Motivation Schmotivation
Nov 10, 2016 20:07:48 GMT -5
Post by pimp on Nov 10, 2016 20:07:48 GMT -5
You will all bow to me.
This isn’t about The New Kings, this is about Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine.
I’m not fighting for anyone else…actually that’s a lie. I’m fighting for everyone, but this time, I’m the only one who controls my fate. I don’t have to carry dead weight. I have my word and my balls. That’s it. This is what everyone wants: The Scandalous Champion.
Sorry, but I don’t give a fuck about any of your individual journeys. None of your fairytales, trials and tribulations. Dizzy with the kidnapping bullshit. It’s poetic justice for her to walk away with the prize. What would all the controversy mean without it? What would be the payoff for the five people who gave a fuck about her being gone, if she ends up falling short? What would all that talk of shaking FGA to its foundation mean if she falls flat on her fucking face?
But it doesn’t matter because Cordy has this in the bag right? It’s only right that she finally touches that gold after her story. The ankle. The choking. It only makes sense that she gets her comeuppance after her Chris Q setback and battles with Chandler Scott. Cordy has to finally get the exclamation point on her career after months and months of hardship. This is where it all comes full circle. So what if every time she’s in a big match she drops the ball? So what if she’s a hypocrite who trashes the elite group she should be a part of just because she can’t convincingly prove to anyone why she deserves to be there? She should win just because right?
And what about Annie she wants to be taken seriously so bad. She wants to be looked at as the little girl who blossomed into a superstar. She wants to smile in my face while taking the dagger to my back. She thinks she deserves victory. She thinks she deserves to be victorious just because she’s played the rules of the game and even bent a few for her benefit. She thinks just because she THINKS she’s doing everything in this business the right way, she’ll get all the accolades and accomplishments OWED to her. I don’t know if I’ve knocked you out so much that you saw stars in the ceiling of every arena I left you lying in. I don’t know if you truly just have this delusion that you can honestly beat me. Whatever, it’s starting to get on my fucking nerves. Why can’t you let me glorious? Be a real fucking friend for a change. You know you have no business anywhere near a World title anywhere. You know you have no chance trying to sabotage my opportunity at the world title, so what is it? You think lightening’s going to strike off a prayer and good juju? How many times do I have to explain to you and everyone else in this company that when it comes to that top prize it isn’t amateur hour. It shouldn’t be “hey let’s give everyone a chance!” it’s about proving that you’re the best, not just when gold is at stake. It’s about proving you’re the best even when you’re sick. Even when no one wants you on top.
I’ve been concussed.
I’ve been screwed.
I’ve been written off.
NEVER have I ever thought I was guaranteed to win something just because of who I was. Even if that’s what I made you all think, I never stop working hard. I never stop getting better, which is why you people can do whatever you need to do to step your game up in this wildcard tourney. It won’t mean a fucking thing. I don’t stagnate. I was miles ahead of Annie the last time we touched. Now I’m light years beyond anything you could ever prepare for. You probably think that I’ve already written you off and to a certain extent, I have. But I know I’ve motivated you. I know that every loss I’ve handed you has made you stronger. You prove that when we meet in the ring. New moves. More resilience. Hun, you’ve even started to take a few dirty tricks out of the Scandalous One’s playbook.
It’s just like Noelle asking my friends to join our gym.
It’s just like Dooder3G taking over 3GW.
It’s just like the decision to pay tickets or tune into a Vertigo show or any FGA PPV for that matter.
There’s one common denominator. It’s the FACT that I can inspire those around me. I lifted Johnny Cannon’s career out of the rubble and look where he is now. Along with the Royal Suspects, waiting on the King of Kings to bring home the gold. These matches go beyond you, Bordy and Dizzy. If I don’t win, I’ll be letting down an entire ecosystem that would be nothing without my sunlight. Annie you may have trained the hardest you’ve ever trained. Studied every single SSTC match, particularly the ones we’ve had together. You’re desperately trying to figure out what mistakes you made. What mistakes you can catch me on. Well the fact that you’re determined to breakout and do the unthinkable isn’t enough to put you over that hump. I have some baaaad news for you, Cordy and Izzy.
