Tonight the Farris-Barnett (or is the Barnett-Farris?) Family had major plans in place. We had decided to drink champagne, do something else that now I cannot remember, and put up our Christmas tree. Oh! Listen to Christmas music. Yes, that's right.

So anywho, we began the process of Christmas-tree-putting-upping. Chubby Charles skulked around as per typical C-LO behavior. Things were quite lovely. We managed to untie all the lights successfully and assemble our fake tree (which is against my Christmas tree philosophy because I find the spirit of Christmas is found in hacking down a live tree, but I have since relented because we live in a third-floor apartment and cleanup + stairs = major biotch).

Last year M bought this little frame ornament, which was supposed to have a photo of the Chubstress but I never had a photo to put in there because I am apparently not THAT insane of an Old Cat Lady just yet. THEN! I remembered I could chop up the photo of me and The Bachelor and put Brad's mug in there, to commemorate the Year of The Bachelor. Because until I am an Old Cat Lady, I will always say "Remember the year The Bachelor came to town?"

So I went and retrieved my wonderful Halloween prop which had been awkwardly migrating around my room like a Bible that someone gave me, because what do you do with a framed photo of you with a celebrity? You can't throw it away, that's weird. So you move it around your room with a Bible.

Who knew my entire persona could be summarized into a handful of words? A few months ago we all were given personality tests to take online. Today, a woman came in from the testing company called Insights to give us our results and talk about what they mean for us as a team.

The program is based on four main personality types, which they classify by color (red, blue, green and yellow). They basically said that it makes it easier for us to remember our color as well as others, so we can quickly determine (i.e. condemn) someone to their color. I was right down the middle between blue, which signifies someone who wants to do everything right, and red, which is someone who wants to do it NOW.

We got an extensive write up on our working personalities, as well as detailed information on how we like to be managed and how we like to communicate with others. My overview ended with this paragraph, which pretty much summarizes not only my working demeanor but the story of my life:

She applies analysis and objectivity to discover the underlying principles, relying on clear thinking in making decisions. Rachel's many accomplishments are achieved mainly through determination and perseverance in reaching or exceeding her high standards. Her natural introversion does not prevent her from making critical and incisive comments with conviction and presence. What may seem like instinctive action exhibited by Rachel is the result of long observation and thought which enables her to be alert to all the likely consequences of the decision. Rachel is self-reliant and is not frightened to take the path of maximum resistance in her efforts to produce the best results.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Dear M,

I somehow set a frozen meal on fire in the microwave tonight. Yes, a frozen meal. Only I could pull off such an outstanding feat.

I would just like to apologize in advance for the awful stench you will smell when you walk through the door tomorrow morning. The smell alone may quickly propel both Chubby Charles and me into vegetarianism.

Kind regards,
MR

I clicked on this link at work today, and somehow I think we have the Patriot Act to thank for it:

Hawaii Direct Airport Release Security Advisory

Seriously?

I know you guys are on pins and needles. Are you ready for this?

I am going to be in a piano recital. Yes, like your mom used to warn you about. But not my mom.

January 26, a Saturday, at 4:30 PM is the big day. Does anyone have any white tights that I can wear? I feel like I should wear white tights. And Mary Janes.

It will be me, a bunch of eight year olds, and a 40 year old dad of one of the eight year olds. Should be fabulous. I am picturing juice and cookies. I will be playing two very short songs from the heralded Alfred's Basic Adult Piano Course Book (aka the Time To Get a Life Book).

Anyway, all are invited. It's a tragedy that we can't have the afterparty at the Ivory Cat.

Don't worry, this won't be the last time you hear about this. There may be various evites/Facebook/Myspace events involved. Maybe a press release or junket. Who knows.

