Jennifer Lopez To Michael Phelps: FUCK YOU, Playa!

Dear JLo, **

I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!

In fact, "I'm typing so fucking hard I might break my fucking Mac book Air!!!!!!!!"

For realzy.

I heard about your interview the other day on GMA...i guess your ass is training for the Malibu Triathalon! Only six months after giving birth to your twinsies! AND NOBODY'S FUCKING NOTICED!? WTF!?

"Lopez, who appeared on "Good Morning America" Aug. 18 to discuss her preparations for the Malibu Triathlon, was overheard saying after the segment that she “couldn’t understand why everyone is talking about that swimmer,” according to a GMA source. “She couldn’t come up with (eight-time gold-medal winner Michael) Phelps’ name, and then she yammered on about how she was the one training for a triathlon just six months after giving birth, and how that was the big story right now, not ‘the swimmer.’ ”

You know what, Jen...you're right!

First of all: Michael Phelps is a total asshole douchebag. He can take his eight Olympic gold medals, his 3 egg-n-cheeses on a roll for breakfast, and his goddammed frosted flakes, and shove em' all straight down his little swim trunks.

BOO YA!

Second of all: You're a Grammy winning, hit-song singin,' baby mama hottie! You fucked Ben Affleck...and Diddy! You're Jenny From the Block, yo!

As far as I'm concerned, NBC should yank all this motherfuckin' Olympic coverage right the fuck now, and switch over to an all Jenny all-the-time slate of programming.

I mean, I wanna see your ass in the pool doin' laps! I want to see you out on the beach, running in a bikini! I wanna see you in your cute ass little bike helmet and those hott, hott little bike shorts as you ride down the PCH with Emme and Max in those little baby seats on the back!

WHO CARES about that stupid, dumb, douchey swimmer!? Or the boring, lame ass Olympics!? Not ME motherfuckers!!!!

I am so not fooled by the rocks that you got, bia.

See u on race day!
me

'Pour Some Sugar on Me,' Michael Phelps...Frosted Flakes Taste Way Better Than Wheaties (Obvs)

(photo: perezhilton.com)

Dear Michael Phelps, ***

So, like a few people are pretty pissed off at your ass over the fact that you chose to grace the box of sugary sweet, not a vitamin in sight Frosted Flakes, over the fiber-rich, vitamin fortified, disgusting tasting Wheaties.

Apparently Frosted Flakes has 3x the amount of sugar and 1/3 of the fiber that Wheaties does, or some shit like that, and everyone is concerned about the message this will send to all the kids who'll be worshipping the ground you walk on post Olympics.

Uhm, what's the prob people??

Of course this sends a message to kids!

And the message is this: SUGAR TASTES VERY FUCKING GOOD!

Duh.

And, also the message is probs a little bit this: If you eat Frosted Flakes, you rule (and could totally be a future Olympic athlete) and if you eat Wheaties, you're a pathetic loser (who probably can't even make the team).

I for one say, thank you, Michael Phelps, for pointing out this very obvious shit to some very clueless people.

Now as a public service to all my bias, I decided to take my ass straight out to Key Food and purchase a box of Frosted Flakes AND a box of Wheaties so that I could perform a scientific taste test in my own kitchen and decide once and for all, who's in the right here.

As suspected, the test results were as follows:

Frosted Flakes = completely fucking delicious (ate two bowls)
Wheaties = a tastebud abortion (could not eat more than two bites)

It's hard to argue with the truth, people.

Anyway, Mikey, I'm really starting to think that you and I should totally get together for breakfast!

Fuck fiber,
m.e.

Diddy to World: 'I Will Fuck My Way To An Olympic Gold Medal' (Gawd Bless America)

Dear Olympics Executive Committee, ***

I assume you, no doubt, have your hands full at the moment with the Summer Games of '08 in full swing-n-all, but I think I express the collective voice of the American people here, and so I thought it would be appropriate to write.

I'm not sure what the proper protocol is for adding a new event to the already bulging Olympic summer roster, but even with all the table tennis, curling, synchronized individual swimming, archery, AND handball competitions, there is still an event whose absence is glaringly apparent to me and all other citizens of our world: S-E-X.

Yes, Sex.

I'm guessing that it takes time for a new competition category to find its way (its g-spot, if you will) into the collective minds of sports fans across the world, but like also, I'm pretty certain that most people would really, really, dig this right off the bat.

I don't want to step on anyone's toes over there, but obvs the first two competitions within this cateogry should be: who can last the longest, and who can stay hard the longest.

Duh, right?

