my house built by building trades, but not furnished, for roughly the same price per square foot. I chose the former, since it was quicker and I got a fully furnished house (furniture and high end appliances) thrown in for free. I also got a $30,000 theater room for only $6,000.
I remember the day that the builder and I negotiated for the house. I think the asking price for the house on realty websites at the time had been around $375,000 but we settled for $225,000 plus $6,000 for the theater room, and he was taking the TV in the living room for his kid. I remember thinking that it was a lot of money, but also an amazing deal. I set up meetings with a couple of mortgage companies that had been referred to me, one of which was interested in the deal.
This is where it starts to get insane. This is where logic and reason started going out the window. The mortgage broker set up a meeting at her office with the both of us. She explained it this way; I only qualified for a $206,000 mortgage. In order for things to move forward, the seller would have to bend even further.
(Insert dramatic pause here)
Quickly, yet at the same time with great hesitation, the builder agreed to the banker’s terms. The bank had just negotiated the price down for me. I took this as a good sign. I was not being represented by a realtor, which thinking back, was absolutely insane. It ended up working out for me. The seller’s business partner was a realtor, and he did all of the paperwork at no charge to me. I also took this as a good sign, thinking that I had saved the common 7% sales commission. My understanding is that the builder took out a substantial portion of his 401k to pay off the difference between what I was paying and what he owed on the house. I also had to take out a 401k loan in order to get the last bit of money to make the deal happen. I took that to mean that I was getting the house for a substantial discount and an amazing value. What I got was taken to school.
In part one of Hardway Finance, I explained the amazing year of 2009 where I was able to make significant headway towards my goal of getting a house. By the end of the year, I was on a split course, considering either having a house built, or buying one.
I was interested in energy efficiency, and found a local builder who specialized in building energy efficient homes. I spoke to him and took a tour of one of the houses that he built. I was also speaking to a man who was making blueprints for the house of my dreams, which was actually quite small, and would fit on some land that my grandfather was going to give me as a gift to get things rolling. I had also signed up to be on the list for having a house built by the high school building trades class. All of those options would spin wildly until one day when I would make a very important and expensive decision. A decision that would destroy all of the hard work that I had done the previous year and put me into a wildly unreasonable amount of debt.
Remember the builder I mentioned in the previous paragraph? Well, he was hot to sell the house that he showed me because he had put a substantial amount of money into building it. Because of the financial crisis which was centered in housing, his income had dried up. Long story short, I had the option of buying the house he showed me, fully furnished, or have my house built by building trades, but not furnished, for roughly the same price per square foot. I chose the former, since it was quicker and I got a fully furnished house (furniture and high end appliances) thrown in for free. I also got a $30,000 theater room for only $6,000.
I remember the day that the builder and I negotiated for the house. I think the asking price for the house on realty websites at the time had been around $375,000 but we settled for $225,000 plus $6,000 for the theater room, and he was taking the TV in the living room for his kid. I remember thinking that it was a lot of money, but also an amazing deal. I set up meetings with a couple of mortgage companies that had been referred to me, one of which was interested in the deal.
This is where it starts to get insane. This is where logic and reason started going out the window. The mortgage broker set up a meeting at her office with the both of us. She explained it this way; I only qualified for a $206,000 mortgage. In order for things to move forward, the seller would have to bend even further.
(Insert dramatic pause here)
Quickly, yet at the same time with great hesitation, the builder agreed to the banker’s terms. The bank had just negotiated the price down for me. I took this as a good sign. I was not being represented by a realtor, which thinking back, was absolutely insane. It ended up working out for me. The seller’s business partner was a realtor, and he did all of the paperwork at no charge to me. I also took this as a good sign, thinking that I had saved the common 7% sales commission. My understanding is that the builder took out a substantial portion of his 401k to pay off the difference between what I was paying and what he owed on the house. I also had to take out a 401k loan in order to get the last bit of money to make the deal happen. I took that to mean that I was getting the house for a substantial discount and an amazing value. What I got was taken to school.
Hardway Finance Part 3
Hardway Finance Part 3
In the first two parts of this series, I described the process where I had buckled down to do what it took to get a mortgage for a house, then went out and did it.
The good parts-
No realtor fees.
Bank negotiated the price down for me.
It was $64/sq.ft. For a brand new, fully furnished house.
But wait a second. If you recall from part two, and just above, the bank negotiated the price down to the maximum amount that they felt that I could afford. They based that on my 2009 income, which was nearly the maximum it could possibly be. I remember this being a bit of a red flag for me, but that the broker assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem long-term because my salary would go up every year. I’d grow into it. At one point I remember joking with my friends at work that I had more overtime hours than I had regular time hours. They used to post everyone’s numbers, and if a certain amount of overtime participation was required but not fulfilled, they started at the bottom of that list mandating people. I was at the top.
From my understanding, the maximum amount allowed is 25% of your average monthly gross for the mortgage itself. Tacked onto that would be the monthly pull for taxes and insurance. In my case, I also had mortgage insurance since I put the least amount possible down. I had more money, but they refused to take it.
What it meant was that if I didn’t do any overtime, my monthly payment all in was roughly 75% of my take home pay without overtime. Add on top of that monthly utilities which were thankfully extremely low for a house that size. So, if there was no overtime, I was cool as long as I didn’t have to buy any food or gas that month.
Of course, now I was all in on overtime, with no real choice in the matter. I figured out that I needed at the very least to work every Saturday in order to make everything work. I had to make it work.
In the first two parts of this series, I described the process where I had buckled down to do what it took to get a mortgage for a house, then went out and did it.
The good parts-
No realtor fees.
Bank negotiated the price down for me.
It was $64/sq.ft. For a brand new, fully furnished house.
But wait a second. If you recall from part two, and just above, the bank negotiated the price down to the maximum amount that they felt that I could afford. They based that on my 2009 income, which was nearly the maximum it could possibly be. I remember this being a bit of a red flag for me, but that the broker assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem long-term because my salary would go up every year. I’d grow into it. At one point I remember joking with my friends at work that I had more overtime hours than I had regular time hours. They used to post everyone’s numbers, and if a certain amount of overtime participation was required but not fulfilled, they started at the bottom of that list mandating people. I was at the top.
From my understanding, the maximum amount allowed is 25% of your average monthly gross for the mortgage itself. Tacked onto that would be the monthly pull for taxes and insurance. In my case, I also had mortgage insurance since I put the least amount possible down. I had more money, but they refused to take it.
What it meant was that if I didn’t do any overtime, my monthly payment all in was roughly 75% of my take home pay without overtime. Add on top of that monthly utilities which were thankfully extremely low for a house that size. So, if there was no overtime, I was cool as long as I didn’t have to buy any food or gas that month.
Of course, now I was all in on overtime, with no real choice in the matter. I figured out that I needed at the very least to work every Saturday in order to make everything work. I had to make it work.
Hardway Finance Part 4
Hardway Finance Part 4
Credit where credit is due. In the six years I “owned” the house, I never, ever made a late payment. Ever. I always rounded up on the payment, too, bringing it up to the next hundred dollar level. I would designate it towards principle reduction, but they just ignored that and sent it all back once every year or so. I’d cash the check and blow the money on something stupid. I’d look forward to it.