To get you in the mood, my most recent accomplishment is below. Self-taught (plus some help from DTP at 2 AM the night before the IC closed). And yes, that is the musical hoodie you see me sporting. I wear it when I practice in memory of the IC:

I was in a very deep sleep this morning when my alarm went off at 5 AM so my immediate response was "NO WAY" and I went back to sleep. Even Chubby Charles looked peeved, or as peeved as a tuft of white fur can look at 5 AM.
Tonight as penance I went to boot camp, since I was more awake (thank you sugar free Red Bull, my hero) and also since it wasn't as cold. We started to do some awful post-Thanksgiving push up/plank/pop squats/mountain climbers circuit and then had "interval" runs in between. I was just glad we weren't doing the Ring of Fire again because I still maintain it gave me a cold last time.
For our second interval run, McD announced we were going to be doing a prison run which is one of the few boot camp exercises that actually sounds as miserable as it is. Which is testament to how much it sucks. I mean obviously the Hercules who created the rest of the boot camp exercise (Ahem. McD.) thought that "lying leg raises" accurately describes "pain and agony while moving your legs" or that "plank" is synonymous with "thirty seconds of suicidal thoughts."
A prison run is basically where you put your hands behind your head and then you take off running as if you just busted out of Pelican Bay Maximum Security Prison. Which may not sound hard, but running without your arms is kind of like swimming without your legs or playing the piano without your hands. Rather difficult and, in this case, aerobically challenging.
From now on I am going to refer to the Indian Run as the Chain Gang Run, in an effort to create more truth in advertising.

When we got done with that misery, we started up some more circuits, most of which I've quickly forgotten in a sort of Stockholm-syndrome cycle that I go through post-workout. I do remember McD saying "You guys were all so talkative before the prison run!" No one responded, just various gasps and Hail Marys from the crowd. "What happened?" McD continued. "What happened to chatty?"

Had I not been utilizing every ventricle of my heart to pump blood to my shoulders at that moment in time, I would have responded "I think Chatty got shot escaping from prison."

---

I have my piano lesson tomorrow. Don't get your hopes up too much but expect a BIG announcement Wednesday.

One of my favorite aspects of growing older is gaining new perspective on old thoughts and associations. Most people dread getting older, but I've always looked forward to it -- even as a child I never wanted to sit in a high chair because I saw the older people sitting at the main table; I never crawled, instead I insisted to cruise around in a somewhat-dangerous walker; and the day I was able to drive and work, that is exactly what I did.

We used to come to Port Aransas with my maternal grandparents and my mom's sister's family nearly every summer. I have vague recollections of being very young, probably about four or five, and climbing around in the dunes. I remember the thick, rubbery St. Augustine grass that my cousins and my sister and I would run around on, until our feet were covered in painful sticker burrs that hid in the ground. There are photos of me wearing only a ripped leopard print tank top that used to be my mom's, sitting in a dune, my hair blowing across my face, looking rather fierce. The ocean was something that exhilarated and frightened me all at once.

Port Aransas has become one of the most timeless places in my life -- while Austin pops up skyscrapers daily and sprawls northward to Georgetown, Port Aransas has managed to keep its rustic charm, despite a new golf course and resort under development on the opposite side of the island from the rest of the condos.

We stopped going to Port Aransas annually somewhere around the time when my grandmother got Alzheimer's, perhaps because it was too hard to travel with her. My cousins and I were also growing older, finding other things to keep us occupied during the summer. Up until last year, we had gone on a hiatus from Port Aransas for nearly ten years.

I first returned here with one of my old coworkers, in May of 2006, for Memorial Day. Her family had a fishing boat and being a closet fishing addict, I jumped at the chance to go along. I remember driving up into Aransas Pass, which is the town before you get to the ferry that takes you across to Port Aransas jetty. I kept remarking on everything I remembered, amazed that it all looked so familiar after so much time. My experience was different on that trip -- I'd never gone out into the channel in a boat to fish (my mom and I had always fished off a pier). We spent the weekend catching redfish and trout and sitting around in their camper drinking wine. I came home and told my mom that we really ought to try to return to the beach again.

Since then, I dragged Captain Asshat down here for Labor Day last year, just before he left. We had a hilarious time that was forever memorialized in my blog entry about our trip on the Texas Treasure casino boat and the hotel employee smashing into my car only minutes after we got there. A few months later, my family went back for Thanksgiving. I remember being sick and incredibly melancholy, as Captain Asshat had left only a month before. I moped around most of the weekend, wondered how on earth I was going to get through the next twelve months of my life, and thought about what Thanksgiving 2007 would bring. My predictions now seem so incredibly naive.

Then in May of this year, I offhandedly mentioned to AJ that we should organize a girl's group to Port Aransas for Memorial Day. What ensued was one of the most idyllic and poignant weekends, something that even a movie probably couldn't capture. The weekend was a turning point for me of sorts, when I realized that friendship would always trump whatever misery you had weighing on your shoulders. We explored the bar scene in Port Aransas, were solicited by strange waiters who believed in psychics, and found ourselves wandering down the beach at 4 AM laughing hysterically.

