Ultimate Fighting is Homo-erotic

It is.  Roman-Greco wrestling was too.  Shining male bodies, scantily-clad puting each other in very compromising, tight, contortionist positions.  Looks like foreplay to me.

We went to the cage fights Saturday night.  Admittedly, it was very exciting, lots of adrenaline.  What I noticed was that these fighters were small, out of shape, physically confusing to me.  I’ve dated guys fresh out of prison that were true scrappers.  There is a lot of money to be made as a trainer, as a steady supplier of contenders, or fight promotions.   After the drinks loosened me up, I told Leggs we should look into it.

The ringside table was pimp.  The table service was money.  Big money.  At the end, the tab resembled a five-star restaurant bill.  I shot myself in the foot by going stag.  I could’ve at least split it.  Seven dollar beers, ouch.

Sunday was mother’s day.  Wonder what she is up to.  Wonder how long my stubbornness will get the best of me.  Wonder if I will admit all that is necessary for me to have peace.  Wonder if she thinks about me too.   Mothers.  Such a hold they have on us.  They can give up on us, hit the pipe, and sleep away our memory, and yet their touch is a blanket of warmth and refuge.  Just because they gave us life, our life is never complete without them.  What a price we sometimes pay.

Jason came over at the crack this morning.  I stayed up until midnight cleaning.  He’s so good at worshipping parts of me.  Just not the parts I would prefer him to worship.  I wasn’t even close to asking him the questions that have plagued me about this man.  He drives me nuts.  How dare I let my political enemy get the best of me.  I guess I am just keeping him close for now, as the saying would have it.  Promoted to commander, on his way to corporal.  Jason’s ambition is frightening, slightly enviable.  He asked why Gotti is not trained yet.  I guess that’s how things are in his world.  Everything is trained, follows orders, understands duty, and the only goal is to complete the mission.  Here I am…everything unruly, my home, my dog, my life.   Whatever, I didn’t sign up for any of that shit, he did.  He gets my gratitude, he was tasting it on his lips and chin on his way to work this morning…haha.  

Ok…so my gourd friend?  We think it’s a Japanese game show she’s been chosen for.  Hilarious.  At least it’s syndicated.