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Vanity, thy name is Fowlkes

REAL shitty living.
A special little slice of the ‘special little slice of hell’ Vera’s apparently stuck in

Brandon Vera had a pretty shitty weekend. First, he clearly lost another pre-fight bet and wore a banana hammock to the weigh-ins. Then, he was pulverized by a Bones Jones Hellbow (sorry, Kenny) in the first round, and if THAT wasn’t enough, Vera was reportedly banned from air travel due to three separate fractures. Hat tip to Cage Potato for aggregating this information in such a useful manner, and refraining from any mind-numbingly stupid editorializi’ve spoken too soon:

That might not have been a big deal if the fight had been in Las Vegas. He could always pass the time by buying himself a cold one and walking down to see the pirate battle outside of Treasure Island, or else wander around the M&M’s store with all the senile old ladies from Wisconsin. Not a bad way to waste time while you wait for your face to regain its structural integrity, really.

But damn, you’re telling me Vera is stuck in Broomfield, Colorado? Not only did he lose the fight and get his face smashed, but he also has to sit around his hotel room watching an endless stream of shows about Nazis on the History Channel, while sending his cornermen down the hall for ice every ten minutes? That, my friends, is a special little slice of hell.

Ahem. I live sixty miles down the Front Range from Broomfield. Colorado is among the most beautiful places in the States, and I’d argue the world (google ‘Garden of the Gods’ before you start bitching at me, you lousy furriners). The fuck are you from, Ben? THIS MEANS WAR!…

Man, I can’t even fake an Internet feud today. More on last night’s card later today.