Port Aransas hopefully will never change. The Island Retreat, where my family has been coming since I was in diapers, will hopefully never lose its 1970s shell hangings on the wall or the somewhat mildewed smell of carpet that has been tread upon one too many times. I hope I can always come to Port Aransas, look out at the grassy lawn leading into the dunes and remember being four years old, doing cartwheels and playing tag with my cousins and sister; twelve years old and doing backflips into the pool; twenty two and sitting on the beach with someone I loved; a drunken four AM walk back to the hotel, arms slung across the shoulders of friends who understand you; even this, the now, listening to the ocean and watching the gulls fly just above the waves on the horizon. With memories like those, I don't think I could ever feel old here.

Not your typical Thanksgiving but I'm typically anything but typical (who boxes with their cat, really?). We got to the Port today and evidently I'm the only one not in denial of the current Big Chill as I did not bring a bathing suit. It's about fifty five degrees here and while we lucked out last Thanksgiving, there will be no sunning on the beach this year.

However, we did get the opportunity to make a bonfire on the beach which resulted in one hilarious video of my mom yelling "Shut up, Rachel, SHUT UP!" while she lit match after match trying to start a fire (I'll upload it tomorrow). My Aunt Janny (my mom's sister) and Uncle George live on a South Texas working cattle ranch so it is typically a bit of the City/Country Mouse whenever we get together, with my mom attempting to do "country" things like make fires. However we managed to get one going, with some help from my cousin Will who has always been the consummate firestarter. We then realized that we had placed the wood we'd gathered off the beach in a rather conspicuous shape of a cross. Toss a bottle of wine and a few crocheted blankets into the picture and we ended up looking like a bunch of homeless winos with a vendetta against Jesus Christ.


Nevertheless, I have some serious activities planned for tomorrow starting with a generous deployment of mimosas (my contribution to the Thanksgiving spread), followed by a lengthy nap, concluded with several hours of reading. The freezing cold temperatures don't bother me in the least -- I now have a weekend of guilt-free lounging ahead of me, occasionally staring out off the balcony at the gray ocean and saying "That's nice."

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Dear Americans Whom I Hope Cannot Vote:

The only issue Brad Womack has is that he didn't want to enter some pseudo-long distance relationship with a Phoenix Suns dancer who didn't know how to spell the word "Jennie" and/or a bartender-cum-realtor who blinked too much.

And that The Marq didn't have a sign for the first six months it was in operation.

The person who really has issues right now is Pervez Musharraf. Don't know who that is? Then I suggest you set down your dog-eared copy of He's Just Not That Into You, quit ranting about the final episode of The Bachelor, and inform yourself.

Signed,
MR

Today we have a reporter from the Austin American Statesman coming to interview us for the Business section. I met her last week and as soon as I heard "business reporter," I began my pitch.
My boss recently hired a PR firm to spread the word about the company. He said, when griping about how the PR company hadn't produced any actual results in the three weeks they've been on retainer, said "Hell, I'm just going to tell them like it is: I can just send out my employee with a bar tab and get better press."

This week I got a few emails from various politicians and self-righteous citizens encouraging me to thank our troops this holiday season...by sending a text message. That's right, a text message.

Words. Fail. Me.

From the America Supports You website:

“This is a simple way to connect our citizens to our soldiers using modern technology,” Allison Barber, deputy assistant secretary of defense for internal communications and public liaison [Ed. Note: How the hell did they come up with that job?], said of the text messaging program.

The program, which already has received nearly 4,000 messages, officially kicks off at 6 a.m. EST Nov. 17 and concludes at midnight PST Nov. 22. Between those times, people wishing to express gratitude to the troops for their service can text a brief message to 89279. Each text message sent will receive a response from an active-duty servicemember in return.

Connect our citizens and soldiers? By sending a text message? Could we get any more disconnected and distant than that?

I don't know. Maybe it's just because I'd like to text message something like F YOU, ENJOY UR FING THXGVNG to Captain Asshat, or maybe its because I'm just in a funk over the IC closing down (yes, still) but for chrissake, this seems outrageously low down to me. It's not like the last line of Flanders Fields is "In Flanders Fields/I got a text message."

