There is but one full bath in our house. Which — depending on one’s perspective — can be a good thing or a bad thing. Most of the time it’s not a big deal…except when two girls and their guys are visiting, or when two of us are vying for the sink at the same time.
On the other hand, given the statistics that spouses speak to each other only 11 minutes a day, a single full bath per household might increase those numbers. Might increase the divorce rate too.
Anyway, today while wrestling with my husband for dibs on the sink, I learned that big time wrestling might have appeared at Bluffton High school some time in the 50s. My husband denies that this is a fictitious account created by either his mother or brother, both of whom have (had) a penchant for “telling” stories.
This discussion began by my husband declaring himself to be Dick the Bruiser. Gotta say my reaction was not very complimentary; in fact, I snorted. Couldn’t help myself. He appeared insulted for a moment, but came back to announce that no, in actuality, his hero was Bobo Brazil.
Okay, here’s the thing. I’m seven years younger than my husband. Sometimes I’m only six years younger, but I prefer the seven. So when he started in on Dick the Bruiser, The Sheik, Bozo Brazil…I had no clue. In fact, I was skeptical.
Apparently, Bobo was the one to perfect the “coco butt” (as in “headbutt”), which the husband demonstrated for me using the door as the “buttee”. Which considering his less-than-full head of hair, might not have been a wise move. But hey, who am I to interrupt a lecture on the biggies of big time wrestling.
It was about this point when he informed me that this is where he learned why he was just a half Nelson. (His father was the full Nelson.) Looking at me somewhat skeptically, he said, “You do know what a full-Nelson is, don’t you?”
Moi? Of course. I was schooled in the world of wrestling as a BHS student, thanks to that hunky math teacher/wrestling coach Sam Bello. He introduced BHS to wrestling. The boys wrestled their hearts out. We girls watched (the coach) with great seriousness.
So I could honestly tell my husband that yes indeed, I do know what a full Nelson and a half Nelson are. I know what cauliflower ear looks like (thanks to my friend, Tony), and I know I’m supposed to cheer really loud when my guy pins the other guy.
But Bobo Brazil? The Sheik? Dick the Bruiser? In Bluffton? And now in my bathroom? Still contemplating that whole picture.