Things went wrong with the house pretty much immediately. Water had gotten into the furnace exhaust and made a gurgling sound once I kicked it on. That was fixed for free, as were most of the furnace issues. Despite never being used before, the central air went out, requiring a $4,000 replacement. The elaborate stonework for the shower cracked at a corner, and the mortar on the floor started cracking, too. The shingles were of a poor design, and placed on the roof in a lazy way, which meant that if it rained from a certain direction, there was a leak in the roof that would come down from the hanging light in the dining room.
Brand new house.
Meanwhile, I got used to the payment, and all of the overtime, to the point that I would save up money and go on absolutely insane vacations. I’ve been in deserts, jungles, mountain tops, pyramids (plural!) And more ancient cities than you could shake a stick at. I’ve seen buildings that the Apostles also saw. I’ve been to the Great Wall of China. One year, with two vacations, I stepped foot in 12 countries on five continents. I’ve spent more time on layovers in German airports than most of my friends have spent outside of the US full stop. I’ve been through the Panama canal on a cruise ship. I bought an emerald in Columbia and jade in China. I’ve had a dinner of alpaca steak. I’ve had a main course that stared back at me. In all of my travels, I have visited 20 countries. I estimate that I spent at least $1,000 per country visited in travel expenses. On top of that, I had a mortgage that took up 75% of my base pay for a house that had things going wrong.
The house has an amazing home theater. For 2006, when the house was built, it was state of the art. It was still pretty good when I had it. Well, except that I could never use it, because I was always working to pay for it. It had a room that would protect me from tornadoes. It had one and a half kitchens. It was too much.
Credit where credit is due. In the six years I “owned” the house, I never, ever made a late payment. Ever. I always rounded up on the payment, too, bringing it up to the next hundred dollar level. I would designate it towards principle reduction, but they just ignored that and sent it all back once every year or so. I’d cash the check and blow the money on something stupid. I’d look forward to it.
Things went wrong with the house pretty much immediately. Water had gotten into the furnace exhaust and made a gurgling sound once I kicked it on. That was fixed for free, as were most of the furnace issues. Despite never being used before, the central air went out, requiring a $4,000 replacement. The elaborate stonework for the shower cracked at a corner, and the mortar on the floor started cracking, too. The shingles were of a poor design, and placed on the roof in a lazy way, which meant that if it rained from a certain direction, there was a leak in the roof that would come down from the hanging light in the dining room.
Brand new house.
Meanwhile, I got used to the payment, and all of the overtime, to the point that I would save up money and go on absolutely insane vacations. I’ve been in deserts, jungles, mountain tops, pyramids (plural!) And more ancient cities than you could shake a stick at. I’ve seen buildings that the Apostles also saw. I’ve been to the Great Wall of China. One year, with two vacations, I stepped foot in 12 countries on five continents. I’ve spent more time on layovers in German airports than most of my friends have spent outside of the US full stop. I’ve been through the Panama canal on a cruise ship. I bought an emerald in Columbia and jade in China. I’ve had a dinner of alpaca steak. I’ve had a main course that stared back at me. In all of my travels, I have visited 20 countries. I estimate that I spent at least $1,000 per country visited in travel expenses. On top of that, I had a mortgage that took up 75% of my base pay for a house that had things going wrong.
The house has an amazing home theater. For 2006, when the house was built, it was state of the art. It was still pretty good when I had it. Well, except that I could never use it, because I was always working to pay for it. It had a room that would protect me from tornadoes. It had one and a half kitchens. It was too much.
Hardway Finance Part 5
Hardway Finance Part 5
The end finally came in May of 2016. I had put the house up for sale in September of the prior year, but the realtor stretched things out to see where my divorce was going. Almost as soon as she had proof that there was no chance of anything going sideways with claims towards the house, it was sold.
I have no idea how to communicate the stress I was under trying to unload that house. Like I’ve mentioned before, I was never late on a payment, and if you’ve seen me, I clearly haven’t missed a meal, but by the end, the house was all bad memories, stress, and heartbreak. I spent roughly $115,000 in monthly payments in six years, plus at least another $8-10,000 in repairs, and when I sold it, after commissions I received a check for less than $2,000.
I once again cleared out almost every bit of my savings in anticipation for purchasing my new house. I bought all new furniture, replaced the stove, and got a dish washer and microwave (all cash/ layaway purchases.) I also purchased a central air unit, also a cash purchase. Once again, the year I bought a house was the year of a record income. This time, however, I didn’t max out on my mortgage. I maxed out on making it reasonably comfortable. The main bathroom is smaller than one of my closets at the old house. The ceilings are lower. There’s only one level, and the windows are older than I am. I got a 20 year mortgage, which I figure is a safe middle between making sure I pay it off “early” and also making sure that I had a small enough payment in case of a drop off in overtime.
Coincidentally, within five months of buying my cheaper home, work cut off all overtime for three months. Even with a car payment, for a car with a V8 that requires premium, I was able to make three trips to Chicago just to try new steakhouses. That car? I paid it off in 9 months (with some help from my tax refund and the sale of some stock.)
I’m also saving a lot more money. With my new lower budget, I am taking sometimes up to $500 per check and stashing it in long term savings, just in case things go really bad. It comes right off the top, before anything else. I’ve also started putting 15% of my income into my 401k, and have switched it to the more expensive (in effect not tax sheltered) Roth 401k which will be better for me in retirement. I went from a negative $50,000 net worth owning my old house to over a $100,000 net worth one year into having my new home. That net worth is going up fast, too.
One day, I did a search on what I paid for the stocks I sold to purchase that house in 2010. Had I kept them, I’d nearly have been able to pay for my current house. It reinforces everything I’ve heard about long term investing and “buy and hold” strategies. I’ve started again.
The end finally came in May of 2016. I had put the house up for sale in September of the prior year, but the realtor stretched things out to see where my divorce was going. Almost as soon as she had proof that there was no chance of anything going sideways with claims towards the house, it was sold.
I have no idea how to communicate the stress I was under trying to unload that house. Like I’ve mentioned before, I was never late on a payment, and if you’ve seen me, I clearly haven’t missed a meal, but by the end, the house was all bad memories, stress, and heartbreak. I spent roughly $115,000 in monthly payments in six years, plus at least another $8-10,000 in repairs, and when I sold it, after commissions I received a check for less than $2,000.
I once again cleared out almost every bit of my savings in anticipation for purchasing my new house. I bought all new furniture, replaced the stove, and got a dish washer and microwave (all cash/ layaway purchases.) I also purchased a central air unit, also a cash purchase. Once again, the year I bought a house was the year of a record income. This time, however, I didn’t max out on my mortgage. I maxed out on making it reasonably comfortable. The main bathroom is smaller than one of my closets at the old house. The ceilings are lower. There’s only one level, and the windows are older than I am. I got a 20 year mortgage, which I figure is a safe middle between making sure I pay it off “early” and also making sure that I had a small enough payment in case of a drop off in overtime.
Coincidentally, within five months of buying my cheaper home, work cut off all overtime for three months. Even with a car payment, for a car with a V8 that requires premium, I was able to make three trips to Chicago just to try new steakhouses. That car? I paid it off in 9 months (with some help from my tax refund and the sale of some stock.)