Perhaps some of my Army/Navy/deployed readership can weigh in on this and -- please -- correct me if I'm wrong.

Well I was wondering how this would go over with the Average Idiot Bachelor watcher. General public opinion seems to have fallen, while locally his star is on the rise. Check the searches just tonight alone:

		12.73%	mean rachel
		10.00%	bachelor
		3.64%	the bachelor episode 9
		2.73%	brad womack is an asshole
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	1	0.91%	mean rachel austin, texas
	1	0.91%	bachelor picks no one
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	1	0.91%	brad womack is an ass
	1	0.91%	brad womack noone
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	1	0.91%	the bachelor brad womack after the final r

Actually, for the record, he's quite nice.

So I am supposed to be writing this article at work for an HR industry magazine, basically about the various ins and outs of our specific niche business. I have to write it for a specific audience -- HR professionals who already sort of know what we do, while at the same time describing more in detail the various aspects of the service and answering questions that might come up. The problem is that I feel like most of what I am writing is repetitive and boring as hell. Mainly because it is all very vague and I'm talking about a service while not directly selling our company's service.
It's going to be a feature article so it has to be at least 2000 words long. If you know me, you know that 2000 words is not hard at all for me to write in about twenty minutes, but I am having such a hard time writing anything. I've been putting it off for so long at work that I only have about 500 words so far. I mainly blame my work environment, as it is hard to write anything when the phone is ringing and my Outlook is yelling at me to email people back. So I emailed it to myself with the hopes of working on it tonight pre-Bachelor finale. What have I been doing for the last ten minutes? Going through my Google Reader. Reading not writing (except for this). Procrastinating and I'm not even at work. Great.

So I ask myself the one question that every red-blooded American writer asks themselves at some point or another:

What would Carrie Bradshaw do?

Well first off it'd be snowing or raining. Then I would put on an oversized sweatshirt over my underwear and then tip toe around barefoot on the hardwood floor, with a giant mug of coffee (because it would be cold) and sit cross-legged in front of my Mac and my inner monologue would start. The camera would pan out over Central Park and no doubt Mr. Big would start tossing pebbles at my window, at which point I'd stare down and he'd be there with daisies or something and I'd toss on some $900 dress and write some cutesy sentence like "When it comes to life, how do you know when a man is a dog...or just a good guy?" and slam my computer shut.

Instead, here I am in jeans and a t-shirt, staring blankly at Chubby Charles who comes bearing no daisies as far as I can tell, and about thisclose to tossing on sleep shorts, slamming my computer shut and grabbing a beer.

But sometimes, at least for a little while, you can pretend.

A little something to set the mood for the day!

Last night my cousin Will and his roommate Gilbert had a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner at their place. Gilbert cooked up probably--no, scratch that, definitely--one of the most elaborate, delicious Thanksgiving spreads I have ever laid my pilgrim eyes on. It made me feel just about as domestic as Ozzy Osborne, and I told Gilbert that should there ever come a day when I have a family depending on me to provide a Thanksgiving dinner, I will most certainly be calling him.

We will find a way to have fun this weekend without the IC.

Tall Rachel made this and sent it to me, while simultaneously making my day. Thank you!

After rolling to San Antonio, Cash and I proceeded to do the following:

Valet the Little Deviant and pull out Cash's 90210 tote bag in front of the Sheraton Gunther.
Get lost about fifteen times.
Eat dinner on the Riverwalk categorized as "CoolMex."
Got lost about ten more times.
Arrived at the AT&T Center and walked down a backstage cinderblock hallway in a very Sex & the City moment when Carrie meets the New Yankee Pitcher moment.
Were seated cageside and I do mean cageside.


It's 7:41 PM and the National Anthem singer Joy Davis just showed up -- things are about to kick off.

---

In honor of Veteran's Day, we've got Marines and a bunch of pumped up people in the crowd. The Knock Out Girls are parading by, and Cash and I are ready for the "Feel bad about yourself" portion of the evening.
The announcer looks a helluva lot like C-Rod. We're taking a picture to prove it.


Today is the 232nd birthday of the Marine Corps. In honor of it, there is a full Marine color guard salute and a large sheet cake. The first piece is given to the oldest Marine present as a symbol of respect. Cash says "And the third piece is given to the closest brunette."