Motivation will only take you hos so far.
At some point, you have to have it. IT was never something I lacked. IT is what you three are still trying to find. IT isn’t something you research. You either have IT or you don’t, and truthfully Annie, you don’t have shit. You travel the world dying for exposure. You came into this game like the bitch who first stumbled into Dragon Tales. Grew up a little bit. Now you’re changing up, and you know what it makes you look like? Just like everyone else. Just like the rest of the run of the mill pussies around this business who think that just because they try to play stinky meanie poo poo head in the ring, it magically makes them a superstar overnight. You had your own niche. Your own thing. You were a role model to little girls who, even if they had daddy issues, would still have enough confidence not to grow up and end up with a pimp like me. What now?
This Lindsay Lohan, tragic Disney child bullshit is sooooo cliche, and sweetheart I see right through it. You’re not a badass. You’re not a brat. You’re not one of these basic ass bitches in wrestling who stepped off a runway and think they can hang with the big boys just because they did gymnastics in high school. You’re above that, or at least I thought you were. It shouldn’t surprise me that you swerved out of your lane though. You want to be considered the cream of the crop, when all you really are is a fucking follower. Your nosiness has gotten the best of you. On Twitter getting involved in situations you have no business getting into. You’re trying to live the life a young mogul, a female Scandalous Tony but it’s not in your DNA. You should’ve been right with Noelle in a seminar I gave to a bunch of trainees up in the Bronx a few weeks ago. You’ll take any opportunity to learn from the best, especially when it gives you a break from the mediocre trash you surround yourself with. You wish you were as talented as the Scandalous One. If you want the key to being successful while staying true to yourself, then honey, you’re getting into the ring with the right one. The Scandalous One.
I’m not going to be the same man that has always kicked your ass, I’ll be just a bit better. But it won’t be because I have shit to prove to you or anyone else. I’m not the one looking for myself out of the three of you losers. I’m not the one using this as a last ditch effort to show everyone how good I am. I’ve done that already. I just need the world title to put the fork in the beef. They handed Annie a shitty deal when they made her fight me first. They should’ve known better not to hold two besties against each other with the prospect of the holy grail on the line. So now I have to stop yet another friend from reaching their dream. Breaks my heart. But it also breaks my heart that you know how much I deserve this championship, yet you’re so determined to yank the rug underneath me. You know you’re nowhere near the level as the Scandalous One, which is why it would make your entire career to stop me from getting gold. I promise, I will snap your neck in six pieces before I let you ruin everything I’ve built. Everything I’ve worked for.
The lineage of this belt is reserved for those who don’t get caught up in elementary social media drama. Maybe you’ll win a REAL strap one day. One day when you’re more focused on glory than living the fast life. You see the Scandalous One in the best clothes, with the best hos from whom I collect tolls…but that’s life outside of the ring and I’ve learned how to separate the two. That’s what makes me a fucking star. Annie, we can be friends and I can show how to find yourself again, but you have to cut loose on those clearance rack sluts you call friends. They’re cancerous and they’re reason you’ll never be FGA World Champion. They’re purposefully dragging you down to their level. Into their lifestyle. Into their mediocrity.
It takes a certain pedigree of an individual to call himself a champion. None of my competition in this bullshit ass tournament embodies what it means to be royalty. They wouldn’t even know what to do with the crown…besides maybe take it with them to nude photoshoots and use it to cover up the blue waffle between their legs. Or pull some dumbass publicity stunt, desperate to still be taken seriously in a wrestling world that was never built for them. It’s no wonder why the strap repels from bitches like Dizzy and Cordy’s grip each time they reach for it. Cindy Parker, one of the greatest of all time, clearly showed that she was the only member of Sex Sells with any depth and any real breakout potential as far as in-ring competition goes. Cordy’s just like all of these empty-headed broads in wrestling: lost and looking for direction.