I’m also saving a lot more money. With my new lower budget, I am taking sometimes up to $500 per check and stashing it in long term savings, just in case things go really bad. It comes right off the top, before anything else. I’ve also started putting 15% of my income into my 401k, and have switched it to the more expensive (in effect not tax sheltered) Roth 401k which will be better for me in retirement. I went from a negative $50,000 net worth owning my old house to over a $100,000 net worth one year into having my new home. That net worth is going up fast, too.
One day, I did a search on what I paid for the stocks I sold to purchase that house in 2010. Had I kept them, I’d nearly have been able to pay for my current house. It reinforces everything I’ve heard about long term investing and “buy and hold” strategies. I’ve started again.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
This Week in Wrestling 2-5-17 (A Slight Return)
This Week in Wrestling 2/5/17 (A Slight Return)
As many of my friends are aware, I am a fan of pro wrestling. Not only that, but I used to attend a substantial number of live events. I attended enough events that the wrestlers knew who I was. Eventually, I started a blog on Myspace about my experiences. It was a weekly blog, and about 90%+ of the time, I had at least one show to write my experiences about.
Around the beginning of 2009, I decided that I needed to get some extra money together to buy a house. After that, I constantly needed to get some extra money to pay for the house. A lot more time became devoted to earning money, so I no longer had time to attend shows that often involved 6 hour round trips (not including the show itself).
Recently, however, my work hours have been cut to a much more modest 40 hours a week, so I have some time to spare for things such as pro wrestling shows. Honestly, I had forgotten how absolutely insane that life was. This is my experience stepping back into it for one day.
Actually, it started a few weeks ago. My friend Merle sent me a message letting me know that he would be in town for a show that was running at the fairgrounds. It had been eight years since I had attended a pro wrestling show in person, and I could hang out with one of my best friends, so I decided to go. While we were sitting together, I mentioned that I had a lot more spare time, and that I would be interested in doing a run to the airport to pick up a star if it was someone who was interesting enough.
Merle replied that he did have a big show coming up, and that he needed someone to pick up Rikishi, a 425 lb Samoan. I hesitantly agreed, then e-mailed a nearby Audi dealership to confirm whether my cars air suspension would be able to handle someone like Rikishi. They confirmed it would (it’s rated for 7,000 lbs). Rikishi ended up getting another booking nearby the night before, therefore I would not have to pick him up. Maybe that’s just as well, because he arrived with his adult nephew/ tag team partner.
Instead, I was given the opportunity to pick up three big name wrestlers from O’Hare in Chicago. The first was Teddy Long. He was a WWE referee for several years before being “promoted” to General Manager for the WWE Smackdown TV program. Eventually that ran its course and he was let go by the company. The second was Joey Ryan. He is a very well known independent wrestler who has worked in WWE and TNA, but is now working for the Lucha Underground promotion (among others). The third is a wrestler who became famous as Little Guido in ECW, then as Nunzio in WWE. He was a relatively small man in what at the time was a big man’s game in WWE.
The first man to arrive was Teddy Long. I texted him my description, along with my location so that he could easily find me. He called me back a few moments later and we coordinated everything. He sounded sleepy. After we found each other, I explained that we had two more people to collect, each in different areas of the airport that would require taking the shuttle multiple times. He was not particularly enthused about this, and became even less enthused when he didn’t recognize the next person we had to pick up (Joey Ryan). He wanted us to leave him and go directly to the hotel the promoter booked for him. He got a little less grumpy when I mentioned the third person, Nunzio. They’re friends.
At the beginning of all this, I figured that if Teddy Long called me “Playa” (what he called everyone during his segments on Smackdown) the trip would be worth it just for that. (He didn’t). He did loosen up a little bit when I mentioned Nunzio, and started telling me some stories about their time traveling together in WWE. Most of the stories are wildly inappropriate for this particular forum, however.
As a bit of a side note, the biggest worry I had about this whole thing is something I call the Superman effect. If you see someone in a certain way all the time, such as in wrestling gear, you may not recognize the person in street clothes. It happened to me once when I spent 20 minutes speaking to a woman who I later found out was actually one of the top female pro wrestlers not signed to WWE at the time. It didn’t end up being a problem for me at the airport.
Second on the list was Joey Ryan. I sent him a text with my description and location, and he found me quickly. On Facebook, I have shared videos of Joey Ryan wrestling, where he does some absolutely ridiculous and wildly inappropriate behavior. For instance, there is a youtube video of him overpowering an opponent who has grabbed him by the genitals using “those” muscles. He proposed to his girlfriend (also a pro wrestler) in a match they had against each other, then used the entire elaborate in-ring marriage proposal as a huge distraction to pin her and win the match. Joey Ryan was the practical, mature voice of reason on this trip, whose experience and connections got things going smoothly. Later that evening, I’d see someone shove a lollipop up his butt after someone else had pulled down his speedo, revealing his jock strap underneath.
Third on the list was Little Guido, aka Nunzio. I texted him, asking to meet us all at a luggage carousel in the same terminal he arrived at, but directly in front of where we needed to go to get back to my car. Getting confused and randomly parking in front of terminal one, where our final person was flying into Chicago was coming in, was absolutely amazing on my part. The smoothest part of the whole thing. I didn’t get a text back from Nunzio. Joey went off to find a bathroom, so it was back to just grumpy Teddy and me. After about 10 minutes, Joey still hadn’t returned and I hadn’t heard from Nunzio. I started walking back in the direction Joey left in. I found him looking at the flight board. We found Nunzio’s flight... it had arrived early.
Joey said he’d wait in the area where Nunzio’s luggage might arrive while I returned to the meeting point I designated. Five minutes later, Joey came back and told me he’d called Nunzio, asking him where he was. Right after that, Nunzio came into view, his carry-on in one hand, a beer in the other (10:30am). His first words to me were “hi” and “don’t worry, I’ll throw this away before we leave” which he did.
This is where the only story that Teddy Long told me that I can repeat comes in. Teddy told me that when they rode together, Nunzio would refuse to stay in an even reasonably nice hotel, and prefer to stay in the worst (and cheapest) hotel. At the same time, he would routinely run up $200 tabs in bars. Despite this, Nunzio would be at the gym every morning without any signs of his evenings drinking.
We went to my car, and loaded their bags into what I used to think was a large trunk. Then we made our way to South Bend. Teddy let Joey know that Joey would be sitting in front, since Teddy and Nunzio were friends. I managed to get slightly lost getting out of the parking lot, then did a reasonable job not getting lost leaving Chicago. Did I mention that Teddy was not particularly happy when he found out that there is an airport in South Bend, the city that the wrestling show was actually in? He settled down a little bit as he and Nunzio caught up on things, and eventually started telling some funny stories involving wildly inappropriate behavior while “working.” Joey would verify various facts by looking things up on the internet on his phone, or from personal knowledge. Teddy also had a very elaborate GPS app on his phone, which would randomly, and quite loudly call out every time there was a car stranded on the side of the road, along with directions I couldn’t hear.
At the last minute, (before we left Chicago) it was decided that we would be going to their hotel, not the venue. That was just as well, since my GPS has not been updated since they changed the name of the road that the Century Center is located on. They were all pretty cool about the one mistake I did make, but in a way, there was a lot of pressure there to get everything done. At random times during the drive from Chicago, I would hear a loud “snapping” sound of plastic from behind me (where Nunzio was sitting). It was wildly distracting, and more than a little disconcerting since I really like my car. Finally, two minutes away from the hotel, at a gas station with a Subway in it, while we were waiting for Teddy and Joey to get back to the car, Nunzio finally asked me what the big plastic flap was on his side window. I explained that it was for the non-functional side shade for the window.
