Count to three...

Last night I had a new experience. I went to a professional wrestling match.

Now, I'm not much of one for sports. That's putting it mildly. I rarely know who's playing in the superbowl until my one of my friends looks at me oddly and tells me a day or so before the game.

Anyway, the company the love of my life works for owns a skybox at the RBC Center, so they often have tickets to give away to employees. Of course, my sports loving other half grabbed 2 tickets to the event of the season...WWE Smackdown.

Unfortunately, none of our friends were available to go, so I was the second ticket. Together, my love and I headed to a smackdown. Is this ever a good statement?

We were in a skybox at the RBC center looking over a small square and tiny people. It was like watching action figures fighting. They started out small, and get bigger and bigger as the show went along.

Of course there was a break in the enlargement process as the women took the ring. The champion with white leggins with strategic windows in the sides, and a "local favorite" from Virginia wearing black martial arts pants. They both wore sports bras that never moved or shifted no matter what the action...(How did they do that?)

I was amazed at the difference in fighting styles. While the men did nice fake wrestling moves, telegraphed punches, and jumped into each other's arms for body slams. the women kicked each others butts. I saw karate katas, side kicks that actually connected, and real martial arts. I was amazed. This was no cat fight, this was combat.

So, the champion beat the challenger, and the next set of men dwarfed the Barbies from the previous round. Back to overacting and posturing. Now don't get me wrong, this is not stuff you or I could do. You have to be a hell of an athelete to hold a 200+ pound man over your shoulder and control his fall to the mat. In its own way it was all amazing. But it was like watching a magic show where you know the secret to all the tricks. It's a great performance, but not my thing.

All in all it was a good thing there was a lighted area in the skybox. I watched about 2 minutes of each match, until it just seemed silly, then I went across the box and sat by the light to read. (except for the ninja girls. I watched about ten minutes of them, but left when they started doing the wrap up using the wrestling moves.) Needless to say, I read quite a bit. In the 3.5 hours I was there I finished Candy Halliday's "Dinner First, Me Later," and read 175 pages of Rachel Vincent's "Stray."

So, I didn't do any work Sunday, just like I said (except volunteer at church, clean 22 cages, feed 36 birds, medicate 3 hawks ...) and I did get to read a bit. it was a good day, even if it ended with a smackdown!