The sweet thirst trap angel routine didn’t work, now you’re adding a little bit more fire in your words. Talking about how much you want it. How much more you need this belt than just about everyone in this tournament. You’re talking about this Wildcard shit being the culmination for everything you’ve been working for…just like the Lion’s Cup was supposed to be the culmination of everything you’ve been working for…just like the six million matches you had with Chandler Scott were supposed to be the culmination of everything you’ve been working for. For any Cordy Stevenson, it must be the bitch who cried wolf. It’s unfortunate, because the Scandalous One is a big fan. I like you Cordy, believe it or not. I really do. I watch your matches and I’m amazed. I listen to you speak and for a second, I find myself invested in your success. You’re beautiful, even if you don’t leave much to the imagination. You’re smarter than the average Miami bitch, which doesn’t say much but it says a lot coming from yours truly. You’re a big name so fans and wrestlers alike all look up to you. What’s not to like about that? The Scandalous One has never downplayed any of your accomplishments. You’re made…BUT…and this but is bigger than yours…the ship for you has sailed. You were hot in 2015. White hot. You had more momentum than anyone in this company besides myself. You had the potential to breakout and really seal the deal as the queen of the mountain.
But what happened?
Injury plagued you, and you found out the same lesson Zero did. The world moved on without you. People have passed you by, and now you’re relegated to a tag team you don’t want to be in. You never expected this thing with Dan to go this far didn’t you? I don’t even think you believed you would win, and if you did, you certainly never believed you’d have to carry Dan Herrera’s dead weight with you every step of the way. Now you look at him with regret. You see The New Kings dominating the land you once had in the palm of your hands and you’re trying to figure out every possible way to get out. Dan Herrera isn’t someone you want attached to your legacy. This tournament was a blessing in disguise and you couldn’t have an easier stepping stone to the finals.
Dizzy Izzy doesn’t know who she is. One week she’s just happy to be here. The next week she’s pushing kids down in the sandbox. The next week she gets abducted. The week after that, she’s back, motivated by angry from no one giving a shit about her. All this talk about being the best champion in FGA history and she has nothing to show for it. Izzy allowed herself to be lost in the shuffle of every menstruating bitch in FGA with a lot of mouth and very little action to back it up. Who honestly looks at Izzy Anders and sees someone who’s a threat? Cordy doesn’t. I’m the only one in this thing she has her eye. I’m the only one who’s going to stop her from getting that happy ending. Izzy’s strategy is to be underestimated; but at some point, you actually have to show that you’re worth estimation at all. Who have you beaten Dizzy? What momentum have you ever been able to sustain? Looking and talking the part isn’t enough to get you recognized as a star. Bitch all you’ve really done is talk yourself into getting fucked up and fucked over. You both act like the world owes you something. No one owes any of you shit. I hope you both don’t think determination alone will be enough to get you to the finals. Izzy doesn’t know what it’s like to be a top notch superstar, in a top notch match with top notch stakes on the line. You’re going to do whatever to barely survive against each other. It’s going to take the life out of you both. Making whichever one of you limping into the main event easy pickings for the Scandalous One. The way I see it, you two might as well save each other from disappointment. Forfeit. It’ll just be another iron you couldn’t strike while it was hot. One thing’s for certain, neither one of you will ruin my night. For five years this place has lived but it was just two and a half years ago that the sun finally rose on FGA. No matter what the peasants in the locker room have tried doing, I’ve remained on top and my chase to the crown jewel hasn’t detoured. Zero thinks he’s still the champion when in actuality he never was.
He was never the man who’s outlasted the flavors of the month.
He was never the man to put asses in seats back when FGA was struggling for exposure.
He wasn’t the guy who put this place on his back when no one took the competition here seriously.
Now he claims to be the man responsible for the recent buzz when everyone with half a brain, my opponents included, knows that Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine is the fucking breath of fresh air everyone comes to see.
Me and no one else.
Facts Only.
