Are You There, Michael Phelps? It's Me, Done-ness.

I've heard quite a bit regarding your 300-egg-n- cheese-sammich breakfasts. I've heard more than enough about you groping nubile bunnies at the Playboy mansion. So, now that I've paid my dues, can you go away? We all know that Milorad Cavic finished before you and the photo finish was tilted in your favor because you're American (aka a cheese-munching capitalist sofa jockey). We all know that your doofus grin is by no means going to grace the pages of US Magazine two years from now, unless you develop a drug habit or start dating Jessica "Fartin' Under the Sheets" Simpson. Why not throw in the sweaty, chlorine-scented towel while you're on top? Take your chiseled abs and recede into the night, leaving extra space for LoRo and Tiffany Pollard. Also, keep in mind that 140,000,000 calories a day is a touch unwise even for an Olympian.

Jonathan Davis Does Lil Wayne...

...with disturbing results. For reasons that most likely all trail back to the fact that KO(backwards friggin R)N has not released any decent original material since I sat in a classroom watching a filmstrip about lab safety, the man I will from now on refer to as Sweet Johnny D has decided to add Lil Wayne's Got Money to his roster of stolen goods. The song is somewhat delightful, a touch addictive, like heroin that's been left in the sun too long and has a green tinge to it, but come on Sweet Johnny D - the squiggly voice device? Is this your equivalent of a teddy bear t-shirt? Are you shooting for irony, or do you dream of the day when 16-year-old girls who smell of bubble gum and pony stickers call Z100 begging for your dulcet tones?

I know this much is true - if I ever hear SJD singing (Everything I Do) I Do It For You while dressed as a Musketeer and running his voice through Peter Frampton's guitar processor, I will hire Lil Wayne to fracture my sternum with his nosebleed-inducing guitar riffs and a fine, fine set of brass knuckles.

Actually, rumor has it that Bryan Adams has recently recorded a cloying, gently Canadian version of Lollipop. I don't know how you do it, Lil Wayne - enticing the musical masses to mimic you in a way that will never come close to your squeaky-voiced, heavily tattooed, guitar-killing splendor.

Blog-A-Thon Colon Impossible?

What do you get when you mix pad thai, coffee liquor, and tons of lime wedges? A crappy excuse for us to blog while drunk.

We're halfway through a bottle of coffee-infused vodka, and we've polished off about half a pound of the pad thai in all its rice noodley, saucey goodness. Will we make it to the next post? Will our audience be panting at their monitors, practically licking the screen while they await our next pop culture slaughter session? Will we rupture our vocal cords screaming over celebrities without makeup?

Really, this is just an excuse to get drunk, watch The Golden Girls, and take pictures of delicious wittles. I bet you wish you stayed in tonight.