Not many people know about this, but me and that little jailbaiting twerp Levi Johnston are gonna be going toe-to-toe in the square circle this Saturday. That's right, crazy as it sounds I, Sarah Palin, have every intention of bare-knuckle boxing Levi Johnston in a secret underground match in just a few short days. I've been chugging protein shakes and training with a guy who looks just like the old fella from Rocky because it turns out the guy who was in Rocky is dead now. And ya know who else is gonna be dead soon? Levi Johnston, just as soon as he meets the twin terrors that are Margaret and Nancy. That's what I call my fists. Margaret and Nancy. Margaret's on the left 'cuz she's British and they're still good-for-nothin' socialists.

Let's get something straight, I never liked Levi. I always thought he was up to no good and I knew what was going on with him and Bristol the minute I laid eyes on him. I had half a mind to cut him down from one of the state helicopters and call it an accident. That stupid jacket he wears makes him look like a wolf from far away, so it wouldn't be much of a stretch. Todd talked me down from that one, but now that my unemployed cinder block of a husband is thousands of miles away like the useless Popsicle he is, all the restraints have snapped. Snapped!

Now Levi's running around badmouthing me. Who does he think he is? What Mr. Doesn't Know How To Wrap It Up hasn't figured out is that he would have been dead three or four times over during the election if John and the posse weren't looking after him. Yeah, we didn't have the Secret Service like the Donkeys did, but we did 'em one better. Blackwater, baby. They left a trail of Crips a mile long keeping Levi out of hot water. Well, the free ride's over, Johnston. Your meth habit (and yeah, everyone knows about it) just got you in a heap of trouble you can't slither your way out of. Mama-in-law's coming.

The venue is gonna be the basement of a fish market in Chinatown. Ming Chow, the wife of the guy what owns the place, is on my curling team. She sweeps like nobody's business and I heard she once cut out a dude's eye in Xianyang when he tried to rip off her husband's store. Even the Triads don't mess with Ming. She's had her boys watching Levi's apartment to make sure he doesn't run. I sent him the official invite a few days ago when I heard he was gonna try to get custody of Tripp. Over my dead body, Levi. Or more likely, over yours.

I know Johnston's got the weight advantage on me, and probably the reach, too. That doesn't matter, though. This one is gonna come down to who wants it more. I don't know where that kid's got his head, but mine's in the white part of the fire. I am gonna beat that little snot until he's nothing but a mushy pile of loose teeth and disappointment. I'm tired of his tell-alls and his stupid grabs for attention. I mean, Playgirl? What kind of desperate joke has to have the spotlight all the time? What's he gonna do next, write a book nobody cares about and sit on Oprah's couch like he's really got something to say? Gimme a break.

When this is all said and done, I'll finally be able to get back into the game and push my career in the right direction. Shoshana, my yoga instructor, has been telling me that I need to redirect the negative energy in my life so I can achieve a level of inner balance. Also, she tells me I clench my colon, which I didn't even know was possible. Anyway, Levi's about to get his face redirected and after that I'll be in a better place.

I am so pumped.