Motivation Schmotivation
November 9, 2016
Miami, FL
Location: Strava Hair & Nail
November is national “Pamper-a-Pimp” month: where us pimps from all over the country take a break from breaking bitches and just enjoy the fruits of our labor. It all culminated to the annual Player’s Ball in San Francisco the weekend after Thanksgiving. I was sitting under the hair dryer along with two of my ‘colleagues’ from Jacksonville: “Beautiful” Bobby Blowfish Waters and “Tomcat” Timmy Two Times. I had a fresh set of staff in Strava now that Chauncey was gone. The place was remodeled and all of my old clientele was starting to come back. It felt good to sit back in my salon, let my hair dry in my cute little pink rollers and get a pedicure by one of the many new Vietnamese foot specialists I just hired. These bitches don’t speak a lick of english so all communication goes through The Goats since they’re Mongolian. Close enough.
“Hey Tomcat, honey your mane is shining like a wild lion in a safari. What’s in that Jax water sweetie?”
Timmy and Blowfish both laughed. “Why tank ya Freakyshina, but I am NOT telling you who does my hair.” Timmy Two Times turns and sort of whispers to Blowfish. “I don’t want him to end up dead like the last one.”
“I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT! I promise!” I gave a puppy dog face, knowing full well I had Santos take out his last hairdresser out of petty jealousy but I’ve matured since then. “Besides, he was shitty anyways, and I heard he ran out of Oribe and put Garner Fructis in the bottle so his clients would still think it’s Oribe…ugh sooo passè.”
Blowfish looked confused for a second, then angrily turned to Timmy Two Times. “Nigga, I TOLD YOU something about that conditioning didn’t seem right, jack. That jive turkey played me like a fiddle I’m glad someone fried his ass like a griddle!”
“Please.” Timmy said calmly, looking down at his nails without making eye contact (something he never does). “Tony won’t be satisfied until he has control over all the runways. All the salons. All the bitches. I’m shocked he even invited us to his domain Bobby.”
I don’t have the greatest reputation with other Adult Service Providers in the southeast region. “Hey Tomcat Timmy, cool it. You know Scandalous is a changed man now. When I first broke in, I didn’t think it paid to have friends. Well it’s just like any other business, it’s about who you know not what you know. We have all these anti-sex perverts, trying to shake us down. I had to shape up quick. Now with this wrestling career taking off, I’m even less cutthroat than I used to be. I brought you two out because it’s PAP month and I haven’t seen you cats in what feels like ages.” I looked down at the girl taking the nail filer to my feet, I wanted to tell her to keep it gentile, but I remembered she couldn’t understand me. “I just want mine. You can have yours.”
“That’s all gravy, baby.” Blowfish gave me a side eye. “But the Player’s Ball is coming up soon…you’re gonna have to have something special to bring to The Great Madame.”
The Great Madame was the queen of our industry. At the Player’s Ball she sits in her own VIP section on a throne and in order to keep your standing amongst the greatest pimps, you have to pay your dues: gift her. “We ain’t been that impressive the last few years. Those cats from Vegas always have to outdo us. We bring her Louie. They bring her Balenciaga. We bring rare Brazilian models. They found some Amazonian bitches from Bora Bora. I don’t even know what the bitch would want.”
Smirking, “I do.”
“And what is that?”
“The FGA World Title. It’s mine this weekend.” Blowfish and Timmy stared at me. They weren’t fans of wrestling, but it was no secret that The Great Madame was, and she knew I was making headway in the business. Showing her that I could balance my business with winning such a coveted prize is necessary to cement my status as Pimp of Pimps. One of my many motivations.
The both rolled their eyes. “You’ve been trying to win that thing for how long now? What’s so special about this weekend?” Timmy asked.
“He’s got the groove. He’s got the moves. He’s got the attitude. And now he’s got a little candy to control his mood.” Blowfish winked at me, knowing I was dabbling in cocaine again. Timmy scoffed.
“He had all of that before and didn’t win, what makes this different?”