Today is the 232nd birthday of the Marine Corps. In honor of it, there is a full Marine color guard salute and a large sheet cake. The first piece is given to the oldest Marine present as a symbol of respect. Cash says "And the third piece is given to the closest brunette."

It's 8 PM and it's fight time. Or, as Cash says, "Let's get ready to rumble." First fight up is Warren Stewart from Austin and Jimenez MMA and Devon Miller from San Marcos and Solidarity MMA.

MMA is judged on a 1o-point must system. Each round winner must get ten points, with the loser getting 9 or less. The combined scores of the three rounds determines the winner of the fight -- unless there's a submission or knockout.

---

Actually the catchphrase for starting the fight is "Let the battles beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeginnnn!"

Stand up fighter and MMA record of 5-1, Warren Stewart bounds out to the stage and begins to pace. At only 5'4" and 155 lbs., Cash determines that she could fight this guy. Everyone's always a big-talker outside the cage. He's in the white shorts.

MMA fighter with a record of 4-12, 5"9 and 155 lbs., Devon "Much Love" Miller trots out in the black shorts. The cage is closed and it's time to go. Stewart gets out the first few punches, while Miller takes Stewart to the ground. Stewart seems to be angling for a guillotine choke, but Miller throws some elbows as they grapple on the ground. Miller throws some serious punches at Stewart's head. The ref pulls them apart and they're back out. Stewart gets ahard core kick in, but Miller takes him down again. Stewart almost gets him in his guard, but Miller does a quick job of moving around and getting side control on him.


Round One is over and it's back to their corners. Stewart seems to be pretty relaxed still, but Miller looks like he's breathing hard. It's back at it again and Miller tries to get another take down. Miller's bleeding from his eyebrow pretty hard, and they pull him out to take care of him. I think it's from one of the kicks hearlier. They go to the ground again and Stewart is grounding & pounding, but Miller hangs in trying to get Stewart in his guard. The ref pulls them apart again and Stewart gets a knee to Miller's face. They're up against us on the cage and Miller is fading fast. Stewart seems to just be biding his time, but now Stewart's on the bottom and getting pounded.



Round 2 is over and the judge passes off his score. They come out to mop up the blood. Stewart's breathing really hard but still looks in control. They're back in for Round 3 and Cash says Stewart chop blocks Miller down. Miller tries to do another guillotine on Stewart but Stewart wriggles out. Miller almost gets Stewart in an arm bar.

The crowd gets animated. They go back to the ground and Miller almost gets Stewart in a key lock it looks like, but it's hard to tell from this angle.


Then Miller does get Stewart in the beginning phases of an arm bar but Stewart hangs in there and the clock rings in the nick of time -- Stewart literally was saved by the bell and by Unanimous Decision, Warren "Dynamite" Stewart is the winner.

---

Now it's Doug "The Carthage Killer" Williams from Nacogdoches, TX and Adrenalin Fight Sports in the blue camo shorts.

Joseph Kadilis, San Antonio Texas, Kadilis MMA, with his professional debut here in San Antonio , 6'2" tall and 200 lbs. in the red shorts.


Williams gets some early hits to Kadilis' face, and takes him down. Williams appears to be quite the slugger. Kadilis takes a few kicks, and someone yells at Williams to get his hands up. Williams has a mean right hook and gets Williams in the head a few times -- and knocks out Kadilis only 1 minute and 24 seconds into Round One. That right hook got him, not to mention that Kadilis should consider investing in a hair tie.


Fight 2 is over.

---

Trey Stewart, 6'2" tall and 185 lbs., from Austin Texas and Grappler's Domain is making his professional debut-- wearing black shorts and his toenails are painted black.

Matt "The Alligator" Green, from Carlsbad NM and Round One, 6' tall and 183 lbs., is in the black shorts also. Stewart gets an early take down but they're back up. Green looks "Scrappy as shit" according to Cash, starts getting some side punches. Stewart gets some right hooks in early. Green has Stewart up against the cage and then they go to the ground. Stewart gets Green in his guard, but Green stands up, unlocks Stewart's guard, and takes a pounding on Stewart's face. Green gets Stewart in a guillotine choke and Stewart submits! Scrappy wins and goes to make sure Stewart's doing okay. Cash and I comment on the amazing sportsmanship of the sport. At two minutes and twenty seven seconds into the first round, Matt Alligator Green is the winner.