A side note, during the trip to South Bend, Merle texted me for an update. I had meant to send him a text message with a photo of all three wrestlers, just before we left the airport, but forgot. Right after he texted me, he accidentally butt dialed my phone. I answered using the car’s hand’s free system, which allowed all four of us to know that Merle had butt dialed me on accident. It makes me wonder how many wrestling legends Merle has butt dialed.
The whole drive itself was great. My early morning start guaranteed light traffic, and the drive back was not particularly bad. It was also comfortable and very stable at the high speeds that surrounding traffic was pacing. The car was built for drives like this, and was absolutely perfect in that respect.
My plan for the day had been to drop the wrestlers off, go visit my dad to help him with his computer, and then return to South Bend to watch the show. Nunzio, meanwhile, had asked me to make a short side trip so that I could take him to a bar down the street from the hotel. While I was waiting for him to check in to his room and come back, my dad called to tell me that he wouldn’t be home. When Nunzio came back, I asked him if I could join him for lunch.
I did this for two reasons. First, I figured it would make a good story if he accepted (he did). Second, I had the time now, and if nothing else, would make sure that he got back to the hotel before they were picked up by someone else to go to the venue. We went to a Mexican restaurant/ bar. While he drank 5-6 bottles of beer, we spoke about the wrestling industry, and his experiences in it. He also told me about his regular day job, which involves managing a $15 million a year portion of a security business, and also working for the court.
We talked about dedication to the industry, and he told me about being on the incredibly scary flight that made wrestler Nathan Jones quit the business. He said that WWE had chartered a flight to Australia, with just one stop to refuel. The airport where they needed to land was having a huge blizzard, and the pilot was having problems even seeing the airport. He told me that with the plane shaking badly, the pilot started to land, then went back up because he couldn’t see the runway. They came back for a second try, and it also had to be aborted. He told me that finally, on the third try, they HAD to land because there was not enough fuel to make a forth attempt. On the third attempt, the pilot touched down on the runway, and everyone was safe. He said that there was just as good of a chance that they could have landed in the grass, or even crashed into someone’s home.
During the conversation, he got a few phone calls. Answering one, I could hear him say, “Yeah, I’m sitting here at a bar with a mark.” I think that he was trying to be discrete about it.
He wasn’t particularly interested in eating there, but I hadn’t had anything since about three in the morning. We got the bartender’s attention enough to get me a menu, but there was not a lot of follow up to it from there. At some point, Nunzio asked me if I was going to try and get someone’s attention so that I could order, but I replied that I was now more interested in seeing how many times the bartender could ignore me despite having a huge menu in front of me. Eventually, I did order, and Nunzio was right about not ordering food.
After a couple of hours talking, he decided that he wanted to go back to the hotel. I brought him back, then decided that I would go to the venue and have a bit of a rest. I’d been up since around 2 or 3 that morning, and still had several more hours that required me to be fully awake. I only managed to make two or three wrong turns on my way to the venue. That was pretty good, considering that I had only glanced at the location on google maps a day or two earlier. I had to cheat and look it up on my phone, though.
What shocked me the most was that short drive, and how much of a friggin’ dump South Bend is. I am embarrassed by how terrible that town looks. There are vast amounts of real estate that need to be bulldozed, with what few businesses and homes that are occupied consolidated to one section of town. How are the people in that city not ashamed, constantly?
I sat in the parking lot for quite a while, resting and reading Facebook and Gab. If you don’t know, Gab is kind of like Twitter, but not failing miserably. Merle called me again, and I purposely failed to mention that one of his marquee talents was 6+ beers in, but according to Teddy and Joey, totally fine to work. Eventually I went inside, where Merle let me go in early, but charged me double for the opportunity. For a second, I thought I had seen Jake Omen, another wrestler I knew back in the day and wanted to talk to, but he wasn’t there.
If you’ve never been inside a venue before the public is let in, let me explain the basics. It’s pure pandemonium. Rikishi was in a corner eating a whole turkey by himself. He had silverware but was ignoring it. Hornswoggle, or as he’s known now, Swoggle, was using one of the corner posts of the ring as a stripper pole. Jack Thriller was super kicking various wrestlers girlfriends. Adam Bueller was doing these crazy upside down double backflips starting from the top rope, balancing on with his hands. Robbie E, a top TNA talent, was chasing a live chicken up and down the aisles. Two wrestlers I didn’t recognize were having a knife fight to the death over a bucket of protein powder. All of this stopped abruptly when Merle gave everyone a three minute warning that they were going to open the doors.
Everyone who was on that show put in a fantastic effort to make it as good as it could be. There were a lot of guys I didn’t recognize, and all of them were good. Even the guys who I didn’t have any enthusiasm to see wrestle did well A lot of the local wrestlers clearly spent a lot of time and effort making sure that they were prepared to wrestle in front of a big crowd, and put a lot of thought into their characters. To be honest, it didn’t always used to be that way. I would like to mention them all by name, but the list is too long. If they were on the show, they are worth buying a ticket for.
There were some funny moments to the show. Jack Thriller brought his 1st place trophy for midget throwing with him to his match against midget wrestler Swoggle. They had a good match. I had already seen and been impressed by how much Adam Bueller had improved, but was surprised by how much the wrestler Ames had stepped up his game. Shane Mercer put on a good title defense against one of the best.
Of course, Joey Ryan put on a good show with lots of his craziness. It was made all the funnier knowing that he was the most mature wrestler I had dealt with that day. Someone needs to post that match online as a sort of “best of Joey Ryan.” I was surprised to see the Full Blooded Italians go on so early in the show, but I’m guessing they had some drinking they needed to start on before moving on to the next gig. Nunzio was half of that team, with Tracy Smothers. Tracy looks like he should be at home fishing with his grandchildren. To be fair, Nunzio is a great, and very responsible guy. In the main event, Rikishi shoved his butt into a female wrestlers face while she was half conscience and sitting in the corner of the ring. Everyone loved it.
After the show, I said goodbye to Merle and started home. Being unsure of where exactly I was, I set my address into my cars GPS and watched it utterly fail to do anything right. Fortunately I found the road I needed, but according to my Audi, I spent most of my drive off road. By the time I got home, settled down and ready for bed, it had been a 22 hour day of absolute insanity.
As many of my friends are aware, I am a fan of pro wrestling. Not only that, but I used to attend a substantial number of live events. I attended enough events that the wrestlers knew who I was. Eventually, I started a blog on Myspace about my experiences. It was a weekly blog, and about 90%+ of the time, I had at least one show to write my experiences about.
Around the beginning of 2009, I decided that I needed to get some extra money together to buy a house. After that, I constantly needed to get some extra money to pay for the house. A lot more time became devoted to earning money, so I no longer had time to attend shows that often involved 6 hour round trips (not including the show itself).
Recently, however, my work hours have been cut to a much more modest 40 hours a week, so I have some time to spare for things such as pro wrestling shows. Honestly, I had forgotten how absolutely insane that life was. This is my experience stepping back into it for one day.