It was something I had pondered for a while. “It’s my time, sweetheart. This year’s Player’s Ball will be one to remember for ages.” For better or for worse.
This isn’t about The New Kings, this is about Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine.
I’m not fighting for anyone else…actually that’s a lie. I’m fighting for everyone, but this time, I’m the only one who controls my fate. I don’t have to carry dead weight. I have my word and my balls. That’s it. This is what everyone wants: The Scandalous Champion.
Sorry, but I don’t give a fuck about any of your individual journeys. None of your fairytales, trials and tribulations. Dizzy with the kidnapping bullshit. It’s poetic justice for her to walk away with the prize. What would all the controversy mean without it? What would be the payoff for the five people who gave a fuck about her being gone, if she ends up falling short? What would all that talk of shaking FGA to its foundation mean if she falls flat on her fucking face?
But it doesn’t matter because Cordy has this in the bag right? It’s only right that she finally touches that gold after her story. The ankle. The choking. It only makes sense that she gets her comeuppance after her Chris Q setback and battles with Chandler Scott. Cordy has to finally get the exclamation point on her career after months and months of hardship. This is where it all comes full circle. So what if every time she’s in a big match she drops the ball? So what if she’s a hypocrite who trashes the elite group she should be a part of just because she can’t convincingly prove to anyone why she deserves to be there? She should win just because right?
And what about Annie she wants to be taken seriously so bad. She wants to be looked at as the little girl who blossomed into a superstar. She wants to smile in my face while taking the dagger to my back. She thinks she deserves victory. She thinks she deserves to be victorious just because she’s played the rules of the game and even bent a few for her benefit. She thinks just because she THINKS she’s doing everything in this business the right way, she’ll get all the accolades and accomplishments OWED to her. I don’t know if I’ve knocked you out so much that you saw stars in the ceiling of every arena I left you lying in. I don’t know if you truly just have this delusion that you can honestly beat me. Whatever, it’s starting to get on my fucking nerves. Why can’t you let me glorious? Be a real fucking friend for a change. You know you have no business anywhere near a World title anywhere. You know you have no chance trying to sabotage my opportunity at the world title, so what is it? You think lightening’s going to strike off a prayer and good juju? How many times do I have to explain to you and everyone else in this company that when it comes to that top prize it isn’t amateur hour. It shouldn’t be “hey let’s give everyone a chance!” it’s about proving that you’re the best, not just when gold is at stake. It’s about proving you’re the best even when you’re sick. Even when no one wants you on top.
I’ve been concussed.
I’ve been screwed.
I’ve been written off.
NEVER have I ever thought I was guaranteed to win something just because of who I was. Even if that’s what I made you all think, I never stop working hard. I never stop getting better, which is why you people can do whatever you need to do to step your game up in this wildcard tourney. It won’t mean a fucking thing. I don’t stagnate. I was miles ahead of Annie the last time we touched. Now I’m light years beyond anything you could ever prepare for. You probably think that I’ve already written you off and to a certain extent, I have. But I know I’ve motivated you. I know that every loss I’ve handed you has made you stronger. You prove that when we meet in the ring. New moves. More resilience. Hun, you’ve even started to take a few dirty tricks out of the Scandalous One’s playbook.
It’s just like Noelle asking my friends to join our gym.
It’s just like Dooder3G taking over 3GW.
It’s just like the decision to pay tickets or tune into a Vertigo show or any FGA PPV for that matter.
There’s one common denominator. It’s the FACT that I can inspire those around me. I lifted Johnny Cannon’s career out of the rubble and look where he is now. Along with the Royal Suspects, waiting on the King of Kings to bring home the gold. These matches go beyond you, Bordy and Dizzy. If I don’t win, I’ll be letting down an entire ecosystem that would be nothing without my sunlight. Annie you may have trained the hardest you’ve ever trained. Studied every single SSTC match, particularly the ones we’ve had together. You’re desperately trying to figure out what mistakes you made. What mistakes you can catch me on. Well the fact that you’re determined to breakout and do the unthinkable isn’t enough to put you over that hump. I have some baaaad news for you, Cordy and Izzy.