Fight 3 is over. Small problem with the camera so pictures will be up tomorrow for this fight.

---

We're in the welterweights now. Conan Cano, Corpus Christi (holla!) from Extreme MMA Academy comes rolling out to Eminem tunes and wearing tight spandex shorts that are either heavily stuffed or he is the next Mr. Big. Even the judge sitting directly to my left starts to chuckle.


Now there's David McClung, from Bryan, Texas and Brazos Valley MMA.

The two start to circle each other, and Cano gets the first kick. Cano takes McClungto the ground and McClung starts to try to get Cano in his guard. McClung's lip starts bleeding and they're really both grappling, scrambling. They get back up and are up against the cage, but Cano takes him down again. Cano is getting some serious elbows across and starts to ground and pound. McClung gets knocked out and the judge stops it.


By TKO, 1 minute and 35 seconds in the first round, Conan "The Barbarian" Cano wins.


Fight 4 is now over.

---

Kenny "The Italian Hit" Trevino, from Las Vegas, NV and Grapplers Domain, 6'1.5" tall and 170 lbs., comes out in the black shorts.

"Kyo" Gregoire from San Antonio, TX and Team Know Pain rolls out in the white shorts and the platinum hair. Gregoire starts trying to take Trevino down, but Trevino gets his arm under Gregoire's chin and gets him in a guillotine. Gregoire manages to struggle through it and gets out of the choke.

Gregoire picks up Trevino and slams him on his back to the ground. These two look to be pretty efficient grapplers, matched fairly evenly for a ground fight. The ref splits them up and they're back at it. Gregoire gets some high kicks to Trevino's face in and then they go slamming into the cage.

Round One is now over and they go back to their corners while the Knock Out girls parade the next round sign.
Then Trevino gets Gregoire in another guillotine and Gregoire tries to move his body against it. He manages to get flipped around out of the choke and Trevino starts to punch. Then Trevino gets his leg caught in Gregoire's leg bar but moves out of it. He then flips Gregoire and pounds the hell out of him until the ref stops it as Gregoire stops defending himself.

There's some dissent as to whether the ref should have stopped it and a man has to be escorted out.


One minute and thirty two seconds into the 2nd round, Kenny "The Italian Hit" Trevino ends up winning because of his hits and can add a TKO win to his record. Watch the ground & pound below.





Fight 5 is over. Now it's a ten minute intermission and then the women fight.

---

Deborah Wofford, from Cedar Park, TX and Grappler's Domain is in the black shorts with pink stripes.
Debbie Garcia, from San Antonio, TX and Power Team BBJ, is at 5'5" and 135 lbs. is in the blue shorts. Garcia takes Wofford down almost instantly and takes side control of her.


It seems like the audience is much more animated about the women fight. Garcia throws some serious punches until Wofford pushes her away and then the ref stands everyone up again. Garcia throws Wofford to the ground and starts throwing elbows on Wofford, until she knocks her out. Wofford is moving slowing getting up but they finally get her seated on a stool. Wofford seems to be having some trouble with her left leg and limps off the stage. She has nice pink painted toes, which is kind of a strange juxtaposition to the rest of the carnage we've been seeing tonight.
Garcia wins by knock out after only a few minutes of fighting.

Round 6 is now over.

---

Levy "Superman" Green, from Carlsbad, NM and Round One, comes out in the black shorts. He stands at 6' and weighs 185 lbs. We assume he must be related to the other Green since they look alike and are both from Carlsbad.

Brandon Farran, from Abilene, TX and Abilene MMA, 5'10" tall and 185 lbs is wearing the tan and brown shorts. Round One begins and Farran goes right tward Green with punches.


They go to the ground and then are up again, before Farran slams Green down, climbs on his back and begins throwing some vicious right punches to Green until he taps out! People start yelling "Get up Superman!" and booing at the early tap-out. Green is out like a light and I can see his eyes rolling back in his head as the ref tries to wake him.

Winner by TKO, after one minute and 52 seconds, Brandon Farran makes fast work of Levy Green.

They announce a fifteen minute intermission and people aren't happy -- they want more blood, more pain and more action. The few fights between the last intermission went too quickly. The announcer comes back out and explains that one of the next fighters, Chris Herbold, has had a family member involved in an automobile accident.

