If real life was like professional wrestling

Every time I got off the elevator at work, my intro music would kick in. I would pose as my pyro went off.

I would have huge, obviously fake breasts.

When my boss made me mad, I would just throw a steel folding chair at him and when he caught it, drop kick it in his face.

When I played Monopoly, I would “accidently” knock out the banker, steal all the money, and bring him around just when I was about to win.

I would carry my hockey stick everywhere, and give it a name. I shall call it Torgo.

Spandex and thigh high boots would be appropriate work clothes.

I would refer to myself in the third person, all the time. “hardygrrl will take you out, brother”

I would have fierce feuds with others until I turned heel and aligned with them.

Whenever I wanted to make a point with my boss and make sure that is was gonna stick, I’d get one inch away from her face and breath so hard that her hair would blow back. I would raise my right eyebrow clear up to my hairline and flex my pecs as well.

I would have some great theme music that would cue up every time I walk into a room. And I’d have such an awesome body that, eventually, I’d guest star on Baywatch.

Kidnapping and attempted murder would be legal

It would be acceptable for the CEO of a 1/2 billion dollar publicly traded company to force women to strip down and bark like a dog on national TV

When our parents would refuse to turn over the family business, we would simply invade their offices with our freinds and take over

Football, baseball, hockey and basketball players would drink beer and give the other team the finger during the game; if that didn’t work they would drive a monster truck onto the field and try and run them over

Instead of being interviewed by Jim Grey, athletes would insult him, tell him to shut up, and grab the mike and cut promos

While addressing the nation, President Bush would be attacked by Osama bin-Laden with a chair, setting up WrestleMania

Contract negotiations would be decided with a “ladder match”.

Flight attendants would pummel passengers who got obnoxious during a flight, followed by one or the other being physically thrown out of the aircraft door.

My level of job performance would be determinted by how many belts I’ve won in the past year. Also by how well I’m able to escape from the “Russian cross-over leg-lock”, how quickly I can recover from the “Brazillian Brain Buster” and how effectively I can apply my signature finishing move, the “Grizzly Grip”.

My son would follow in my footsteps and, in time, would inherit my ring-name, “Grizzly”. He’d wear the same mask and tights that I did and would ultimately change his ringname to “The Eternal Grizzly”.

Political figures would have to prove their worthiness in the ring. Wearing flashy costumes, shaving one’s head and having served in the Navy Seals would be pre-requisites. We’d start with something small… say, having one of ours become mayor of a small northern city, then move up to governor of, oh say… Minnesota. All the while, retaining the same type of cockiness and self-centeredness that made such a great presence in the ring.
.<oh, wait… scratch that last one…
it’d never work.>

I’d have killer pyro, that went off every time I entered the room.

I would have to watch out for the camera crew following me around during private conversations.

I’d would start my new job by blindsiding the guy I’m replacing, setting up the big grudge match at the next company picnic.

Instead of taking the elevator at work, I’d just jump off the balcony through the receptionists desk.

I would have a “Ho Train” waiting for me in every city. :slight_smile:

Badass theme music would play while I rode my Harley into my office every day.

My boss probably wouldn’t put me in a bra-and-panties conference, because I don’t think she digs that.

But, I could challenge the IT guy to a cage match for a new computer. (I could so take him!)

I would point my thumbs to myself everytime I said my name “HAR-DY-GRRL.”

Anytime I was about to finish a call at work, a coworker would blindside me and take over.

I would have brothers that did not resemble me in the slightest.

Anytime I would use a fire extinguisher, I would spray it in someone’s face first.

I would always have these items handy…a ladder, a table, a steel folding chair, a fire extinguisher, a two by four, street signs and a manniquin head.

Anytime my boyfriend got in an argument, I would nutshot the other guy.


Don’t go destroying mental pictures like that, what did you think we imagined you going to work in.

The good news is at 150 pounds I will, due to my superior speed, beat up on 4-500 pound guys on a regular basis.

…my boss would have had a chair over the back of his head by now.

I’d get rid of my boss by winnning a no-holds-barred, loser leaves town cage match.

Every year or two, I’d change my outfit and start using a new name. No one would every refer to me by any of my previous names.

  1. When I showed up to work and got out of my car, I’d frequently encounter violence before even entering the building.
  2. The early part of my day would be taken up with minor grudges, but the last part of the day would settle the major scores.
  3. I might be slugged by celebrities. I might get to slug celebrities.
  4. I know a certain unpleasant bookkeeper/co-worker who’d get the “stinkyface”!
  5. During manager’s meetings when things got especially tense, I’d blade for effect.
  6. The most electrifying move in managerial entertainment: The People’s Pinkslip!
  7. “To be the weekend manager you’ve got to beat the weekend manager!”
  8. Every few months, just when things started to get boring, I could get a new gimmick.
  9. Annoying neighbor whose dog barks all night would think he had thrown me over the ropes, but I would have caught them and flipped back into the ring. Meanwhile he would be looking the other way and smiling at his ringwormed mutt and then he’d turn around and have a priceless gaping look of shock as I dropkicked him into his swimming pool.
  10. When we beat the competitor store down the street in monthly sales, they’d have to cut off all their hair.