'Cause I Need Beer Money

LLLLLET'S GET RRRRREADY TO RRRRUUUMMMMMMBBBBLLLLLE

Yesterday was a mighty good day. However, it involved wrestling, and wrestling related stories. If you have no interest in wrestling, or wrestling related stories, please read on regardless. Those of you have no interest in words, like Chris Gurney to whom if it ain't numbers he don't care, or Alex Holden to whom if it ain't 'tits' he don't care, then there is still reason to peruse. There are plenty of pretty pictures to see of Adam Marshall and his art work. Observe.

So yesterday was the big day. The Royal Rumble. If you thought it sad enough of me to come all the way to Miami to see wrestling, then think again. I made signs you see. Really bad signs. It's the what I do.

Here's one (I knew I should have gone for 'X-Pac = Ratings).




And here's another (this time featuring my face as an added bonus/horror).

The best bit of the afternoon was when Ron 'Farooq' Simmons was wandering about outside the arena. Loads of people were trying to get his autograph, but he spotted my A.P.A. t-shirt. The A.P.A., or Acolyte Protection Agency, was a tag-team that he used to be a part of, along with the man now known as John Bradshaw Layfield. So he shouts, "Hey, that guy's wearing my t-shirt". He comes over and says, "So do you wanna be part of the protection agency?", and I was like "Why the heck not, yea, go on then". Then he signed the back of one of my signs and posed for this photo with me. It doesn't sound like much but John Picken and Rikki da Hearn may have slight interest. Awesome.

Then I watched the Royal Rumble, which was extremely impressive. Wonderful. Here are my Midnight Marshall Mark-out Moments:

1. Seeing Mr Kennedy...Kennedy
2. Meeting Ron Simmons
3. Seeing a little girl's sign supporting 'The Heart Brake Kid, Shane Mickels'
4. Paul London
5. Some guy near me saying 'Of course, you do know that there have been two Kanes. Yea, the first one got put in prison for murdering somebody'.
6. Benoit
7. R.V.D.
8. The surprise appearance from somebody near the end of the Rumble match
9. Everything that happened after the Henry v. Angle match

Thanks for listening/looking.

Kind regards

Adam 'Entrant #30' Marshall

Everywhere you go...Classic Crowded House

I went to the beach today.

It rained, so I went inside.

I had a shave.

I went back to the beach.

It was sunny, so I sunbathed.

I mused, for the rest of the day, whether there was any connection between me shaving and the sun coming out.

Probably not, I concluded.

Here is a label that I found in my hostel room:



It is pretty accreate. For example, I often utilize the "I'm a student" discount; the "Yes, of course my mum/dad works here. Would I really lie about something as important as that" discount; and the "That's strange. The shop over yonder said that they'd be able to do me the same deal but for the fraction of the price. Do you really want to lose a customer to them?" discount.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

God Saves...He's obviously a very sensible young man

Hey yo.

I went to see a band before I left Seattle. Their name was the Elected. I recommend everybody, and I mean everybody, if you get the chance, do your very, very best to avoid seeing them. Apparently the venue that I saw them at was a regular haunt of a band called The Nirvanas or something back in the day. If that is the case then I imagine that Mr Kurt Cobain is having what is known as a (and apologies for the profanity) 'tearful wank' (the definition for which can be found in Viz's Profanosaurus) in his grave right now.

Then I went to Miami. Tis hot here, very hot. The city is very much as it appears in the excellent video game 'Grand Theft Auto: Vice City'. For example, we drove through a poor looking part of it and it felt as though a turf war between the Haitians and the Cubans was bound to break out any moment. That made me feel relatively unsafe.

The hostel room that I am staying is also adding to my feeling of unsafetitude. This is mainly due to the residents including a large German man called Eduard; a young lad trying to convince me that God is watching all I say and do, and that I should follow the righteous path to the kingdom of our Lord, that's Joshua; and also a guy called Lawrence, the kind of name that I just connect with unpredictability.

