This is going to be a sport-related blog, so for those of you who don’t like sports, go ahead on and find something else to do with your time. Go macramé yourself a quilt or milk a goat or do some scrapbooking or whatever the hell it is that people do when they aren’t watching sports or talking about them.
Scrapbooking? I just don’t get it. Sure it’s nice to have a book that you can go to and reference all the good times you’ve had when there just happened to be a camera along with you while you were drunk. But you know what else is fun? Going out and actually having a good time that you might take pictures of and one day put in a scrapbook. Then, on that Sunday afternoon when you were going to go spend the afternoon with 79 sheets of multi-colored paper, a shoebox full of pictures, a Matchbox 20 CD and 19 different types of glue spread out across your bed, you take all that stuff, put it in a drawer and go out and get drunk instead.
Trust me, it will be just as much fun. If not more. Just make sure you bring a camera. And put a Matchbox 20 song on the jukebox, just for fun.
The thing with scrapbooks, and pictures in general, is that the only purpose they seem to serve is giving you a reference to how skinny you used to be or how small your puppy/baby/lawn/beer gut used to be. Who needs that? The only thing I need telling me how cute I USED to be is my own skewed memory, not some piece of hard evidence that could one day be used against me in a court of law.
Which brings me to my point, which is that pretty much everything we do is just a waste of time anyway. Honestly, everything we are doing, or going to do, is just something to pass the time away while we wait to die. Especially scrapbooking.
Is that a downer or what?
That wasn’t really my point. The whole reason I started writing this thing was because I thought of something I thought was really clever last night and I decided that my fragile ego needed to get that thought out into the cyber world.
We watched the EliteXC fights last night on CBS. Kimbo Slice was the main headliner and he got TKO’d in 14 seconds by a guy who used to be the UFC heavyweight champion. No big deal there, because I had been saying he was a fraud all along and I couldn’t wait for him to fight somebody who knew what the hell they were doing instead of some bum off the streets.
Nope, the big news was the Gina Carano fight. I don’t know the name of the girl she fought against, and that’s kind of the point. The only reason I know who Gina Carano is results from the fact that she is hot. Like crazy hot. Like “I wish she would pose in Playboy” hot (you hear me Hef? Get on that, stat!).
In the pre-fight interview, the lady interviewing Gina had a quote along the lines of, “I think you are living proof that girls want to open up a can of Whoop Ass every now and again. You really inspire a lot of girls to go out there and open one up.”
First off, I don’t think that’s very professional for an interviewer to drop the name of a product like that without proper compensation. Second, the only reason a lot of guys EVER watch girl fights is that they really and truly hope that at some point a boob will pop out of a top. Never mind that Gina Carano actually has skills beyond being an American Gladiator and could probably punch the life out of me without even breaking a sweat OR putting her hair in cornrows first.
The reason I watched those fights last night was to see Gina Carano in any way, shape or form (but the most preferable form would have been topless or at least a little bit chilly in her form-fitting shirt) and to see Kimbo Slice get beat by somebody who actually knows what the hell they are doing in the ring.
Last night’s real winner? Me. Hell yeah. Except for the topless part. Curses!
Which brings me to my REAL point in this blog. Isn’t it good that Whoop Ass comes in a can? If it only came in jars, girls wouldn’t be able to open it. They’d have to give it to a man to open for them. Then what would we watch on TV?
Lucky us.
I wonder if Gina Carano will scrapbook the press clippings for her win last night?
B!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
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