In this dingy VFW Hall, the smell of old cigar smoke and stale beer caked into the walls of the arena, set for this match against a friend-turned-one-time foe.
I'm in the ring, squared up with this beaut (she's really awesome, you guys, like one of the better people on here -- no offense), her lipstick matching her red one-piece suit. Knowing she's a submission guru and a half (I mean just look at her two pics for her finishers!), I try to watch her hands and legs as we get close to one another, eyeing her up and down, I go for a quick lock-up, trying to use my slight size advantage to drive her back towards her own corner. "Come on, Gaby, you're better than this! Just accept defeat and move on!" I joke, trying to get in her head a little bit but mainly use my momentum to try and push her back as the crowd wages their boos and cheers, signifying their allegiances more than a prompt on a sitcom set ever could.