Actually, it started a few weeks ago. My friend Merle sent me a message letting me know that he would be in town for a show that was running at the fairgrounds. It had been eight years since I had attended a pro wrestling show in person, and I could hang out with one of my best friends, so I decided to go. While we were sitting together, I mentioned that I had a lot more spare time, and that I would be interested in doing a run to the airport to pick up a star if it was someone who was interesting enough.
Merle replied that he did have a big show coming up, and that he needed someone to pick up Rikishi, a 425 lb Samoan. I hesitantly agreed, then e-mailed a nearby Audi dealership to confirm whether my cars air suspension would be able to handle someone like Rikishi. They confirmed it would (it’s rated for 7,000 lbs). Rikishi ended up getting another booking nearby the night before, therefore I would not have to pick him up. Maybe that’s just as well, because he arrived with his adult nephew/ tag team partner.
Instead, I was given the opportunity to pick up three big name wrestlers from O’Hare in Chicago. The first was Teddy Long. He was a WWE referee for several years before being “promoted” to General Manager for the WWE Smackdown TV program. Eventually that ran its course and he was let go by the company. The second was Joey Ryan. He is a very well known independent wrestler who has worked in WWE and TNA, but is now working for the Lucha Underground promotion (among others). The third is a wrestler who became famous as Little Guido in ECW, then as Nunzio in WWE. He was a relatively small man in what at the time was a big man’s game in WWE.
The first man to arrive was Teddy Long. I texted him my description, along with my location so that he could easily find me. He called me back a few moments later and we coordinated everything. He sounded sleepy. After we found each other, I explained that we had two more people to collect, each in different areas of the airport that would require taking the shuttle multiple times. He was not particularly enthused about this, and became even less enthused when he didn’t recognize the next person we had to pick up (Joey Ryan). He wanted us to leave him and go directly to the hotel the promoter booked for him. He got a little less grumpy when I mentioned the third person, Nunzio. They’re friends.
At the beginning of all this, I figured that if Teddy Long called me “Playa” (what he called everyone during his segments on Smackdown) the trip would be worth it just for that. (He didn’t). He did loosen up a little bit when I mentioned Nunzio, and started telling me some stories about their time traveling together in WWE. Most of the stories are wildly inappropriate for this particular forum, however.
As a bit of a side note, the biggest worry I had about this whole thing is something I call the Superman effect. If you see someone in a certain way all the time, such as in wrestling gear, you may not recognize the person in street clothes. It happened to me once when I spent 20 minutes speaking to a woman who I later found out was actually one of the top female pro wrestlers not signed to WWE at the time. It didn’t end up being a problem for me at the airport.
Second on the list was Joey Ryan. I sent him a text with my description and location, and he found me quickly. On Facebook, I have shared videos of Joey Ryan wrestling, where he does some absolutely ridiculous and wildly inappropriate behavior. For instance, there is a youtube video of him overpowering an opponent who has grabbed him by the genitals using “those” muscles. He proposed to his girlfriend (also a pro wrestler) in a match they had against each other, then used the entire elaborate in-ring marriage proposal as a huge distraction to pin her and win the match. Joey Ryan was the practical, mature voice of reason on this trip, whose experience and connections got things going smoothly. Later that evening, I’d see someone shove a lollipop up his butt after someone else had pulled down his speedo, revealing his jock strap underneath.
Third on the list was Little Guido, aka Nunzio. I texted him, asking to meet us all at a luggage carousel in the same terminal he arrived at, but directly in front of where we needed to go to get back to my car. Getting confused and randomly parking in front of terminal one, where our final person was flying into Chicago was coming in, was absolutely amazing on my part. The smoothest part of the whole thing. I didn’t get a text back from Nunzio. Joey went off to find a bathroom, so it was back to just grumpy Teddy and me. After about 10 minutes, Joey still hadn’t returned and I hadn’t heard from Nunzio. I started walking back in the direction Joey left in. I found him looking at the flight board. We found Nunzio’s flight... it had arrived early.
Joey said he’d wait in the area where Nunzio’s luggage might arrive while I returned to the meeting point I designated. Five minutes later, Joey came back and told me he’d called Nunzio, asking him where he was. Right after that, Nunzio came into view, his carry-on in one hand, a beer in the other (10:30am). His first words to me were “hi” and “don’t worry, I’ll throw this away before we leave” which he did.
This is where the only story that Teddy Long told me that I can repeat comes in. Teddy told me that when they rode together, Nunzio would refuse to stay in an even reasonably nice hotel, and prefer to stay in the worst (and cheapest) hotel. At the same time, he would routinely run up $200 tabs in bars. Despite this, Nunzio would be at the gym every morning without any signs of his evenings drinking.
We went to my car, and loaded their bags into what I used to think was a large trunk. Then we made our way to South Bend. Teddy let Joey know that Joey would be sitting in front, since Teddy and Nunzio were friends. I managed to get slightly lost getting out of the parking lot, then did a reasonable job not getting lost leaving Chicago. Did I mention that Teddy was not particularly happy when he found out that there is an airport in South Bend, the city that the wrestling show was actually in? He settled down a little bit as he and Nunzio caught up on things, and eventually started telling some funny stories involving wildly inappropriate behavior while “working.” Joey would verify various facts by looking things up on the internet on his phone, or from personal knowledge. Teddy also had a very elaborate GPS app on his phone, which would randomly, and quite loudly call out every time there was a car stranded on the side of the road, along with directions I couldn’t hear.
At the last minute, (before we left Chicago) it was decided that we would be going to their hotel, not the venue. That was just as well, since my GPS has not been updated since they changed the name of the road that the Century Center is located on. They were all pretty cool about the one mistake I did make, but in a way, there was a lot of pressure there to get everything done. At random times during the drive from Chicago, I would hear a loud “snapping” sound of plastic from behind me (where Nunzio was sitting). It was wildly distracting, and more than a little disconcerting since I really like my car. Finally, two minutes away from the hotel, at a gas station with a Subway in it, while we were waiting for Teddy and Joey to get back to the car, Nunzio finally asked me what the big plastic flap was on his side window. I explained that it was for the non-functional side shade for the window.
A side note, during the trip to South Bend, Merle texted me for an update. I had meant to send him a text message with a photo of all three wrestlers, just before we left the airport, but forgot. Right after he texted me, he accidentally butt dialed my phone. I answered using the car’s hand’s free system, which allowed all four of us to know that Merle had butt dialed me on accident. It makes me wonder how many wrestling legends Merle has butt dialed.
The whole drive itself was great. My early morning start guaranteed light traffic, and the drive back was not particularly bad. It was also comfortable and very stable at the high speeds that surrounding traffic was pacing. The car was built for drives like this, and was absolutely perfect in that respect.
My plan for the day had been to drop the wrestlers off, go visit my dad to help him with his computer, and then return to South Bend to watch the show. Nunzio, meanwhile, had asked me to make a short side trip so that I could take him to a bar down the street from the hotel. While I was waiting for him to check in to his room and come back, my dad called to tell me that he wouldn’t be home. When Nunzio came back, I asked him if I could join him for lunch.
