let’s go chronologically.
i know this will come as a huge shock to everyone, but i am not really into them. there is a chart in heaven that shows how after a certain body mass, as percentage of muscle tone increases, capacity for love decreases. it’s just too much to overcome when trying to get turned on. call me idealistic.
a similar equation exists with a man’s knowledge of cars. as it increases, the more likely he is to impregnate a teenager. but i digress.
that being said, Roger Huerta.
The fam and I joined Ashland’s finest at BW3s Saturday night to catch a UFC match.
UFWhaaa? I know.
At first, I was more than skeptical about this scenario. there were several groups of bearded long-haired dudes who had arrived early and were hitting on the waitresses when we sat down at our table. i knew in 20 minutes or so, Joe Rogan would explain how some boys were kicking the crap out of each other.
but then, something strange happened.
my sister explained the rules and some biographical information about some of the fighters. i noticed that before and after the matches, the fighters would sometimes sit in the middle of the ring and chat with each other. apparently “mixed martial artists” have deep respect for one another. in the “main event” the giant french-canadian fighter got knocked out by the tiny american guy in the first round.
in other words, i am a giant UFC fan now. once a month, i might consider buying a $45 pay-per-view fight. and now that UFC has incorporated Pride, we should get some really good match-ups. i can’t wait to root loudly against the minority/foreign fighter.
Strangely enough, Joe Rogan came up again at church.
If there were a top ten list for ‘signs you are missing your relationship with Jesus Christ,’ I think ‘crying at a cheesy Easter play at your parents giant mega-church’ would be No. 1. Tears also attempted to flow through the ‘Fear Factor’-themed sermon. wow.
seriously, the sermon was alright, but my reaction was pathetic.
whenever i encounter any type of Holy Spirit of the Lord Almighty, my instant reaction is uncontrollable tears. this is particularly hilarious because crying in front of people is, to me, way worse than being naked. so i yawn, i fake allergies and irritants, i rub my eyes, i do everything to hide the fact that the water might be coming out of my upper face area. but to no avail. pride usually falls, and then i’m post-partum kirstie alley.
i tell you this now because i’m secretly glad that god has the power to break me down like that. most men — and even some guitar-wielding ladies — can’t do it. i said SOME.
so church was nice. does anybody else have anything to talk about?
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