You’d think I’d be all into the WWE since they’re in the business of serving up drama queen theatrics, staged cat fights, man nipple-to-man nipple action and Spandex-swathed crotches, but I’m not. So this is the time first that my retinas have been singed by the glorious ginger god from Ireland Sheamus! (My ho stroll nickname is Shame Ass. It’s meant to be!)
The only thing I know about Sheamus is that he body slammed a trick at the WWE Smack Down in Dublin last night, has epic thighs that look like a whole chicken getting pulled out of a can, can make lighting by clapping his ass cheeks (I read this in the mythology section of Wiki), can keep a small village warm with the flaming hearth on his head and when he flutters his eyelashes it looks like two fireflies dancing in the night. I know that last part, because I made a flip book with these pictures. Yes, that’s Sheamus’ cue to head directly to the restraining order office.
And to answer your question, yes, I already Photoshopped my smiling face and gut on this picture.