Motivation will only take you hos so far.
At some point, you have to have it. IT was never something I lacked. IT is what you three are still trying to find. IT isn’t something you research. You either have IT or you don’t, and truthfully Annie, you don’t have shit. You travel the world dying for exposure. You came into this game like the bitch who first stumbled into Dragon Tales. Grew up a little bit. Now you’re changing up, and you know what it makes you look like? Just like everyone else. Just like the rest of the run of the mill pussies around this business who think that just because they try to play stinky meanie poo poo head in the ring, it magically makes them a superstar overnight. You had your own niche. Your own thing. You were a role model to little girls who, even if they had daddy issues, would still have enough confidence not to grow up and end up with a pimp like me. What now?
This Lindsay Lohan, tragic Disney child bullshit is sooooo cliche, and sweetheart I see right through it. You’re not a badass. You’re not a brat. You’re not one of these basic ass bitches in wrestling who stepped off a runway and think they can hang with the big boys just because they did gymnastics in high school. You’re above that, or at least I thought you were. It shouldn’t surprise me that you swerved out of your lane though. You want to be considered the cream of the crop, when all you really are is a fucking follower. Your nosiness has gotten the best of you. On Twitter getting involved in situations you have no business getting into. You’re trying to live the life a young mogul, a female Scandalous Tony but it’s not in your DNA. You should’ve been right with Noelle in a seminar I gave to a bunch of trainees up in the Bronx a few weeks ago. You’ll take any opportunity to learn from the best, especially when it gives you a break from the mediocre trash you surround yourself with. You wish you were as talented as the Scandalous One. If you want the key to being successful while staying true to yourself, then honey, you’re getting into the ring with the right one. The Scandalous One.
I’m not going to be the same man that has always kicked your ass, I’ll be just a bit better. But it won’t be because I have shit to prove to you or anyone else. I’m not the one looking for myself out of the three of you losers. I’m not the one using this as a last ditch effort to show everyone how good I am. I’ve done that already. I just need the world title to put the fork in the beef. They handed Annie a shitty deal when they made her fight me first. They should’ve known better not to hold two besties against each other with the prospect of the holy grail on the line. So now I have to stop yet another friend from reaching their dream. Breaks my heart. But it also breaks my heart that you know how much I deserve this championship, yet you’re so determined to yank the rug underneath me. You know you’re nowhere near the level as the Scandalous One, which is why it would make your entire career to stop me from getting gold. I promise, I will snap your neck in six pieces before I let you ruin everything I’ve built. Everything I’ve worked for.
The lineage of this belt is reserved for those who don’t get caught up in elementary social media drama. Maybe you’ll win a REAL strap one day. One day when you’re more focused on glory than living the fast life. You see the Scandalous One in the best clothes, with the best hos from whom I collect tolls…but that’s life outside of the ring and I’ve learned how to separate the two. That’s what makes me a fucking star. Annie, we can be friends and I can show how to find yourself again, but you have to cut loose on those clearance rack sluts you call friends. They’re cancerous and they’re reason you’ll never be FGA World Champion. They’re purposefully dragging you down to their level. Into their lifestyle. Into their mediocrity.
It takes a certain pedigree of an individual to call himself a champion. None of my competition in this bullshit ass tournament embodies what it means to be royalty. They wouldn’t even know what to do with the crown…besides maybe take it with them to nude photoshoots and use it to cover up the blue waffle between their legs. Or pull some dumbass publicity stunt, desperate to still be taken seriously in a wrestling world that was never built for them. It’s no wonder why the strap repels from bitches like Dizzy and Cordy’s grip each time they reach for it. Cindy Parker, one of the greatest of all time, clearly showed that she was the only member of Sex Sells with any depth and any real breakout potential as far as in-ring competition goes. Cordy’s just like all of these empty-headed broads in wrestling: lost and looking for direction.
