Posts Tagged ‘Cotto’

Post Pacquaio commentary. You know.

November 18, 2009 3 comments

So. Because I’m a dork, and on account of the minor incident where i damn near broke my arm, its only now that I got to watch The Pacquaio’s carnagery of this supposedly super middleweight person from the land of Dayanara Torres. Y’all prolly know this already, but yeah, it was fucking beautiful I had to wipe away a single tear that rolled ever so slowly from my eye. Potentially the most graceful thing I’ve seen in a long time that if it could wear a tutu, it might was well break into a fucking ballet routine. Ok, you fucking get the point.

Lemme tell you one thing about me: when i watch boxing, I turn into my dead lolo (my dad’s dad), who, despite his propensity to forget the most basic of things like shitting regularly or taking a bath more than once month, is our go-to guy for boxing stats. Not that I can churn out tales of the tapes or some commentator spiel like that. Quite on the contrary, nothing useful ever comes out of my mouth while watching, but, much like my lolo, I spit out expletives like a 60-year old sailor on crack.

Moving on. That first knockdown on the third round very nearly game me an orgasm. By the second knockdown on the fourth round, my nextdoor neighbor was already body-smashing my door, rushing to defend me from the akyat-bahay he imagined I was cursing at. I told him to fuck off.

After four rounds of exciting fight (coz admit it, after the fourth that was pretty much it for Tocino-face), I was ready to blog about this pretty amazing shit, but alas, my brain is refusing to cooperate and nothing remotely insightful is coming out. I can congratulate Manny, on the offchance that he might come across my blog, but decided against it coz thats just fucking retarded. This brings me to my new point: people should really stop expressing their pride being a Filipino because Manny is fucking amazing and shit like that, coz really, feeling good for a life and awesomeness that you can only dream about can only lead to two things: complete and utter disappointment that will eventually lead to suicide, or, buttloads of cash if you have millions to gamble away and a reliable bookie (which you probably dont, so thats just one thing for you). You can also get inspired and shit, uhh so yeah, good luck with that.

I think, in addition to the simple brutality of the sport that feeds our primal need to see blood, the business of boxing holds much appeal to us because of the loads of cash and serious blingage that comes with it. 13 million dollars for beating the crap out of another dude is pretty fucking spectacular. Course, with the cash and the bling comes the sex and the oh-so-amazing sex. So great fucking job, Krista Ranillo.

Admittedly, Pacman is looking mighty fine these days, coz holytits if with that amount of cash you cant make your face get from a 0 to a 10, you have a some serious problem and you should fire your plastic surgeon. Also, kill her dogs and burn her house down. If anything, I find his beard very sexy, and his overall glow uber hot.

So, Krista Ranillo, I do not believe that you are fucking Manny for the money alone. In fact, I tip my hat to you, because I dont think I will have the strength of persona to be able to hold it together if Manny, in the heat of unbearable passion, suddenly blurts out, “Yeah baby, yeah Im fucking close, I’m.. I’m.. I’mmmmmmmmmmmm cumminggggggg!!! YOUUUUUUUUUUUU KNOWWWWWWWW!!

Now you know.