---

The Darrill Schoonover and Chris Herbold fight was canceled due to Herbold's family member's car accident. We wish our best to the Herbolds and for his family member's speedy recovery.

Christian Sanchez, from Cedar Park, TX and Grappler's Domain, is in the red shorts and looks like a young Tito Ortiz.

Adam Johnson, from Sanderson, TX and Round One, is in he black shorts. Johnson gets some early kicks and Sanchez struggles until he is slammed to the ground on his back.



Sanchez Looks like he's trying to get Johnson in a guillotine, but Johnson gets out of it. They struggle on the far side of the cage for a bit and Johnson gets some punches to Sanchez. Johnson is on top of Sanchez and gets him in his guard, then starts to get a rear naked choke on Sanchez until he taps out.


Two minutes and 24 seconds in the first round and Adam Johnson is declared the winner.


Fight 7 is over.

---

Now for the first Heavyweight Title Fight of the night.
Patrick Castillo, from Copperas Cove, TX and Fighter's Forge, this guy's a 6'2" tall, 240 lb solid wall wearing black shorts.
Matt Thompson, 8 wins 4 6'6" tall and 240 lbs, from Austin, TX (holla!) and South Austin Gym (isn't that over off of South Lamar in my old 78704 hood?), also in black shorts, with the dark hair and the beard.

The two are throwing some serious punches and Castillo gets Thompson right in the mouth to start. They get against the corner of the cage and Thompson gets a quick right hook and then left hook from Castillo. Thompson catches Castillo with a kick and then they are up against the cage again. Castillo gets Thompson with a hit to the face, and then the ref separates them.

Castillo dodges Thompson's right hook and comes back with a few body shots. Thompson gets Castillo with an upper cut a few times and just as things get heated between the two, Round One is over.

Round Two starts and Castillo gets Thompson twice with a sharp right hook. Thompson's bleeding and Castillo gets some knees to him. Thompson starts getting pounded up against the cage, but throws some hits back at Castillo. I have a moment to think about what I've been writing and people start booing -- if there's not constant pounding, they're not happy. Thompson holds Castillo's face his left arm and starts throwing heavy hits to Castillo's face, causing him to start to bleed and knocking out his mouth guard. The ref stops the action to put the mouth guard back in and then they get back into it.

Round Two is over and they go back ot their corners. Castillo's bleeding pretty hard from the few punches Thompson got in while he had his head in his arm, and looking fairly winded.

Round Three Starts and the're up against the cage, Thompson throwing some hits to Castillo's left ear. Thompson gets several hits in and it starts to look like he might have Castillo. Castillo gets away from them and they're back at it. Castillo grabs Thompson and gets a fierce punch in and then they're back up against the cage. People start yelling "Upper cut!" and they get back out of the corner again. Thompson's bleeding a bit now. Thompson starts to get some upper cuts in, but it's looking like this might have to go to decision. They are in the corner, swaying and tired, and people start booing. Thompson gets a few knees into Castillo's face, but Round 3 is over.

Round 4 starts and the pair finally slams to the ground, with Thompson on the floor. The crowd gets animated and Castillo tries not to find himself in Thompson's guard. Then Tompson gets him in an arm bar, but Castillo moves out of it. They are back up again. Matt's corner keeps yelling for him to do more body shots and to "sweep." Castillo takes Thompson down again and they struggle before time is called. Round 4 is over.

Round Five starts and the fighters come out swinging for the final round. Castillo then grabs Thompson, lifts him up and throws him to the ground. Thompson takes the opportunity to get a hold of Castillo's leg, but nothing comes of it.


They get back up and the ref splits them up again. Castillo ducks Thompson's sweeping left hook , but then takes a kick to the shin. Thompson gets Castillo up against the cage and Castillo appears to be wincing, either in exhaustion or pain. Round 5 finishes up and it looks like it goes to the judges' decision, the first fight of the night to go to decision.

By Unanimous Decision, after all 5 rounds, Patrick Castillo wins the Title Fight.

Next up: Middleweight Title Fight.