The sweet thirst trap angel routine didn’t work, now you’re adding a little bit more fire in your words. Talking about how much you want it. How much more you need this belt than just about everyone in this tournament. You’re talking about this Wildcard shit being the culmination for everything you’ve been working for…just like the Lion’s Cup was supposed to be the culmination of everything you’ve been working for…just like the six million matches you had with Chandler Scott were supposed to be the culmination of everything you’ve been working for. For any Cordy Stevenson, it must be the bitch who cried wolf. It’s unfortunate, because the Scandalous One is a big fan. I like you Cordy, believe it or not. I really do. I watch your matches and I’m amazed. I listen to you speak and for a second, I find myself invested in your success. You’re beautiful, even if you don’t leave much to the imagination. You’re smarter than the average Miami bitch, which doesn’t say much but it says a lot coming from yours truly. You’re a big name so fans and wrestlers alike all look up to you. What’s not to like about that? The Scandalous One has never downplayed any of your accomplishments. You’re made…BUT…and this but is bigger than yours…the ship for you has sailed. You were hot in 2015. White hot. You had more momentum than anyone in this company besides myself. You had the potential to breakout and really seal the deal as the queen of the mountain.
But what happened?
Injury plagued you, and you found out the same lesson Zero did. The world moved on without you. People have passed you by, and now you’re relegated to a tag team you don’t want to be in. You never expected this thing with Dan to go this far didn’t you? I don’t even think you believed you would win, and if you did, you certainly never believed you’d have to carry Dan Herrera’s dead weight with you every step of the way. Now you look at him with regret. You see The New Kings dominating the land you once had in the palm of your hands and you’re trying to figure out every possible way to get out. Dan Herrera isn’t someone you want attached to your legacy. This tournament was a blessing in disguise and you couldn’t have an easier stepping stone to the finals.
Dizzy Izzy doesn’t know who she is. One week she’s just happy to be here. The next week she’s pushing kids down in the sandbox. The next week she gets abducted. The week after that, she’s back, motivated by angry from no one giving a shit about her. All this talk about being the best champion in FGA history and she has nothing to show for it. Izzy allowed herself to be lost in the shuffle of every menstruating bitch in FGA with a lot of mouth and very little action to back it up. Who honestly looks at Izzy Anders and sees someone who’s a threat? Cordy doesn’t. I’m the only one in this thing she has her eye. I’m the only one who’s going to stop her from getting that happy ending. Izzy’s strategy is to be underestimated; but at some point, you actually have to show that you’re worth estimation at all. Who have you beaten Dizzy? What momentum have you ever been able to sustain? Looking and talking the part isn’t enough to get you recognized as a star. Bitch all you’ve really done is talk yourself into getting fucked up and fucked over. You both act like the world owes you something. No one owes any of you shit. I hope you both don’t think determination alone will be enough to get you to the finals. Izzy doesn’t know what it’s like to be a top notch superstar, in a top notch match with top notch stakes on the line. You’re going to do whatever to barely survive against each other. It’s going to take the life out of you both. Making whichever one of you limping into the main event easy pickings for the Scandalous One. The way I see it, you two might as well save each other from disappointment. Forfeit. It’ll just be another iron you couldn’t strike while it was hot. One thing’s for certain, neither one of you will ruin my night. For five years this place has lived but it was just two and a half years ago that the sun finally rose on FGA. No matter what the peasants in the locker room have tried doing, I’ve remained on top and my chase to the crown jewel hasn’t detoured. Zero thinks he’s still the champion when in actuality he never was.
He was never the man who’s outlasted the flavors of the month.
He was never the man to put asses in seats back when FGA was struggling for exposure.
He wasn’t the guy who put this place on his back when no one took the competition here seriously.
Now he claims to be the man responsible for the recent buzz when everyone with half a brain, my opponents included, knows that Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine is the fucking breath of fresh air everyone comes to see.
Me and no one else.
Facts Only.
