You might find it hard to believe, but I used to harbor dreams of being a pro boxer. I used to idolize Iron Mike Tyson back when he was still terrorizing the heavyweight division. I'd imitate his every moves with gusto and plastered my rooms with his pictures. Heck, I even tried his "ear-biting" ways. Unfortunately, it was our maid who was on the receiving end. MT was my first mancrush. Verne Troyer was the next.
Alas, my dreams of prizefighting glories would never materialize. I was deemd a teeny-weeny bit undersized for my weight category (welterweight, 140 lbs.) However, i still remained a keen observer of the "sweet science". Come Sunday, I will be part of the throng cheering on Pacman in the Powerplant Cinema. SM Cinemas are too jologs for my taste. You know?
I could have been a contender. Living the life that Manny is having now. Instead, all I do is constantly battle the urge not to whack off so often. Sniff. I envy the guy below who seemed to had it better.
