I hate you so fuckin’ hard.
Really. Do I have to do this? I mean it’s Saturday night. I’m sitting home alone after watching the horrible abomination that was UFC 120 and the intellectually challenged yahoos in the building next door are having a party and being loud, stupid and annoying. In other words, I’m filled with vitriol and venom and seething hatred.
‘But it’s just a bunch of fights, dude. Why don’t you just…’ -Why don’t you shut up before I tear your face off and glue it back on upside down! Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay… I’m sorry. Deep breath. Just because one of my favorite fighters, the dreamy badass Dan Hardy, got totally KO-ed in the first round and Sexyama, who is made of awesome (and sexy, obviously) lost to the fairly unlikable Michael Bisping and now might get cut from the UFC, why get all emotional about it? I mean Sexyama will just go home to Japan where he’s a superstar and have sex with his model girlfriend or wife or both. And Dan Hardy’s not going anywhere anytime soon… it’ll be okay. And the jerks next door that just got done chanting, “Go white boy” for reasons I don’t even want to try and understand will probably die of stupid. Oh yeah, stupid isn’t necessarily fatal. Good work, evolution!