Went to Vegas this past weekend for the 43RD GODDAMNED UFC, which stands for the ULTIMATE FIGHTING CHAMPIONSHIP….that’s right. SKULLGAME was balling big boy style. Second row in. Right behind the ring girls. You know the ones that always cause you to want to know in no uncertain terms “How long exactly before YOU start MAKING porn???” Well if I have any say in it, and believe me, I do, I’d say as soon as we get back to my room at The Fucking Mirage. Yeah that’s right. One of them keeps turning around. Looking. Turning around. Looking. I’m sitting right next to the fake wrestler THE UNDERTAKER though and big motherfucker though he is, I find myself inexorably drawn to his old ladies’s tits.

WHY?

I mean why IGNORE the totally hot and single Ring Bitch and go for the 99 Percent degree of difficulty choice? Because of the three best things in life as determined by Conan the Barbarian:

1) to crush your enemies
2) see them driven before you
3) and to hear the lamentation of their women

THAT’S why.

Vinnie Rose gets ready to negotiate a pay raise.

Quickest way to the kind of fucking I want is by way of a beating. He gives me a hard look. I smile and my eyes drop to her glowing knobs of knobbery and I’m in seventh heaven because I KNOW like I know that the sun will rise tomorrow that this is the WRONG choice all around (though I CAN give that fucking monkey the kind of spanking his dumb ass needs) and as if to cement this the Ring Bitch, post-fight walks off in a huff, so does THE UNDERTAKER and his old lady and I’m standing there with my literal and figurative cock in my hand.

This is where the COCAINE comes in.

And the ESCORTS.

Michelle: Okay. So she wasn't 65 years old. But if she's a fuck month over
18 she might as well have fucking been Grandma Goddamned Moses.

AND our studiously reenacted take on VIVID’S GENERATION SEX with it’s promise of FOUR HOURS OF YOUNG PUSSY. Well I got ONE of some AGING, OLD HOOKER PUSSY. And it was worth every penny of the 20,000 pennies I paid her.

Goddamn it Vegas was good.

Of course The Sallion stayed home and not only got laid like a fucking Turkish bandit, he got wined and dined by his broads.

Jesus Christ I DO love the Science of the Exact Wrong Choice.

Anyways please excuse me.

I’m going to give DOMONIQUE SIMONE, star of "Butt's UP?", a call and make sure, like Samuel L. Jackson, that I give her my home phone number so she can call me like she used to do, at 5 o’clock in the morning to scream “I’M NOT ON DRUGS!!!”

Of course not.

Neither am I. Which is why I will begin immediately calling everyone I know and telling them that.

I mean we're all so goddamned glad to be drug free over here.

Yup.

Sure are.