Dear Ronda Rousey,

You and me need to get married.

I have been looking for a woman who can kick butt like you for a long, long time.  Truth is, some of my ex-wives are kind of scary, but none of them are as scary as you are.  And if you can knock out a crazy Brazillian chick in under a minute, Louise Carpwaller ain’t got a snowball’s chance in Rio against you.

Some of my qualifications for being a husband are listed here, but I added some to the list just for you:

• You like to fight, so I will take you down to Bubba’s on a Saturday night and you can fight all you want. I can be your promoter for almost free. Louse Carpwaller hangs out there and I heard her talking smack about you. I ain’t kidding.
• I like long walks on the beach and opening cans of whoop-butt.
• I am contented to stay in the background and not hog all the glory for only 20% of your gross earnings.
• When it’s dark and you are drunk and if you squint a little, I look like Bradley Cooper.
• I think Floyd Mayweather is a chump too.  Don’t tell him I said that.

You can shoot me an e-mail or hit me up on Twitter darlin’.

Your next husband,

Elwood Peterbilt Jenkins