UFC Undisputed has become my crystal meth. I’ve never had an addiction like this (besides Snood, which claimed my soul in a dorm in Tucson one Monday night). Last night I fell asleep with my controller in my hand like I just overdosed on Antoni Hardonk giving me high kicks to my head. UFC Undisputed is the only drug that makes you want to grab it by its plastic box and choke it until it knows who’s boss. I’ve never had issues with a plastic box like I do with UFC Undisputed. It’s like my ex-girlfriend has manifested into a plastic disc only to cause me emotional turmoil, sleepless nights and no sex.
Besides Fabricio Werdum catching me in some mystical friggin arm bar in the first 1:20 of the first round, there is one thing in UFC Undisputed that makes about as much sense as my functional alcoholic neighbor reading a book instead of wandering around the apartment complex looking for her ‘sweet spirits’ (not even making this up). Alright, imagine you’re Lyoto Machida and by some freak of nature you’re going to the second round of a fight. You sit in your corner and your trainer is speaking to you in english. You couldnt understand a word of it. In fact, whether you’re Mexican, Brazilian, Croatian, French or Dutch…everyone in your corner speaks english. Now imagine you’re Clay Guida and you eventually wandered over to your corner after the bell rung. Your trainers are talking in english but you only respond to grunts and hand signals. English doesnt work on Guida. You have to speak in his native tongue which consists of Blanka-nese. But whatever, it’s a small complaint on a game so well made that it will eventually cost me all the morsels of sanity that keep me from completely dropping off of this whole ‘society’ thing.
