bleed bleed venice

my mans roy jones lost a unanimous, and by all proof accounts, inarguable decision to slappy joe calzaghe. i didn't get to see it, a fate apparently shared by the low hand showman himself as "that time of the fight" saw his left eye begin its menstrual cycle. fittingly, the guy whose dominance i grew up with laid an egg. ah wuz pullin for you, roymond. i knew you'd be outpointed, but never imagined your cut men would draw so much inspiration from the kooks who did the makeup design for two-face. sheesh mr. lee jones jr, i'm sure you'd make an entertaining and perhaps informative commentator alongside your man max, if only your mouth was capable of producing consonant sounds. that night with james toney feels so far away you might not get there without hooking 3p0 up to the hyperdrive unit. what does a fight with bhop mean at this point? he's still stunting career growth for aspiring superstars, but you look old enough inside those gloves to be a viagra endorser. night, roy :(. retire before is start xanga bangin with teh creative juices from my hot topic novelty wristbands.