But all's good. Went to see the Miami Heat get trounced at basketball yesterday by the Phoenix Suns. That pissed off a lot of locals which I found amusing.

Buh-Bye, I've gotta go and hit the beach.

Kind Regards.

Adam Marshall

Superbowl; Seahawks; Detroit

Another post. They're coming thick and fast now. Mainly thick though, I'm sure you'll agree.

So yea, I ended up in Seattle eventually. Nice place, friendly people, bad weather. In fact it's a little bit like England, except it's nice and with friendly people (is this a Midnight Devil heel turn in the making. Doubtful).

The local American Football team - the Seattle Seahawks - played in a match which would determine whether they made the all important Superbowl, on the evening I arrived here. This was a match which they won, and as a result the whole city exploded...into street parties and general mayhem. I'm not sure whether the atmosphere in the streets was an electric furore of excitement and euphoria; or simply loads of large people shouting "Superbowl", "Seahawks" and "Detroit" in a loud and intrusive way. At the time it seemed like the first option, but on further reflection, the latter seems more probable. I tried to join in the fun, as you can see below.

Now a few people have been anxious that I have not yet encountered any of the people I was attempting to meet. I say to those people, "Be patient, muppets. All in good time my pretties". In the mean time though, enjoy this picture of a stool I sat next to as I ate my lunch yesterday. I think I can still see double Oscar winning actor Tom Hanks's left buttock print. But more importantly, can anybody guess which films he won those Oscars for, and for which other three films he was unsuccesfully nominated. And the years. If you don't cheat, this could be a fun game. Seriously, try it, you might like it.

Ok, enough Tom Foolery.

Kind Regards.

Adam 'the Midnight Devile' Marshall

Greyhound; An Experience

After my last post, I know what everybody is thinking. You're thinking, "How the hey did you get to Seattle". Well, here's the answer.

It all started at San Francisco's 'Transbay' bus station. Certainly, it's one of the very scariest places I've ever been to. The kind of place where the homeless laugh at you as you walk by. What have they got to laugh about? Maybe it was the clothes that I was wearing, who knows? One other thing I noticed about this place, there were far too many people working there with the surname Garcia. This was especially worrying when you consider that this was one of the main reasons why I left working for R.B.S. I'm kidding of course, there weren't that many people working at the bus station called Garcia.

Arriving at Sacramento station seemed more welcoming; thanks largely to it being directly adjacent to a place called Marshall Hotel. This was comforting for the obvious moniker-based reasons. However, there are far too many people in those stations who are far too overly prepared to divulge far too much personal information about themselves. I'm sure having a an alcoholic, smack addicted ex-wife is tough, Geoff from Reno, Nevada. I only wished I'd stepped in and advised him that after separating from her four years ago, that his least advisable move was to accept the woman's request to stay for a while with him and his new wife. Don't do it lad. It's gonna end in tears. And possibly blood.

The bus due for Seattle was packed, I'm talking people standing up. Considering I was gonna be on this thing for the next 18 hours, that was not a fun prospect. Fortunately for me I bonded with the fella I was sat next to. I enjoyed his sarcasm, or sarcasma as I'm now choosing to call it, when commenting that, "Perfection is rarely achieved, but I think we've found it", as a couple of chaps behind us began beat boxing and rapping, while the baby in front of us started to wail for it's so-called 'Mummy'. Idiot. My neighbor was wrong of course, because perfection was only truly achieved when he began to snore at my face. My left ear claimed, at the time, that this man was the loudest snorer in the world. My other faculties denied this, knowing full well that my father, Terry Alfred Marshall, holds that title.

He left a couple of hours later. He claimed he felt refreshed. I shouted I didn't care. In my head. He was suitably replaced with a woman. She was holding some kind of baby. I'm not sure which kind, but definitely a baby, of that I have no doubt. I can say this with conviction because only a baby would have the sheer audacity to punch and kick me (ok, maybe Hilly would as well) and to shout and whine in such close quarters (yep, again Hilly, does tend to do that) for hours and hours and hours (not Hilly this time; the little scamp tends to tire himself out after an hour or so). I also felt that resting your baby's head
on the elbow of a total stranger with a weird kind of neck beard was ill advised and lacked the tenacity of a good parent. However, I know about as much about parenting as I do about Law. Not much at all.