Motivation Schmotivation
November 9, 2016
Miami, FL
Location: Strava Hair & Nail
November is national “Pamper-a-Pimp” month: where us pimps from all over the country take a break from breaking bitches and just enjoy the fruits of our labor. It all culminated to the annual Player’s Ball in San Francisco the weekend after Thanksgiving. I was sitting under the hair dryer along with two of my ‘colleagues’ from Jacksonville: “Beautiful” Bobby Blowfish Waters and “Tomcat” Timmy Two Times. I had a fresh set of staff in Strava now that Chauncey was gone. The place was remodeled and all of my old clientele was starting to come back. It felt good to sit back in my salon, let my hair dry in my cute little pink rollers and get a pedicure by one of the many new Vietnamese foot specialists I just hired. These bitches don’t speak a lick of english so all communication goes through The Goats since they’re Mongolian. Close enough.
“Hey Tomcat, honey your mane is shining like a wild lion in a safari. What’s in that Jax water sweetie?”
Timmy and Blowfish both laughed. “Why tank ya Freakyshina, but I am NOT telling you who does my hair.” Timmy Two Times turns and sort of whispers to Blowfish. “I don’t want him to end up dead like the last one.”
“I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT! I promise!” I gave a puppy dog face, knowing full well I had Santos take out his last hairdresser out of petty jealousy but I’ve matured since then. “Besides, he was shitty anyways, and I heard he ran out of Oribe and put Garner Fructis in the bottle so his clients would still think it’s Oribe…ugh sooo passè.”
Blowfish looked confused for a second, then angrily turned to Timmy Two Times. “Nigga, I TOLD YOU something about that conditioning didn’t seem right, jack. That jive turkey played me like a fiddle I’m glad someone fried his ass like a griddle!”
“Please.” Timmy said calmly, looking down at his nails without making eye contact (something he never does). “Tony won’t be satisfied until he has control over all the runways. All the salons. All the bitches. I’m shocked he even invited us to his domain Bobby.”
I don’t have the greatest reputation with other Adult Service Providers in the southeast region. “Hey Tomcat Timmy, cool it. You know Scandalous is a changed man now. When I first broke in, I didn’t think it paid to have friends. Well it’s just like any other business, it’s about who you know not what you know. We have all these anti-sex perverts, trying to shake us down. I had to shape up quick. Now with this wrestling career taking off, I’m even less cutthroat than I used to be. I brought you two out because it’s PAP month and I haven’t seen you cats in what feels like ages.” I looked down at the girl taking the nail filer to my feet, I wanted to tell her to keep it gentile, but I remembered she couldn’t understand me. “I just want mine. You can have yours.”
“That’s all gravy, baby.” Blowfish gave me a side eye. “But the Player’s Ball is coming up soon…you’re gonna have to have something special to bring to The Great Madame.”
The Great Madame was the queen of our industry. At the Player’s Ball she sits in her own VIP section on a throne and in order to keep your standing amongst the greatest pimps, you have to pay your dues: gift her. “We ain’t been that impressive the last few years. Those cats from Vegas always have to outdo us. We bring her Louie. They bring her Balenciaga. We bring rare Brazilian models. They found some Amazonian bitches from Bora Bora. I don’t even know what the bitch would want.”
Smirking, “I do.”
“And what is that?”
“The FGA World Title. It’s mine this weekend.” Blowfish and Timmy stared at me. They weren’t fans of wrestling, but it was no secret that The Great Madame was, and she knew I was making headway in the business. Showing her that I could balance my business with winning such a coveted prize is necessary to cement my status as Pimp of Pimps. One of my many motivations.
The both rolled their eyes. “You’ve been trying to win that thing for how long now? What’s so special about this weekend?” Timmy asked.
“He’s got the groove. He’s got the moves. He’s got the attitude. And now he’s got a little candy to control his mood.” Blowfish winked at me, knowing I was dabbling in cocaine again. Timmy scoffed.
“He had all of that before and didn’t win, what makes this different?”
It was something I had pondered for a while. “It’s my time, sweetheart. This year’s Player’s Ball will be one to remember for ages.” For better or for worse.