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Nate James, from Oklahoma City, OK and USA All Stars, a MMA fighter with 6 wins and 3 losses, 5'11" and 185 lbs., he comes out in the red shorts.
Izzy Johnson, from Carlsbad, NM and Round One, at 6'1" and 185 is waring the black shorts and looks as mean as they come. The two judge each other for a while, and then Johnson takes a hold of James' neck, trying to choke him out. James manages to avoid a total choke out and they go to the ground, where Johnson gives up on the choke. James tries to lock his guard around Johnson, while Johnson starts to get some body strikes in. Johnson delivers a fierce strike to the side of James' head, gets his elbows in towards James' face. Then Round One is over.

Round Two starts up and Johnson throws a mean left kick but doesn't deliver. James strikes at Johnson and they grapple but in separating, Johnson gets an uppercut that sends James' head spinning. He stays up and they go against the cage again, with Johnson trying to choke out James. The ref splits them up and when they get going again, they come down and James throws some punches into Johnson's side. Johnson tosses up his hips and tries to shrimp out, but James side control proves strong and he stays on top of him. James continues to ground and pound until the round ends.


Round Three starts and Johnson goes for a kick once, hesitates, then goes for a kick again. James is ready for it and grabs his left leg when he does, and takes him to the ground. A bit like a poker player giving up his bluff there. Johnson gets James in his guard but James manages to unlock it and continues to deliver some punches to Johnson. The ref splits them up and they are back standing again. James tries to take Johnson down but misses, then picks up Johnson and takes him to the ground. James gets on the side of Johnson, which seemed to work well for him in the last round. Johnson keeps trying to choke James out.


Then James gets Johnson in a triangle choke, right in front of where we're sitting, and Johnson taps out. The crowd is happy that some serious grappling went down.


Two minutes and fifty two seconds in to the third round, winner by tap out, Nate James is the Middle Weight Title holder. Johnson is nice enough to thank the XFC for having the show.


Next up, the Superfight between Josh "Bring the Pain" Haynes and Cedric "Spiderman" Marks!

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Cedric "Spiderman" Marks from Cedar Park, Texas and Grappler's Domain, standing at 5'9" and 185 lbs., Marks is in the blue shorts.

Josh "Bring the Pain" Haynes from Las Vegas, NV, Extreme Couture and Ultimate Fighter 3, standing at 5'9" tall and weighing 185 lbs., he comes out to the music of "God's Gonna Cut You Down" by Johnny Cash wearing black shorts with orange. Haynes gets the first few strikes in but then Marks takes Josh down to the ground. Haynes squirms out and then Marks gets behind Haynes, holding on to him by the hips. Then Marks gets some punches in, but Haynes grabs Marks' arm and then gets him around the neck in an attempt to choke him.


Marks gets a punch in as they move off the wall, and then slugs Haynes a few more times. Marks gets Haynes square in the nose 10 seconds before the end of Round One.


Round Two starts and Marks dodges a mean right hook from Haynes. Haynes delivers a kick to Marks, but Marks looks relaxed and controlled as he gets a left hook on Haynes. The action slows as they circle and the crowd boos a bit, wanting them to throw more punches.l Hanyes gets several mean punches in after that and gets Marks up against the cage.


Then Marks pushes Haynes up against the cage. Then Haynes gets behind Marks and gets him in a guillotine, and they go to the ground as the crowd cheers. Marks lifts his hips and starts to shrimp out of the choke. His face starts to look a bit defeated, but he hangs in there until the end of Round Two. The crowd is pumped and a little boy behind me keeps going "You can get him, Cedric!" Everyone loves an underdog.

Round Three starts and Marks is looking a little more worn out now. They go to the ground and Haynes gets Marks in his guard and tries to make a choke happen. Then Haynes starts trying for a triangle but can't. Marks starts to get some punches in as Haynes turns and punches Haynes as he retreats, and stays on him until Haynes goes out.


Marks is the winner by knock out! Marks looks elated and exhausted and spends some time lying on his back on the ground. The judge turns to us and says "Looks like Cedric was running out of gas. Might have been his last round." Marks starts saying "Hoo-rah Marines!" when he stands up.


A minute and thirty five seconds into the third round, by way of knock out, Cedric "Spiderman" Marks is the winner of the Superfight Title. The little boy cheering for him behind me is beyond excited. "He did it!" He keeps exclaiming.

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Now we're off to film the Drunk Girl-Tage. Don't ask. But special thanks to XFC Fights for having us!! We can't wait for the next one.