I did this for two reasons. First, I figured it would make a good story if he accepted (he did). Second, I had the time now, and if nothing else, would make sure that he got back to the hotel before they were picked up by someone else to go to the venue. We went to a Mexican restaurant/ bar. While he drank 5-6 bottles of beer, we spoke about the wrestling industry, and his experiences in it. He also told me about his regular day job, which involves managing a $15 million a year portion of a security business, and also working for the court.
We talked about dedication to the industry, and he told me about being on the incredibly scary flight that made wrestler Nathan Jones quit the business. He said that WWE had chartered a flight to Australia, with just one stop to refuel. The airport where they needed to land was having a huge blizzard, and the pilot was having problems even seeing the airport. He told me that with the plane shaking badly, the pilot started to land, then went back up because he couldn’t see the runway. They came back for a second try, and it also had to be aborted. He told me that finally, on the third try, they HAD to land because there was not enough fuel to make a forth attempt. On the third attempt, the pilot touched down on the runway, and everyone was safe. He said that there was just as good of a chance that they could have landed in the grass, or even crashed into someone’s home.
During the conversation, he got a few phone calls. Answering one, I could hear him say, “Yeah, I’m sitting here at a bar with a mark.” I think that he was trying to be discrete about it.
He wasn’t particularly interested in eating there, but I hadn’t had anything since about three in the morning. We got the bartender’s attention enough to get me a menu, but there was not a lot of follow up to it from there. At some point, Nunzio asked me if I was going to try and get someone’s attention so that I could order, but I replied that I was now more interested in seeing how many times the bartender could ignore me despite having a huge menu in front of me. Eventually, I did order, and Nunzio was right about not ordering food.
After a couple of hours talking, he decided that he wanted to go back to the hotel. I brought him back, then decided that I would go to the venue and have a bit of a rest. I’d been up since around 2 or 3 that morning, and still had several more hours that required me to be fully awake. I only managed to make two or three wrong turns on my way to the venue. That was pretty good, considering that I had only glanced at the location on google maps a day or two earlier. I had to cheat and look it up on my phone, though.
What shocked me the most was that short drive, and how much of a friggin’ dump South Bend is. I am embarrassed by how terrible that town looks. There are vast amounts of real estate that need to be bulldozed, with what few businesses and homes that are occupied consolidated to one section of town. How are the people in that city not ashamed, constantly?
I sat in the parking lot for quite a while, resting and reading Facebook and Gab. If you don’t know, Gab is kind of like Twitter, but not failing miserably. Merle called me again, and I purposely failed to mention that one of his marquee talents was 6+ beers in, but according to Teddy and Joey, totally fine to work. Eventually I went inside, where Merle let me go in early, but charged me double for the opportunity. For a second, I thought I had seen Jake Omen, another wrestler I knew back in the day and wanted to talk to, but he wasn’t there.
If you’ve never been inside a venue before the public is let in, let me explain the basics. It’s pure pandemonium. Rikishi was in a corner eating a whole turkey by himself. He had silverware but was ignoring it. Hornswoggle, or as he’s known now, Swoggle, was using one of the corner posts of the ring as a stripper pole. Jack Thriller was super kicking various wrestlers girlfriends. Adam Bueller was doing these crazy upside down double backflips starting from the top rope, balancing on with his hands. Robbie E, a top TNA talent, was chasing a live chicken up and down the aisles. Two wrestlers I didn’t recognize were having a knife fight to the death over a bucket of protein powder. All of this stopped abruptly when Merle gave everyone a three minute warning that they were going to open the doors.
Everyone who was on that show put in a fantastic effort to make it as good as it could be. There were a lot of guys I didn’t recognize, and all of them were good. Even the guys who I didn’t have any enthusiasm to see wrestle did well A lot of the local wrestlers clearly spent a lot of time and effort making sure that they were prepared to wrestle in front of a big crowd, and put a lot of thought into their characters. To be honest, it didn’t always used to be that way. I would like to mention them all by name, but the list is too long. If they were on the show, they are worth buying a ticket for.
There were some funny moments to the show. Jack Thriller brought his 1st place trophy for midget throwing with him to his match against midget wrestler Swoggle. They had a good match. I had already seen and been impressed by how much Adam Bueller had improved, but was surprised by how much the wrestler Ames had stepped up his game. Shane Mercer put on a good title defense against one of the best.
Of course, Joey Ryan put on a good show with lots of his craziness. It was made all the funnier knowing that he was the most mature wrestler I had dealt with that day. Someone needs to post that match online as a sort of “best of Joey Ryan.” I was surprised to see the Full Blooded Italians go on so early in the show, but I’m guessing they had some drinking they needed to start on before moving on to the next gig. Nunzio was half of that team, with Tracy Smothers. Tracy looks like he should be at home fishing with his grandchildren. To be fair, Nunzio is a great, and very responsible guy. In the main event, Rikishi shoved his butt into a female wrestlers face while she was half conscience and sitting in the corner of the ring. Everyone loved it.
After the show, I said goodbye to Merle and started home. Being unsure of where exactly I was, I set my address into my cars GPS and watched it utterly fail to do anything right. Fortunately I found the road I needed, but according to my Audi, I spent most of my drive off road. By the time I got home, settled down and ready for bed, it had been a 22 hour day of absolute insanity.
Monday, November 7, 2016
That Time I Was in Huffpo For a Second
That Time I Was in Huffpo For a Second
It is difficult not being the stereotype. Or the one that just follows along with what society expects you to be. You just can’t do it, or they’ll burn you. I’m a tall, white, overweight guy. I’m not supposed to be able to be coordinated or dance. Certainly, I should not be able to twerk.
According to the article in question (which has at the advice of various lawyers, been pulled down) a white guy doing something black ladies made popular is cultural appropriation.
I am writing this well after the controversy, and well after twerking fell out of the mainstream. This blog is sort of in response to an article that was forwarded to me by a friend. I never read the site, since I lean to a more conservative bent. I was never interviewed, nor even contacted for the article, so that kind of goes along with how the left works.
For those of you who don’t know, twerking is essentially the vigorous and rhythmic shaking of one’s booty. It is artistic butt shaking. I saw a joke about it on Twitter (which at this point is actually less popular than twerking) and watched a couple videos. Then I tried to do it myself.
At first, it kind of hurt a little bit to do, but it was also kind of fun. Of course, I looked absolutely ridiculous. To some, I looked absolutely ridiculous during my entire career of twerking. I didn’t care, though. I had the rhythm, and the attitude required to do it.
At my “prime”, or the very top of my twerking game, I was practicing at least four hours a day. On days off of work, it was closer to 16. This is while I was married, and work days were 12 hours, so my schedule was impossible. A lot of my practice time was while I was on break at work. I work in a factory, so you can only imagine the taunting and jokes that were flying around the shop floor. In the end (pun intended), I earned their respect.
While I was at the mall one afternoon, a flyer caught my eye. It was a local twerking competition that would be the initial round in the region for the World Twerking Championship. The winner of the competition would then be allowed to compete at the state tournament in Indianapolis. According to the website, the winner of the state tournament would go on to Los Angeles for the US/ World finals. I decided to enter.
One cold and blustery morning, I drove up to the baseball field in South Bend to see if my twerking skills were all that I thought they were. There were easily a thousand other people there, of which I was not the only guy, but definitely the only white guy. We were all counted out into groups of 50. Each group would then go out onto the field, a song would start, and everyone would start twerking. A group of judges walked through the group and would tap the shoulder of whoever was getting eliminated.
