Pissy Lissie and the Latin Snake

I’m just in such a foul, case-of-the-Mondays, stomach-flu, depressed-by-the-nuclear-option kind of mood today, and when I see a collection of headlines like this:


…it makes me want to chuck it all and start a knitting blog, specifically because I don’t knit.

But I don’t like being grouchy and mardy, so here’s something I’m excited about:


After resoundingly kicking Jesse’s butt last night, Sergio Mora, who has been my favorite ever since I found out he loves art, writing, and reading—particularly Oscar Wilde—is going to Vegas to fight for the million dollars. (For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, see here.)

I actually really liked Jesse, and I wish the final had been between him and Sergio. Of course, I like Peter Manfredo, too—honestly, if I could have hand-picked the final four, I would have chosen the guys that got there. But I do want Sergio to win, because he’s a great boxer and because he’s clever as hell (the smartest thing he ever did was let everyone focus on how fast he is—and boy, he really is—and how not a one-puncher he is, to the exclusion of paying any attention to his jaw of steel or his ability to get inside, especially with that left), and I think (I hope, I hope!) he’ll outbox Manfredo to take home the million. Bloody hell, I can’t wait for the final tomorrow night!

On a side note, can anyone (or the perhaps one or two boxing fans who actually give a shit about this post, lol) think of any other boxer who’s loved to fight from the ropes as much as Sergio? I’m no boxing expert, believe me, but I can’t recall ever having seen any boxers who ran for the ropes like he did. He loves the damn things. Jesse was his only competitor who seemed to remotely pick up on it and keep him in the center of the ring. Or, at least tried to.