In the ’90s, WCW and WWE were the two dominant wrestling promotions. Some of the most popular acts at the top both companies were members of the Kliq, a group of influential, rebellious wrestlers who gave themselves this name:
HHH and Michaels rauled WWE as D-X, and Hall, Nash, and Sean Waltman ran the WCW as the NWO. The latter group often incorporated the “two sweet” hand gesture as pictured above. Though they inspired many imitators then, I suppose it wasn’t until enough time had passed for younger wrestlers to create an homage to the Kliq. This happened a few years ago in the New Japan promotion, and the group called itself Bullet Club:
You will notice the “too sweet”, crotch chop pose, and gun hand gesture all rolled up in one picture. When I first learned of Bullet Club, I wondered how it could possibly be an homage. Then I found out that all of the members are roughly my age and actually uttered “Oh. Well, then,” aloud.
Why am I telling you this? Because my wife is the best and worst person in my life. The two men at the ends in the front row of the second picture are the Young Bucks. They sell merchandise online, including these pair of leggings. The purchase of this item led to a text conversation that more or less defines our relationship.
Lynnette loves me and also loves to troll me. Unlike her daughters Avery and Madison, however, Lynnette picks her spots. She only chafes me about the things she knows I really care about.
We used her paypal to buy the leggings and she didn’t recognize the charge. Simple enough. I reminded her and just wanted her to too sweet me. But no. That would have been too easy. I thought it was a simple request, but nah, not in the capable hands of my wife.
Look at the smugness on the face of that piece of feces. I could feel Lynnette taunting me as soon as she sent it. You can see that I made the transition into ALL CAPS so as to let her know I was serious about getting too sweeted. And then she throws up the ear emoji to insinuate that she couldn’t hear me, but also to remind me that she never, ever listens to me in the first place, even if she’s not listening, but reading words of a frickin’ text message.
Then she decided to go all Edvard Munch on me with the mock shock/fear face. I countered this by calling her by her full first name, no babe, no baby, no Senster, no Sens, no Mom, no Mem, no Sexy Beast, no Hotness Everdeen, nope. But that didn’t stop her. She threw out the devil face – which I could only interpret to mean that she was being obtuse on purpose. Then, she confirmed by analysis by sending another popular hand gesture – which, by the way – may as well have just been a middle finger emoji at this point because, I mean, look at what she’s done! The smirk just pushed everything over the edge. She doesn’t just troll, she goes for total ownership of my soul.
I can’t quite remember how or why Lynnette came up with “Clown Dog”, but it is a term she uses to refer to Madison and me. Maybe she can explain it in this space later. Eventually, though, she threw up the too sweet. But then of course, even over text she had to roll her eyes at me. That’s just how she… rolls.
Lynnette knows me so well. She knows those precious few buttons to press that will set me off. It’s why she continues to assert that Abby’s favorite football team is the Giants, that her favorite player is Eli Manning. It’s why she hasn’t followed the Mets for years, but can still name Lastings Milledge and other Mets prospects who busted. It’s why she once made a Troy Aikman concussion joke that made me so upset (and was so good) I had to leave the room. It’s why she pretends she can’t find her Mets and Cowboys shirts on game days.
She really is the worst. But she’s also the best because eventually, she’s going to wear these leggings, and it is going to be glorious. And I am going to too sweet her cheeks all day. ALL DAY.