My group was the fourth one out onto the field. The first song started, and I did my thing, shaking my butt in various creative ways. All around me were other hopefuls, all of us believing ourselves to be the best. At the end of the first song, probably half of the group had already been eliminated, but I was still there. The second song started, and now it was much easier to see who was judging, and who was being judged. Half way through the song, I could see two of the judges standing next to each other, watching me. I didn’t let it phase me, and after a few moments they moved on. By the end of the song, I was still in the competition as one of the top five in my group.
Believe me when I say that there were a lot of people absolutely shocked at this.
Round two was three hours later. There were only two groups of fifty remaining. It was the top fives of all the first round groups of fifty. This time, there would be three songs, and at the end there could only be three people per group. Those six people would move on to the state competition, but the overall winner would be the team captain and have more responsibility. At the end of the first song, several people had been eliminated, but I was still out there twerking. The second song started and during the chorus, I got a tap on my shoulder. It was like I was awakened from a trance, and I walked off the field dejected. Towards the end of the song, an argument erupted between several of the judges and a few of the other twerkers. They didn’t start the third song, but at the end of the argument, one of the judges walked over to me and told me to get back in and continue. They had reversed the decision of the judge, and I had one more song to prove myself. If I made even the slightest error, I would be out.
The third song started and I twerked my heart out, doing the most physical, artistic, and emotional twerking performance ever done to a Puff Daddy song. The song started with ten people, but by the end, I was one of the final three. I was a finalist, and would represent north western Indiana at the state competition in Indianapolis. Once the other group finished their eliminations, we would have a twerk off. One person would do a short performance, and the other person would have to match that, then add more. The first person would then have to start from the beginning, match what was added, and add more. This would go on until someone made an error, and the other person would win. The final three would then do a three way version of this until two of the three were eliminated.
To speed up the story a bit, I won. There were 999 other people, but I was the winner of the north west Indiana twerking competition. Eight weeks later, the six of us piled into the GMC I had at the time, and went to Indianapolis for the state tournament.
The state competition was a much different affair. There were only thirty competitors at this event, and the rules were much different. The first round would essentially be self elimination because it was based around endurance. The last five (literally) standing would make it to the nationals, and the second round would determine the team leader. As before, the team leader would also get $1,000.
The first round was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. We would go an hour, then be given a five minute break, then back to twerking. In all, the first round lasted about seven hours and ended with two fitness instructors, a marathon runner, a professional dancer, and me.
The second round was identical to the second round of the last competition, and to speed things up, had the same results. I was the overall winner going to the nationals in Los Angeles.
This was the big time. I made it to the nationals as the leader for Team Indiana, or as we were known, Vanilla Swirl. There were,once again, a few other guys, and a very, very pale red headed lady. She and I were the only pale people there, including the crowd. The whole thing was being filmed by BET. I have never seen the show, since I was in it, and I don’t have that channel. It would be cool to see, though.
When I won the state finals, I got a call from a representative of Larry the Cable Guy. She offered to fly my team to the nationals on Mr. The Cable Guy’s private plane. I accepted, but the other four on my team declined the offer. They were uncomfortable flying on a plane with a confederate flag, I guess.
This was a two day affair. Day one started promptly at 6am, and would be an elimination similar to the state competition. We would twerk for an hour, get a five minute break, then continue twerking. You either eliminated yourself by getting too tired, or a judge would tap you on the shoulder because your twerking got too weak. It was not a matter of form, because everyone had already gotten this far, it was 100% stamina. 250 would start, with the final ten making the finals the next day.
I have never shaken my booty harder or longer in my entire life. This was the cream of the crop for the entire world! Well, the world inside the United States. Mostly black people, but it was the world finals! I shook, I danced, I got jiggy with it, and whatever other similes you want to come up with. By around 5pm, it was down to the final ten, and I was in.
I spent the rest of the evening in the hot tub of the hotel they put us up in. If you want to get a lot of strange looks from people, sit in a hot tub with nine athletic black women in their 20's and 30's.
The next day, we were split into two groups of five. Round one would be a twerk off where one would start and the next would have to follow with the same routine, then add to it. Miss a step and you were eliminated. To once again speed up this blog a bit, I won. Arsenio Hall, the MC of the whole thing, seemed rather shocked when he came up and shook my hand and told me I was in the final two. The other final finalist was a nice black lady from Atlanta who was a fitness instructor/ dance instructor. I can’t imagine anyone was particularly happy with me making it this far, but no one said anything negative to me about it. I think BET was hoping to show a lot of footage of fit ladies shaking their booty, but they ended up with me in the finals. It wasn’t as if they could deny my skills.
The final round was similar to the last round, except it was just the two of us. Cameras were rolling and I started the dance. People in the crowd were yelling, trying to break my concentration as I went, only to be quiet when Shaniqua did her thing. She used a lot of her yoga and ballet training, and even ended one of her sequences with the splits trying to get me eliminated, but nothing would stop me. Finally, after about five hours, Shaniqua slipped up and the judges had no choice but to award me the world twerking championship.
There was a fair amount of booing from the crowd when I was officially announced the winner, but Shaniqua herself raised my hand. I got a dozen roses and a tiara, which felt kind of weird at the time, but obviously they were not really planning on a white guy winning. I gave the flowers to Shaniqua, but the tiara is in a memory box in a spare bedroom. There was a press conference afterwards, but I was not asked very many questions. They all seemed much more interested in Shaniqua, which was fine with me. I understood. I actually gave my winnings to a local women’s shelter. Shaniqua was getting swarmed by hollywood managers and representatives wishing for her to endorse their products.
Shaniqua and I stay in contact to this day. She has a million selling line of fitness videos, and has done work in movies and television. Whenever she tells me about some big thing she is doing, she finishes with, “but you’re the better twerker.” I did some motivational speaking for a while, and visited some schools, teaching kindergarteners some basic booty shaking. After I slipped on some ice and hurt one of my hips, I was essentially out of the twerking game.
As far as I know, that was the only twerking world championships that was ever held, because the whole fad came and went pretty quickly. I look back on that time fondly, of course. I have a friend for life with connections to hollywood, and a tiara that signifies that I am the twerking world champion of all time.
It is difficult not being the stereotype. Or the one that just follows along with what society expects you to be. You just can’t do it, or they’ll burn you. I’m a tall, white, overweight guy. I’m not supposed to be able to be coordinated or dance. Certainly, I should not be able to twerk.
According to the article in question (which has at the advice of various lawyers, been pulled down) a white guy doing something black ladies made popular is cultural appropriation.
I am writing this well after the controversy, and well after twerking fell out of the mainstream. This blog is sort of in response to an article that was forwarded to me by a friend. I never read the site, since I lean to a more conservative bent. I was never interviewed, nor even contacted for the article, so that kind of goes along with how the left works.
For those of you who don’t know, twerking is essentially the vigorous and rhythmic shaking of one’s booty. It is artistic butt shaking. I saw a joke about it on Twitter (which at this point is actually less popular than twerking) and watched a couple videos. Then I tried to do it myself.
At first, it kind of hurt a little bit to do, but it was also kind of fun. Of course, I looked absolutely ridiculous. To some, I looked absolutely ridiculous during my entire career of twerking. I didn’t care, though. I had the rhythm, and the attitude required to do it.
