Helio Castrosomething is that racecar driver who won Dancing with the Stars.  But in a much more impressive feat and probably the best reason for agreeing to appear on the show, he has also ditched his fiancee to nail his 19-year-old dance teacher, Julianne Hough.

The hunky Brazilian race car driver announced Wednesday that he canned his engagement to fiancée Aliette Vazquez. And on-set snitches are saying his closeness to dance partner Julianne Hough, 19, was a big part of the reason.

Last week, Helio and Julianne were spotted giggling and teasing each other while shopping for matching Ritmo watches together in Beverly Hills at the David Orgell store. On Wednesday, Helio told a pal: "Aliette was only my girlfriend … maybe remotely a fiancee." (Ouch!)

I have a secret prayer that one day I'm marginally famous and enough of a public laughingstock to appear on Dancing with the Stars, simply because I would give my life to ballroom dancing if it meant I had an outside shot of cleaning out the pipes with Kym Johnson or Cheryl Burke. 

Anyway, I haven't quite worked out the math, but this guy is basically the smartest dude on the planet.  If you want premium legal tail, 19-year-olds are the best way to go.  And if you want a 19-year-old who's sexually experienced beyond her years, then your best choices are hooker, runaway, or professional dancer.  And a pro dancer is really the only one that will still be alive in ten years, so that's a feather in his cap.

I get a kick out of the Army-Navy rivalry (which will be played in Baltimore this year instead of Philly).  It's a bunch of people who all chose to forego a totally awesome college experience so they could endure a year of hazing followed by three years of gradually less severe imprisonment.  Pretty much the only difference between them is that Navy gets to wear Summer Whites AKA the Good Humor Ice Cream Man Costume AKA the "faggoty white uniform," while Army cadets have a super-queer cape they wear in the winter.  The defining difference between the two is that at least at the Naval Academy, you have a better shot of becoming a Marine Corps officer.

Anyway, the video above is of some cadets stealing Navy's mascot, while Navy's response is after the jump. 

[Awful Announcing/Wizard of Odds]

p.s. For a moderately entertaining read, you can check out my experience at last year's Army-Navy game. 

How is it that athletes say awesome things when they're mic'd up, but are boring as shit when reporters speak to them?  Short answer: reporters are boring douchebags.  This SportsCenterTop Ten has everything from awesome Canadian accents to Dmitri Young sounding EXACTLY the way I imagined him: as a caricature of Dave Chappelle doing a caricature of Rick James.

[SportsColumn] 

In case you haven't read it already, I highly recommend ESPN.com's E-ticket piece on Bo Jackson.  It examines Bo's life twenty years after his rise to prominence, covering everything from his Paul Bunyan-like mythology to the memorable marketing campaign to his simple life in suburban Chicago, where his extracurricular pleasures include bow-hunting and being intense.  The story leads off with what would sound like a tall tale if it were anyone besides Bo Jackson:

From behind the wheel of an obscenely muscled Dodge pickup, Vincent Edward "Bo" Jackson is reminiscing about the time he took down a 300-pound bear from point-blank range with a .45-caliber pistol… and if you're wondering whether Bo was scared, hell no, Bo was not scared. Not even when that bear got so close Bo and his hunting companion could see the hairs bolt upright like pine needles on the back of its neck…

The way Bo tells it, he waited as long as he could, then he fired a slug into that bear's skull. The bear kept coming. His buddy yelled, "Shoot him again!" and Bo shot him again, firing another bullet directly into the bear's noggin. Bo 2, Bear 0. And then Bo skinned that bear on the spot and dragged the 70-pound hide the half-mile back to camp. Of course he did.

Oh sure, it sounds impressive.  If you're a coward or a weakling.  Three hundred pounds isn't even that big for a bear.  Black bears weigh up to 600 pounds, while the more ferocious grizzly bear tops out at 1500 pounds.  That bear was smaller than Tony Siragusa.  And less deserving of a bullet in the skull.

On the left is Victoria Beckham a year ago in New York.  BAM!  Makes me want grapefruit for breakfast in bed.  On the right is Posh at the Dancing with the Stars finale the other night to support whichever Spice Girl was on the show.  You'll notice that her breasts aren't delightfully spherical.  They actually look like normal breasts.  Said her spokesman:

"I would say she is not wearing the push-up bra she normally wears, but I have not seen the pictures and I have no idea."

I don't know what planet of liars her spokesman is from, but Posh hasn't worn a push-up bra in years.  Those globes have been standing at attention on their own power since she did the world the favor of getting implants.  God I hope this is just some optical illusion.  I don't want to live in a world where Victoria Beckham has the assets of a real human female.  I like her just the way she is: as an emotionless robot sent from the future to harvest human DNA for a post-apocalyptic world.

Or maybe I need to stop masturbating while I watch the Sci-Fi Channel.

Uber-company AEG is looking to sell one of its two MLS teams — it owns the the LA Galaxy and the Houston Dynamo — and obviously the one with David Beckham is more valuable than the one that just won its second consecutive championship.  So the Dynamo may soon be up for sale, and looky-looky who might buy them:

Boxer Oscar De La Hoya is interested in buying the Dynamo with his company Golden Boy Productions. Representatives of the company have visited Houston, attended games and are very impressed with the way the franchise is operated along with how the team has played. 

De La Hoya expressed some concern that the nearest Victoria's Secret is a good fifteen minutes away from the stadium, but team officials stressed that Russian call girls can bring plenty of lingerie with them to the owner's box.  Heh… "owner's box."