I'm having to blog from the Winged Monkey's iPhone tonight...because we're out watching UFC. Now, I'm not your typical UFC fan, but there are several things about fight night that I find rather entertaining:

First of all, WM's friend D is a wonderful host. He usually has a Cosmo or an Us Weekly mixed in with his Playboys, and he always burns a candle in the bathroom, so his bachelor pad is pretty chick friendly. And one of my favorite pizza places is in walking distance, so dinner is always yummy.

And the fights themselves?

Let's start with the nicknames: The New York Bad Ass...who just got his bad ass kicked. Little Nog, as opposed to his brother, Big Nog. And Christmas. Named after the character in Dumb & Dumber. There's a role model for you. Even the commentators had to say something about that one:
"Christmas" is original. We don't need another "Pitbull" in MMA, after all.
Then there's the announcer who, according to D, models his announcing style after William Shatner. His overdramatic movements keep throwing off the cameramen. He looks a little like a chubby Frankie Avalon, so I keep waiting for him to work in the phrase "Beach Blanket BIN-GO!" in his announcer style. Apparently he is the little brother of a more famous voice; I think the one that coined "Let's get ready to RUM-BLE!" Talk about living in a shadow.

And the outfits.

Tonight's fighters all seem to be sponsored by Venum, which despite the spelling, still makes me giggle when it's written across their crotch. That, coupled with the giant eyes across their ass, makes watching them bouncing around the ring pretty entertaining. And all of them have their own clothing line, or items featured in someone else's clothing line, so they walk through the crowd on their way in in one t-shirt and then they put on a different one when they are getting ready to talk to the host after the fight.

All of the shirts look pretty much alike: kinda of like a cotton version of a Harley Davidson. And they all have one word slogans, like Affliction or Punishment in tattoo style letters across their chest in shiny foil ink. Personally, I think the foil ink is a bit over the top, but I would never say that in front of the fighters. They are after all professional ass kickers.

But they do have hearts. They keep dedicating their fights to people. One guy dedicated his win to his grandmother who died of cancer a couple of weeks ago. That one I thought was touching. Not so much the guy who tried to dedicate the fight he lost. If I were the dedicatee, I think I'd be a bit embarrassed by that one. I imagine a lot of heckling going on on the other side right now.

The best part, though, has to be the fact that I am watching with two martial artists, which is kind of like watching a cooking show in Ramsey's living room. The conversation is 90% martial arts jargon (which, eerily enough, I am actually beginning to understand a bit), and every move is broken down and analyzed. Then the guys are yelling out move suggestions, as if the fighters can hear them through the TV. And finally, my favorite part, the guys will occasionally get up and act out what the fighters should have done. Two grown men. Wrestling in the living room.

Further evidence to support my theory that men stop maturing at 17.

I repeat my assertion from an earlier post: Cuteness makes up for a lot in this world.