At my “prime”, or the very top of my twerking game, I was practicing at least four hours a day. On days off of work, it was closer to 16. This is while I was married, and work days were 12 hours, so my schedule was impossible. A lot of my practice time was while I was on break at work. I work in a factory, so you can only imagine the taunting and jokes that were flying around the shop floor. In the end (pun intended), I earned their respect.
While I was at the mall one afternoon, a flyer caught my eye. It was a local twerking competition that would be the initial round in the region for the World Twerking Championship. The winner of the competition would then be allowed to compete at the state tournament in Indianapolis. According to the website, the winner of the state tournament would go on to Los Angeles for the US/ World finals. I decided to enter.
One cold and blustery morning, I drove up to the baseball field in South Bend to see if my twerking skills were all that I thought they were. There were easily a thousand other people there, of which I was not the only guy, but definitely the only white guy. We were all counted out into groups of 50. Each group would then go out onto the field, a song would start, and everyone would start twerking. A group of judges walked through the group and would tap the shoulder of whoever was getting eliminated.
My group was the fourth one out onto the field. The first song started, and I did my thing, shaking my butt in various creative ways. All around me were other hopefuls, all of us believing ourselves to be the best. At the end of the first song, probably half of the group had already been eliminated, but I was still there. The second song started, and now it was much easier to see who was judging, and who was being judged. Half way through the song, I could see two of the judges standing next to each other, watching me. I didn’t let it phase me, and after a few moments they moved on. By the end of the song, I was still in the competition as one of the top five in my group.
Believe me when I say that there were a lot of people absolutely shocked at this.
Round two was three hours later. There were only two groups of fifty remaining. It was the top fives of all the first round groups of fifty. This time, there would be three songs, and at the end there could only be three people per group. Those six people would move on to the state competition, but the overall winner would be the team captain and have more responsibility. At the end of the first song, several people had been eliminated, but I was still out there twerking. The second song started and during the chorus, I got a tap on my shoulder. It was like I was awakened from a trance, and I walked off the field dejected. Towards the end of the song, an argument erupted between several of the judges and a few of the other twerkers. They didn’t start the third song, but at the end of the argument, one of the judges walked over to me and told me to get back in and continue. They had reversed the decision of the judge, and I had one more song to prove myself. If I made even the slightest error, I would be out.
The third song started and I twerked my heart out, doing the most physical, artistic, and emotional twerking performance ever done to a Puff Daddy song. The song started with ten people, but by the end, I was one of the final three. I was a finalist, and would represent north western Indiana at the state competition in Indianapolis. Once the other group finished their eliminations, we would have a twerk off. One person would do a short performance, and the other person would have to match that, then add more. The first person would then have to start from the beginning, match what was added, and add more. This would go on until someone made an error, and the other person would win. The final three would then do a three way version of this until two of the three were eliminated.
To speed up the story a bit, I won. There were 999 other people, but I was the winner of the north west Indiana twerking competition. Eight weeks later, the six of us piled into the GMC I had at the time, and went to Indianapolis for the state tournament.
The state competition was a much different affair. There were only thirty competitors at this event, and the rules were much different. The first round would essentially be self elimination because it was based around endurance. The last five (literally) standing would make it to the nationals, and the second round would determine the team leader. As before, the team leader would also get $1,000.
The first round was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. We would go an hour, then be given a five minute break, then back to twerking. In all, the first round lasted about seven hours and ended with two fitness instructors, a marathon runner, a professional dancer, and me.
The second round was identical to the second round of the last competition, and to speed things up, had the same results. I was the overall winner going to the nationals in Los Angeles.
This was the big time. I made it to the nationals as the leader for Team Indiana, or as we were known, Vanilla Swirl. There were,once again, a few other guys, and a very, very pale red headed lady. She and I were the only pale people there, including the crowd. The whole thing was being filmed by BET. I have never seen the show, since I was in it, and I don’t have that channel. It would be cool to see, though.
When I won the state finals, I got a call from a representative of Larry the Cable Guy. She offered to fly my team to the nationals on Mr. The Cable Guy’s private plane. I accepted, but the other four on my team declined the offer. They were uncomfortable flying on a plane with a confederate flag, I guess.
This was a two day affair. Day one started promptly at 6am, and would be an elimination similar to the state competition. We would twerk for an hour, get a five minute break, then continue twerking. You either eliminated yourself by getting too tired, or a judge would tap you on the shoulder because your twerking got too weak. It was not a matter of form, because everyone had already gotten this far, it was 100% stamina. 250 would start, with the final ten making the finals the next day.
I have never shaken my booty harder or longer in my entire life. This was the cream of the crop for the entire world! Well, the world inside the United States. Mostly black people, but it was the world finals! I shook, I danced, I got jiggy with it, and whatever other similes you want to come up with. By around 5pm, it was down to the final ten, and I was in.
I spent the rest of the evening in the hot tub of the hotel they put us up in. If you want to get a lot of strange looks from people, sit in a hot tub with nine athletic black women in their 20's and 30's.
The next day, we were split into two groups of five. Round one would be a twerk off where one would start and the next would have to follow with the same routine, then add to it. Miss a step and you were eliminated. To once again speed up this blog a bit, I won. Arsenio Hall, the MC of the whole thing, seemed rather shocked when he came up and shook my hand and told me I was in the final two. The other final finalist was a nice black lady from Atlanta who was a fitness instructor/ dance instructor. I can’t imagine anyone was particularly happy with me making it this far, but no one said anything negative to me about it. I think BET was hoping to show a lot of footage of fit ladies shaking their booty, but they ended up with me in the finals. It wasn’t as if they could deny my skills.
The final round was similar to the last round, except it was just the two of us. Cameras were rolling and I started the dance. People in the crowd were yelling, trying to break my concentration as I went, only to be quiet when Shaniqua did her thing. She used a lot of her yoga and ballet training, and even ended one of her sequences with the splits trying to get me eliminated, but nothing would stop me. Finally, after about five hours, Shaniqua slipped up and the judges had no choice but to award me the world twerking championship.
There was a fair amount of booing from the crowd when I was officially announced the winner, but Shaniqua herself raised my hand. I got a dozen roses and a tiara, which felt kind of weird at the time, but obviously they were not really planning on a white guy winning. I gave the flowers to Shaniqua, but the tiara is in a memory box in a spare bedroom. There was a press conference afterwards, but I was not asked very many questions. They all seemed much more interested in Shaniqua, which was fine with me. I understood. I actually gave my winnings to a local women’s shelter. Shaniqua was getting swarmed by hollywood managers and representatives wishing for her to endorse their products.
Shaniqua and I stay in contact to this day. She has a million selling line of fitness videos, and has done work in movies and television. Whenever she tells me about some big thing she is doing, she finishes with, “but you’re the better twerker.” I did some motivational speaking for a while, and visited some schools, teaching kindergarteners some basic booty shaking. After I slipped on some ice and hurt one of my hips, I was essentially out of the twerking game.
As far as I know, that was the only twerking world championships that was ever held, because the whole fad came and went pretty quickly. I look back on that time fondly, of course. I have a friend for life with connections to hollywood, and a tiara that signifies that I am the twerking world champion of all time.
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