You cannot see me at this moment but I am wearing a handsome tuxedo. For your information, I'm the sixth finest butler to ever author a professional wrestling blog. As you may recall, this is no ordinary butler's professional wrestling blog.
Welcome to the one-year anniversary of The Swerved with Stephen Rivera. This week, I celebrate the life and times of this little site on this here internet in the company of my friends and loved ones. Ever since I was a little girl in a flowery sundress, I longed for a place on the information tremendous turnpike to call my very own. It was in the month of September of the year 2006 that I started up The Swerved. When I began to follow my dream, I did not know how the venture would go; I was not sure how the public would receive my full-on personality. Now that I sit here with a year of golden stupidity under my comedy belt, I can look back at the work that I have done with pride and satisfaction. One day, I will reminisce in my bungalo for one with the knowledge that I have made a difference in this world which turns and turns. Today, I look to the future in hopes to dish out more potential greatness to the mass audience. I'll be pouring on the funny sauce until your hilarity cup says, "When." References to laughs are neat.
To those of you who have followed my work from the start, you are in my heart for all time. For those of you that have just joined me on this uphill journey to Glory Mountain, I hope you do not fall off this wondrous wagon, this e-Sherpa of wrestling delight. Finally, to those of you who despise The Swerved and or its creator, I have this to say--oh no you did not with finger snaps of a sassy nature in the general vicinity of your facial structure. Somebody hold my weave. Somebody hold my weave up. You want to tango, Bunter Bitch Belmsley? I've got the monkey claw pose going now, fool. Cufflinks. I've got the cufflinks off too.
Stephen Rivera... to many people, that name can mean so many things.
Awesome student. Stellar son. Big brother. Great neighbor. Sweet boyfriend. Best damn babysitter on the block.
But to me, and to those of us at The Armpit (which is about to re-launch imminently; cheap plug), the name Stephen Rivera brings to mind images of heartburn, gas, and the Heimlich Maneuver.
That's not because Stephen is spicy (though women have told me he is), but because he is high in fiber.
It's because he's friggin' hilarious, and we've busted many a gut and choked on many a popcorn kernel by reading his weekly doses of comic genius. But he is high in fiber, too. The insoluble kind.
I call myself many things (loser, dork, dumbf***, pipsqueak, unlucky S.O.B), but one thing I call myself every Monday morning is lucky. Why? Because I have a great wife and she initiated all verbal contact, physical contact, and wedding plans while I stood there quivering my lip. That, and also because I get to work with Stephen Rivera.
You see, Rivera is a rare breed. He's half poodle and half St. Bernard. But he's also funny without trying to be funny, and that is a trait as rare as a natural physique in the WWE locker room circa 2006.
What drew Stephen and I together? Our eyes met across a crowded room, if by room you mean thousands of miles of mountainous region, and by eyes you mean cable modems. He slipped me his business card, if by business card you mean an email containing his first article. And I hired him on the spot for a huge salary, if by hiring you mean copying and pasting, and by huge salary you mean working for free.
We got lots of guest articles back in the day, and I was too nice to tell anyone they sucked. We posted some real clunkers, and people let us know about it. But with Stephen, the difference was obvious. He had real talent, real humor, and real breasts. No one complained about Stephen's articles; they wrote in with gushing praise. This was unheard of for anyone except two people: Stephen Rivera and Jimbo.
But this column isn't about Jimbo. Or is it? Oh, it is? Shoot, ok never mind everything I just said. Replace the word "Stephen" with "Jimbo." But what about the word "Rivera?" That would confuse people into thinking I'm writing about Jimbo Rivera. There is no such person. And if there is, I would alert the authorities because he would have dual citizenship.
Stephen is the most awesome comic mind I've ever seen who wasn't selling out stadiums with their HBO specials. And I've seen a lot of minds, especially in my Biology lab. And Rivera may have even done an HBO special, but if he has, he hasn't told me. Have you, Stephen?
Stephen's creativity is unmatched, and if someone were to match it, he'd beat their price.
Stephen's graphics are top notch, and that's a notch on a bedpost with hundreds of notches below it.
Stephen's blogs are diamonds in the rough, and diamonds are forever, and so is Ric Flair.
It would be an honor if Stephen Rivera were to work with me, or by himself, or for a major motion picture. As good as he is, he represents a lot of shame. Shame for anyone with a Human Resources budget who doesn't hire this man immediately and make him a star.
If I worked for Conan O'Brien, I'd hire Stephen and fire all the other writers. If I worked for Jay Leno, I'd hire Stephen and make the other writers prepare his lunch. If I worked for David Letterman, I'd hire Stephen as the host and make David the band leader. If I worked for Howard Stern, I'd toss Rivera's resumé in the trash and soak in all the glory myself.
That's how highly I think of Stephen Rivera, and I never get high. Congratulations to Mr. Rivera for his blogs of glory, and thank you so much for writing me the most awesome material in the past, present, and future.
Stephen Rivera rules the world, and that's one Sid Vicious reference you can take to the bank. I'm proud to call him my friend, and even more proud to call him collect. He's that damn good, and HHH, you aren't man enough to even dust his mousepad.
I'm Swerved, you're Swerved, we're all Swerved. Here's to another year of Swervin' it up.
First and foremost, I would like to congratulate my good friend Rivera on the first year anniversary of The Swerved. Do you know what the traditional gift for one-year anniversaries is? That’s right, satire. And here’s to a wondrous future of much more of it, and hopefully, us getting paid some day.
I prefer to liken Mr. Rivera with his hero, Conan O’Brien. They’re both funny as heck, and they’re able to pull off abstract humor with bravado, gusto, and a whole lot of other-os, which is particularly hard to do in the world of interneting.
Where do I see The Swerved, and thusly, Mr. Rivera, a year from now? Well, on top of course. I’m not quite sure which object they will be atop of, but I’m sure that it will provide a pretty sweet view.
Finally, to mark this momentous occasion, I decided to construct a haiku poem in Rivera’s honor. It goes a little something like this:
Blogspot king of comedy,
Out of syllables."
Good luck with everything
J. (JIMBO) Swift
Thank you for providing The Swerved with sports, entertainment, and sports-like entertainmentesque source material on a weekly basis:
World Wrestling Entertainment
Total Nonstop Action
Thank you for your friendship, support, and free cheese:
Archibald "The Wrestling Professor " Gutierrez
James "Jimbo" Swift
Thank you for being a friend:
The Golden Girls a.k.a. The Four Horsewomen
Thank you for joining in on the insanity:
Alex Reimer
Justin Shapiro
Thank you for featuring me on your site that one time at the end of that one thing with other things over there:
Big Dave Meltzer
Thank you for the acids:
Jemaine Clement
Bret McKenzie
Thank you for being my audience:
The Swerved Nation
The Followers of The Pit
Thank you for being foxy and relevant to this blog:
Rachelle Leah
Mickie James' Psycho Persona
Thank you for being foxy and irrelevant to this blog:
Jade Raymond
January Jones
Thank you for being so awesome:
Me
Thank you for your thank yous:
Everyone
Thank you:
Come Again
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