Our potential American athlete's identities for this new category of competition is strictly confidential, but suffice it to say, we have one athlete currently in training who's greatness and legend potential is destined to rival that of Michael Phelps with his astonishing stamina, prowess, size, and a secret weapon we like to call his "special sauce."

Kind sirs, we are so confident that this category of competition has Olympic potential, our athletes have already begun a grueling and rigorous training schedule in preparation of your imminent acceptance.

Needless to say, we're like really anxious to get this party started.

Please get back to me as soon as possible so that we may make all the needed changes to NBC's broadcast schedule, our travel arrangements, etc.

We're in it to win it.
For realz,
m.e.

You May Have Won 1,000 Gold Medals, Michael Phelps, But That Doesn't Mean That You're Not A Major Asshole

Dear Michael Phelps, ***

You're quite the little mer-man, huh?

As of last count, you've already won eight gold medals at the Olympic games in Beijing, making you like the most successful Olympic athlete in the history of the universe. Your ass is pretty much the talk of the town for the good ole U.S. of A, so like congrats.

Not that I've been watching you (because I hate the Olympics), but I do like to stay on top of what's going on in the world so I don't look like an idiot if I'm ever required to make small talk with someone in an elevator or at a drug possession hearing or something.

So yeah, you're a kick ass swimmer, you're pretty hot, and also you have really nice man rivers. I mean, you seem like a nice enough dude and gold medals are cool-n-all, so I really had nothing against you...until, that is, I saw this:

"They did a special piece on Phelps before tonight’s coverage began in which Phelps mentioned that he must eat up to 10,000 calories a day. For breakfast that includes 3 fried-egg sandwiches, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions, and mayonnaise, an omelette, a bowl of grits, and three slices of french toast with powdered sugar, all washed down with 3 chocolate chip pancakes. "

See, now that seriously pisses me off. And now I kinda think that you're a major asshole. Why you gotta start sayin' shit like that??

Here's why I got beef:

Wanna know what I had for breakfast this morning??

• yogurt
• 1/4 of a cup of puffed cereal

Wanna know what I WISHED I had for breakfast this morning?

• 3 fried egg sandwiches (w/ cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions & mayo)
• an omelette
• 3 slices of french toast w/ powdered sugar
  
• 3 chocolate chip pancakes

Right.

I'm pretty sure I hate you, Michael Phelps.

So, like I get that you are swimming your little ass off all the live long day and that that's the only reason you can eat like this, but also I probably really would have appreciated you lying.

I mean, I've basically gotta use every single freakin molecule of willpower I have floatin around in my brain not to eat all that shit every morning, and you mentioning that fried egg and cheese sandys are part of your everyday properly balanced breakfast lookin all hot and ripped like you do...well, its kind of a slap in the face, Michael.

I don't like hearin about how you eat 10,000+ calories a day when I'm fighting off an urge to down an entire bag of puffed cheetos in the middle of the afternoon. Or remembering how you're pretty much on the "all pizza and pasta all the time" diet as I go to heat up my Lean Cuisine Swedish Meatball meal.

I'm pretty sure I speak for chubsters everywhere when I say that some things in life need to remain private...and this is exactly the sort of shit that your little swim trunk'd ass needs to keep on the DL.

Thx.

Check yourself before you wreck yourself,
my fat ass

Olympics = CRAP

Dear Olympics, *

I'm not going to beat around the bush here: I. Hate. You.

I'm not sure if this is related to the fact that I was always chosen last for the team in gym class or if it has something to do with the fact that I don't really like Gatorade very much, but seriously, you show up and I start feeling like this Taylor Gay guy.

You're like this relentless virus that infects my already taxed Summer TV schedule, weasel-ing your way into one too many episodes of Celebrity Family Feud or a great repeat of The Office for some inane Handball competition or Archery event showdown whateverthefucktitscalled.

I'm not touched.

I'm not moved.

I'm A-N-N-O-Y-E-D.

The whole forced "rah, rah I love America" requisite crap is not appreciated either. I mean I do love America-n-shit...but not because we have great fucking synchronized swimmers. We just celebrated our love for America by setting fireworks off out of our asses on July 4th--can't that be enough??

It's hot as shit out and all I've got after a hard fucking day at work, and no seat on the subway, and sweating my ass off on the walk home with my heavy bag when I know damn well there's nothing to eat for dinner (and my freakin dog needs to be walked), is the prospect of some motherfucking Baby Borrowers. And even THAT gets taken away from me by your gold, bronze and silver ass.

Call me un-American, if you want--I can take it. I just wish you'd stay the eff off of my flatscreen.

goin' for the gold,
me