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| I don’t know why she bothered blocking. I didn’t land one punch. |
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If you’re going to get punched in the lungs, it’s better if it’s a surprise.
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Just because I didn’t “hit” her, that doesn’t make me a bad boxer.
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I’m wailing on her arm.
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Between rounds I spat in a bucket.
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Round Two: My very first knockdown. That’s the technical term for when you are punched so hard you fall over. I prefer to call it a trip, but that’s not a technical boxing term.
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| Also not a technical boxing term: “The Titty Stare.” |
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The second time I got knocked down was not fun in any way whatsoever. I heard my neck crack and felt my face hit the mat. I was kind of bummed out.
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| When it was almost over, I tried to give Martha a knockdown by jumping at her. It didn’t work. (Jesus, look at the ref’s expression.) |
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Martha carried me effortlessly until the bell rang, and then she threw me on the ground just for kicks.
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| That’s the end of that. |
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I lost the fight, friends. I was defeated wholeheartedly by a 240-pound woman who gave me far less than everything she had.
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Even though I knew I was going to lose, losing sucks. I felt like shit in this picture.
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Fat cunt. Next time you will not get off so easy. I will fight you any day, anytime, and in any place. You are going down. By the way, nice dress. You piece of shit.
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