Anyway, I got to Seattle, and that's it. 21 hours was the length, on the scale of t (which represents time). I'll tell you about this place sometime. Something for you to look forward to. Until then, here is a photo that I took of me towering over Seattle. You will see the 'Space Needle' in the background, which is a famous tower that towers over the buildings of Seattle. The reason that I am towering over it is because I'm standing on the 73rd floor of the U.S. Bank Tower which is the tallest tower on the West Coast of North America and so towers over all of the other towers in the area. Tower.


Alrighty then.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Won't the tracks all break and bend...Not on your life my Hindu friend

I arrived in Seattle...


monorail, monorail, monorail, monorail, monorail, monorail, monorail...


MONORAIL, MONORAIL, MONORAAAAIIILLL...MONO-d'oh

Outstanding

Greetings.

I went to Las Vegas the other day. Twas a good bash for sho'. Granted, I didn't see any former U.S. presidents, but it was still an awesome few days. I developed quite an addiction to the craps (no Mum, that isn't a rude word) tables. However, I managed to lose a fair sum of money on said tables which was crap (yes Mum, that is a rude word).

We met some characters there as well. We had Ron, the most incompetent check-in desk worker in the world who we're guessing has probably been sacked since our visit; Mike, the most polite bouncer who you'll ever have the pleasure of getting kicked out of a club by; and Randy, the slightly unhinged gun range worker who got a little too excited at me shooting pictures of his ex girlfriend (pictured below) with guns. Outstanding.

Oh yea, John Baker was there as well.

At the shooting range, I thought it was nice that they also accommodated disabled wannabe commandos.

One thing that amused me when viewing the comments on my first blog entry was the kind of heel heat (wrestling term, look it up) that my right honorable brother, Ben Marshall, was generating. I'd be very interested to know who called him a 'saddo' (although I have a couple of ideas) and we'll get you both set up in a Hell in a Cell (wrestling term, look it up) match to end this feud.

Alright, that's enough.

Kind regards to all.


Adam Marshall

Wrestling Fan

California, California, Cali-wooooo

Bam!!

Hello there, Adam Marshall here again. I imagine that none of you had wondered where the hey I've been for the last few days or so, apart from Hilly, so I'll use this medium to tell Simon Hill the where I've been in that period.

When I left you last we went to the Hardrock Cafe for some luncheon. Nothing out of the ordinary I hear Tom Erskine cry. Well when you consider that this is the place where the famous Jenny used to work, it becomes a different matter (Picken might wanna read that in a Ray Liotta style). Anyway, she wasn't there. The end.

In San Fran we saw the Golden Gate Bridge, which was marginally better than Swarkestone Bridge. We saw Pier 39 which was marginally better than Pierce Brosnan. And we saw some seals, which was marginally better than seeing acne ridden crooner Seal.

Seeing the seals lying there, doing absolutely nothing, staring at passers by reminded me of being back at Uni. Very funny. The difference being, when I was at uni I wasn't basking in the sunlight of Pier 39. But then again, in our own little way, I think that we are all basking in the sunlight of Pier 39. I'll leave you to think about that.

One man who certainly never repeats a joke in two consecutive blog entries is 39th president of the U.S.A. Jimmy Carter. Incidentally, Pick and I saw history's greatest monster in a book shop in San Fran signing copies of his shoddy looking book. Good for him.

We went to L.A. It was cool. Went to Newport Beach where I saw Sandy and Seth and Ryan and Summer. Classic the O.C.

Also, obviously we checked out Hollywood Boulevard where all the stars are. Below, you'll see an example of such a star. It displays the name of Herb Alpert. Not a name that you find particularly familiar? Find and download a song called Spanish Flea by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Then you'll understand one man's genius just a little bit more fully.

