My name is Leslie, and I am a wrestle-aholic. The first step to recovery is acknowledging that you have a problem, but frankly, I don't care. I love wrestling, wrestlers and everything that goes along with this fantastic sport. If watching a wrestling match is a disease, I hope they never find a cure.



I watch all the different wrestling organizations on TV, but my favorite has to be our local SABYWF?the Southern Arizona Back-Yard Wrestling Federation. Most of their bouts aren't actually televised, so I go see ?em live every chance I get. My girlfriend Kay-Kay and I cruise around southern Arizona following the tour and our favorite wrestlers.

Kay-Kay's favorite is the Flyin? Hawaiian, a very tall, very muscular Polynesian wrestler who moved to Arizona after a short stint in the army. I find him handsome and all, but my favorite is Wildcat Jackson. He's a dreamy 6? 7?, 325 lb mountain of masculinity that makes otherwise-normal women squeal on site.

After repeatedly trying to meet the Wildcat, I'd given up hope on ever getting to know him. His manager, wrestling bad guy Jumbo Jenkins, has a policy about letting fans backstage?unless they're sporting 38 double-Ds anyway. Well, one night after the fights, Kay-Kay and I stopped at the 7-11 for some road supplies. And, guess who was their picking up a 12-pack of post-bout pain reliever? That's right; the Wildcat!

Paralyzed by fear, I still didn't say anything to him. But, he was driving 2006 Chevy Silverado, just like me! I couldn't believe that my idol and hopeful future husband drove the same rig as me. Of course, Wildcat's was lifted to the sky and equipped with huge mud tires. But this gave me an idea.

According to the SABYWF schedule, the tour was coming to a backyard in my neighborhood. I decided to lift my truck just like Wildcat's and facilitate another ?chance meeting.? I figured he couldn't resist me if he could see what a huge fan I am. So, Kay-Kay and I sold some clothes on E-bay and pooled our next few paychecks to buy the lift kit and tires for my Silverado.

I decided to buy the Rancho Complete Lift Kit. It provides 4-full inches of lift, comes with everything I need and it lets me slip a set of gnarly 35? tires underneath. Rancho is the number-one name in suspension, which really helped in my decision. We had a few bucks left over from the E-bay money, so I tossed in a set of Bushwacker Fender Flares to buff up my truck's stance a bit. There was no way Wildcat could resist me now.

Fight night came and I was ready. Kay-Kay and I followed Wildcat after the fight, hoping he'd go to the 7-11 again. Unfortunately, he stopped at the TGIF to pick up his girlfriend. Girlfriend! How could he have a girlfriend?! Without thinking I jumped from my lifted Silverado and grabbed that girl by the hair. I don't know what got into me, but I lifted her skinny butt over my head and body slammed her to the pavement. Then I slapped Kay-Kay's hand, tag-team style, and watch her put that hussy into a sleeper hold.

Next thing I know, Kay-Kay and I are in the back of a police cruiser, arrested for assault and battery. Needless to say, Wildcat won't have anything to do with me, at least not until I'm off probation. But, in the end, my truck's got a killer-looking lift and I'm still attending SABYWF wrestling matches, where I cheer my fighting idols on to victory.