What to watch for in this weekend's biggest matchups.  One team or another in ALL CAPS.

KIMBO SLICE over Johnny Tomatocan — I appreciate that Slice is a complete badass, but I think it's telling that his only MMA opponents so far have been Boxcar Ira, Boxcar Fritz, and Switchyard Sullivan.  Which brings me to…

UFC over EliteXC — Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to watching people hurt each other on Saturday night without having to shell out bucks for Pay-Per-View, but I have to agree with just about everything in Dan Wetzel's takedown over on Yahoo.  One star does not a legitimate league make.  And neither does one starfucker.  I'm looking at you, Tito Ortiz. (Nice catch by Brooks)

Lesbians over MARINERS — I'm not talking about what I'd rather watch.  I'm saying nine bull dykes could take two of three from the M's.

PISTONS over Celtics (Game 6, 8:30 Eastern tonight) – Wait, is Rip Hamilton playing or not?  Ah, well: I still don't think the C's can close out a series on the road.

THE RACONTEURS over Pistons-Celtics — How come bands I like never play seven-game concerts?

That's all for another week.  Go get some sun.  You're not looking well.

I hate bullshit power rankings, so I make my own. 

1. Old-school Hollywood dancers.  After I watched this awesome video of Fred Astaire dancing to Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal," I remembered how much I dig Ginger Rogers, Leslie Caron, and Cyd Charisse (pictured), among others.  This breed of woman used to be featured every Friday in EDSBS's Cheesecake posts, but it was discontinued because the site's author got tired of commenters bitching about the supposed quality of the women.  Hmm, why does that sound familiar?

2. Christmas Ape.  His venture to LA gave us the Maxim party post and an erudite film review.  Note: we will try not to use the word "erudite" on this site again.

3. Anyone playing the San Antonio Spurs.  Today, a reader asked why With Leather hates them so.  And I say, don't try to analyze something as beautiful as irrational hatred.

4. Bears.  The #1 threat to America since at least 1969.

5. The return of Dice-K news.  Welcome back, gigantic Japanese breasts. 

6. Bowel control.  This guy didn't have it.  To self: Dear sphincter, thank you for working. 

7. Punishment for floppers.  Honestly, if I lacked the pride that keeps me from being a cowardly faker, I think I'd rather be fined than lectured by Red Auerbach.

8. Detroit Red Wings.  Look, hockey's still going on.  Verrrrrry sloooooooowlyyyyyyy.  But if the Red Wings are good enough for Kristen Bell, then, well, I still don't care.  But I would like to see her naked.

9. Vanessa Bryant.  Hot and crazy. And apparently willing to forgive out-of-wedlock anal sex with hotel workers.  Good news for me, I can't quit Romanian bellhops.

10. Eli Manning.  Went to the Sex and the City premiere.  Least surprising story all week. 

This week's video: in honor of last night's Lost finale, here's every nickname Sawyer's tossed around. 

For those sports fans who prefer looking at Jessica Simpson over watching baseball — in other words, all the cool ones — there was some confusion about her relationship with Cowboys QB Tony Romo.  He was rumored to have broken up with her, then he showed up as Jess's date to little sister Ashlee's wedding, where they danced and smooched and all that crap.  The Chicago Sun-Times offers a clarification of the events:

Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo are back ''on,'' but a college pal of the Dallas Cowboys quarterback tells me it's Romo who's calling all the plays. ''He did agree to go to [sister Ashlee's] wedding — keeping his promise to Jessica,'' Romo's Eastern Illinois alum chum told me. ''But he made it super-clear that if they were to give it another go, her dad had to seriously back off.'' [...]

My source says Romo has told Jessica their renewed relationship is ''a trial thing,'' dependent on Daddy Joe ''leaving them alone'' and stifling his tendency to tell Romo how to run his life, career and endorsement deals.

Uh oh, a sternly worded rebuke!  An ultimatum that could result in Jessica losing her boyfriend!  Overbearing showbiz parents who masturbate to their daughters are no match for such reason and bargaining!

Hey Tony, you want Joe off your back?  Gimme a call.  I know some people with a loose sense of ethics and a violent streak.  It's how I made such a smooth transition from the Marines to blogging. 

[Sports by Brooks] 

Yup, it's another spelling bee post that has nothing to do with Erin Andrews, who lives both in awe of these little idiot savants and in the fear of the fact that they may correct her on air. That's much worse than Bruce Pearl groping her while cameras are rolling.

Dan Steinberg, who works for some faded newspaper that just underwent a huge round of buyouts, is on the scene at the Grand Hyatt in D.C. getting all the colorful anecdotes and tidbits that the little overparented freaks produce. In his wanderings, Agent Baldiepants stumbled upon the board where the spellers are trying to organize late-night soccer orgies and dates with Mark Foley.

There's a big bulletin board outside the ballroom on which spellers can send and receive messages. Many of the posted items are entreaties from news organizations for interviews with all spellers from Minnesota, for example, or with a specific speller from a specific city. Others are speller-to-speller missives.

There are the wonders of access, future wage slaves of the MSM: Scribbling entreaties to 4th graders on notebook paper.

I like how the kid had to draw a picture of the soccer ball on the notice, however. Because these kids don't understand the meanings of words, which exist only as peculiar permutations of letters they must memorize so as not to get beaten by their first-generation immigrant parents.

An unnamed douche at an undated Red Sox game gets unseated in a manner most savage by a heroic security official. Showboating for the crowd only makes you an easier target, fucktaster. Getting the arms up is always a good idea. Having them over your head, however, leaves you open to the occasional shoulder charge, like the one this guy takes near the right field foul line. At least the drunkard knows the dimensions of Fenway. That short right field porch lends itself to a quick exit through the stands. That is, if you possess better speed than Harold Baines, which this schlub clearly does not.

[Big League Stew] 

In addition to wreaking lasting and potentially crippling injuries, an NFL game or intense practice can make a participant lose about a half inch of height from the pounding coupled with the heavy equipment adorning them, according to a study reported by CBS News (via SbB). It's only temporary, of course, lest Jerry Rice now measure about about a foot and a half tall. That would make him difficult to film on Dancing With The Stars.

Researchers report that repetitive blocking and tackling — coupled with the weight of helmets and pads – can temporarily shave nearly half an inch off of players' heights.

They studied 10 high school football players — lineman, defensive tackles, and others whose positions involved repetitive blocking and tackling. The average height of players before the game was 69.5 inches. Afterward, it was 69.2 inches.

Sounds grueling. Except when you consider marathon runners can temporarily lose nearly a full inch from the constant pounding. Who's the tough guy now? You guys called the track team wussies when you dunked their faces in the toilet. But they suffered just as much as you! Just wait until the runners carb load. They're gonna be pissed. And they can nipple bleed on you.