It might be wise to leave things there for now. Firstly, I imagine I'm boring people quite thoroughly by now. Secondly, there is no finer way to leave a blog entry than on the thought of Herb Alpert. I bid you, please download that song.

Alright, you can go now. I'll be back tomoz on news of a Vegas trip and with a shout out for my big bro, one Ben Marshall.

Bye bye now, and kind regards.

Adam Marshall.

Never Gonna Ride It, Never Gonna Ride It

Hello again.

I went to America in the end. I almost didn't. Not through my choice of course, but rather via the choices made by a man called John 'Muscles' Baker. He, for example, made the choice not to set his alarm in the morning. This may seem like a trivial point, but when you consider he was due to awaken at 4:30 on Thursday morning to pick me and Picken up to drive to Heathrow where we hoped to catch a plane, the consequences could have been serious. Fortunately, the only detrimental results of his late consciousness, were some angry faces behind the check in desk and an undesirable sprint through terminal 3 to gate 42, which by the way, in case anybody plans to arrive at Heathrow late and are leaving from that particular gate, is the one at the very far end of the airport.

Still at least we knew that we had the chance to sit down for a while at the end of our run. Yep, 12 hours was just enough time to get our breath back. So we spent pretty much a day sat eating and watching films, and T.V. programs, and playing computer games. Hang on, I know this one: it was pretty much like being back at Uni. Very funny. The difference being when we I was playing computer games at uni I wasn't traveling at hundreds of miles per hour over the Atlantic Ocean. But then again, in our own little way, I think that we are all always traveling at hundreds of mile per hour over the Atlantic Ocean. I'll leave you to think about that.

And at this point, I'll leave you also with the task of trying to forget the nasty little incident that was this blog posting. The chaps have gone gallivanting out on bicycles across the Golden Gate Bridge. I made another choice, which was not to join them (for obvious reasons I think). The guy at the bike hire store suggested maybe we hire a tandem, then I could just sit at the back and do nothing. But then, the other guy there reminded us that two men on a tandem in the gay capital of the world may be inadvisable. We agreed.

Ta-ta for now.

Kind regards.


Adam Marshall L.L.B.

Hello.


My name is Adam Marshall. This is a blog. I will be using this to record and explain my actions, emotions, thoughts, and dreams for the future during a 90 day trip I will be taking. This time will be spent in the United States of America, with the remote plausibility of spending time in Canada and Mexico.

If reading this blog is something that you think might interest you, then feel free to continue reading as I update it on a day-to-day basis. If you can envisage that you will not fancy reading about Adam Marshall and what Adam Marshall does and whether Adam Marshall will continue to talk about himself in the third person, then it might be better that you do not continue to read it. I'm giving you this get out clause now so that you don't start whining on at a later date about how bored it has made you feel. Galey, AlexForce, Dave 'the Bastard' Chinnock, it's people like you I'm directing this towards. I'm just trying to help, dammit.

I cannot promise that my script will be funny or interesting, which is maybe the proviso that Catherine Tate should have issued when pitching her inexplicably award winning series to T.V. execs (Ha. Burn!), but I can promise that it'll be written by I, Adam Marshall, with mostly truths. Also, a warning: sometimes I make jokes that offend people. For example; "Hilly, you ginger twat", or "Gurney, I hate you". Such comments are never intended to hurt feelings, so my massive apologies. Another warning: often I make jokes that aren't funny. Sorry.

Ok, that's it. If ya fancy coming back, please do. If anybody fancies hitting me...with some e-mails then feel free at midnight_marshall@hotmail.com. Don't feel obliged, I won't think any worse of you if you don't. Especially, Jon Turner and John Steele who frankly I can't think any worse of anyway.

Bye then, I've got packing to do, or rather watch mother do.

See you soon, and kind regards.


Adam 'the Midnight Devil' Marshall