IiiiiiIIIIt’s TIIIIIIIIIIIIME!

So we’ve decided we’d like to make our little UFC gathering on Saturday a bit more of an event. C’mon over, we’ve got a guaranteed tensome. There hasn’t been a fight in a while, first of all, and this one promises to be another satisfyingly bloody embarrassment for one of our favorite jerkoffs.

Secondly, it’s CJ’s birthday. Don’t make the kitten cry.

We’re thinking the standards–some beer, some booze, maybe some nachos? Something like that. Sound good? See you there? It’s going to be a Deelio-riffic Big J/Little J/Krazy K kind of group. You know you don’t want to miss that.

(Seriously: Jon Jones has almost a 10-inch reach advantage on Rashad Evans. This is going to be epic, as the kids say.)

Don’t forget your game card.

If you can’t come, you can still play along at home. Here’s how it works:

Drink a Four Loko. Then a beer. Fill out your sheet. Wait for the fights to start. (Drink another beer.)

Watch 135-pound fighters whirling around the ring. Put a big red X through your first fight predictions. Watch 145-pound fighters whirling around the ring. Put a big red X through your second fight predictions. Pour a Jack and Coke. Explain to the cat the benefits of the butterfly guard.

Watch your third pick take a widdle nappy-nap on the canvas. Submit to the appropriateness of two-fisting while watching combat sports.

Rally shot? AWESOME idea.

Kitteh refuses to learn proper kimura technique. Bandage face. Add beer. To stop the swelling.

Watch fourth fight. Check your picks. Ponder why you picked “Round 8, minute 3r1rsosfjsmmmthhfhrss” in a three-round fight. Give yourself 10 bonus points. For being awesome.

Watch fifth fight. Ponder how the cat has more correct picks than you do. Edit your sheet to declare Joe “Rogaine” Rogan the loser in every fight. 10 more bonus points.

“Rogaine sucks!”

Develop a drinking game centered on Joe Rogan sucking. Develop a shot called “Joe Rogan Sucks.” Develop a plan for marketing your shot recipe until you’re interrupted by Joe Rogan sucking.

“Shots!!!”

Leave remote with cat; take a widdle nappy-nap.

Wake up to Animal Planet Late Night. Change channel back to Pay-Per-View. Scold cat. Order pizza.

Discover half-finished beer behind a book shelf. Go ahead and assume it’s yours.

Watch…wait, which fight is this?

Eat pizza off game sheet. Ponder why pizza has more correct picks than you do.

Ooh! Main event?! Yay!

Declare yourself the new Official Voice of the Octagon. “IiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIt’s TIIIIIIIIIIIME!!!!!”

Make yourself some hot tea with lemon. And honey. And…blue curacao?

Try to google Jon Jones’ tattoo. Fall asleep midway through typing “Phillillippippiansssss.”

Wake up to Mike Goldberg shouting “IT’S ALL OVER!” Assume he’s got a point there. Apologize to cat.

Blame Herb Dean for ending your night prematurely. Go to bed.

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “IiiiiiIIIIt’s TIIIIIIIIIIIIME!

  1. HAHAHAHAH, the running gags in the blog killed me! Wish I was in the same time zone. As is we’ll be sure to drink plenty of beers “in honor of the fight.” (Because otherwise we…wouldn’t? Right. šŸ™‚

  2. Huh. Well this entry was strangely prescient, actually…

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