"Buttahface"

US Navy American professional iron man athlete Karl Gillingham spots Hospital Corpsman 2nd Class Ardinis Strickland. As an added bonus, try picking out the least attractive white guy in the photo as part of the game. You will win no prize, whatsoever. Nothing at all. Maybe some backlash.

I had kind of a great weekend. The weather was cooler at night, which makes for good sleeping, and boxing was on during daylight savings time, also very good for humans without that pesky circadian rhythm disorder known as "Manic Depression". In other words, this mommy watched boxing for free on a local t.v. station she gets with her digital antenna without using drugs to stay awake. Yay! I know, right? Girls, I know you feel me on this one. What planet do they live on? Baffling...

Anyway, back to the show. The boxing matches were a highly competitive weight class, and the talent was fierce. One handsome young man was sharp right out of the gate. I could tell by the condition he was in that he would win, and win he did, within the first minute of the first round, which is rare for boxing (not so much for MMA, but they are different professional sports). On a side note, they were televised from Foxwoods*, which helps to line the pockets of my Connecticut natives, who definitely owe me a cut of the profits for babysitting one very particular and highly disordered Mohegan/Cayugan/European disaster that my tribe did not create, because white man's "Fire Water" still does him and his kind wrong in this century, and they choose not to adapt or die. But, you know, also for solidarity's sake and stuff.

So, it was with great delight that I watched some experienced talent make their way through the day's fights. Another strong standout young man fighting out of Brooklyn was the favored fighter, for all the right reasons. His technique is excellent. He fought an Australian "Aboriginal"-type youngster of less experience, who had to be carried out of the ring, which sucks for the fighters and fans alike. It's not the kind of outcome anyone wants. But, the fight's doc assured the announcer that he was responsive on the way out, which is a great sign for his recovery. He'll go back to Australia with a much better idea about American sports, which is critical for a 23 year old.

This also handsome Brooklyn fighter had some flair, like you'd expect to tune into as representing freshness from the 'hood. Him and his crew sported wild python-like outfits in various colors (flashy, yo!), and after his show was over, he threw out swag to the audience, which is always the right thing to do in business, kids. Free stuff wins over the crowd every single time, and I LOVED his presence of mind about his chosen profession. But then, something very strange happened. The camera panned to the thin attendance in the seats (daylight hours being horrible to illicit cretins and all), and this really funny-looking Pimp Daddy with a big hat and polyester suit (I shouted out "HuggyBear!" to the t.v. in true ghetto-style...yeah, it was that much fun), with his banged-up looking white bitches....or so I thought.

Turns out, the back-story about this boxing gentleman was about his recent hiatus from the sport (they always spout shit about "cage rust" to fill up the time: it's an urban myth), due to the birth of his child. In most modern circles, this is also known as Maternity Leave. Ah, so what? Papa needs a brand new bag for baby. Good on him for doin' the right thing for his girl. Most guys ain't stand-up about an unplanned pregnancy, IMHO (and a big "Fuck you!" to "Scooter" for tossing me that bullshit acronym in a supposed "business" email. I know you read me, bitch). Life happens. And then, the camera scrolled back to my suited-up ole gansta with what I thought was his crew, but, OMIGOD was I wrong, because underneath this average white girl's pic was her MARRIED NAME to this handsome, successful Africa-American boxer.

Alright, let's work this out together. Yo, part of keeping your team together is letting your homeboy know that banged-up broad is an international flavor that transcends skin tone, and that my man now his HER GENETICS on his baby's face. Part of being a good teammate is keeping the ugly groupies away while your man trains. I mean, WTF Brooklyn? He found that in Brooklyn? You could walk half a block and find ten honeys betta than Miss Coyote Ugly 2015, which leads me to the next fabulous piece of ghetto-truth: beauty only mates with ugly when crazy is involved, and a strong one at that. Doubt me? OK, follow this link to see which famous actress** is married to what the sea done drug up and washed onto the beach from Down Under, because girlfriend needs funding for her vanity projects, hotel rooms, award show gowns, and most importantly, pricey uninsured meds.

Booyah backatcha. Don't mess with mami, boys. I know all them tricks. Y'all been schooled, so don't let yer boy roll with that banged-up bisexual cheerleader just cuz you won the trophy, and homeboy deserves a good time, even if it's with that thing (um, cheerleader) lookin' for a paycheck with the Mrs. Degree she wants to graduate with. Being head quarterback ain't all that. It's hard work carryin' your ass on any given Sunday, so don't get yo' boy drunk and pair him with ugly just as payback for "da game". I am so onto you. You gotta create the total package, coach. That's training for life.

See it here: http://bit.ly/1W5BSIi

For more tips about how to be a good friend, please follow along with these choice, highly-styled lyrics from back in the day:

Take It Off 
De La Soul 

(It's hurting.)
(Smell your breath!)
(You smell like Jabba.)
(Your nose is what's doing it.)
(You're talking into the recording... YO!)
(Okay Lucky, start it off.)

Take take take take take it off...
Take it off, take take take take it off
Take it off, take take take take it off
Take it off, take take take take it off
Take it off
Take it OFF!
(Take that suede front off)
Take it OFF!
(Take those contacts off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that horsemeat off)
Take it OFF!
(Take those shell-toes off)
Take it OFF!
(Take those track fleas off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that doo-rag off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that moth neck off)
Take it OFF!
(Take those fat laces off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that bomber off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that BVD off)
Take it OFF!
(Take those Converse off)
Take it OFF!
(And those Gazelles too)
Take it OFF!
(Take that Kangol off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that Jordache off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that Afro off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that jhericurl off)
Take it OFF!
(Take that Le Tigre off)

Take those acid-washed jeans, bell-bottomed, designed by your mama...Off? Please? Please..

*   http://www.foxwoods.com/aboutus.aspx
** http://likesuccess.com/428884