Pre-Heat: My mother got the cotton from a Q-Tip lodged in her ear and has to visit the doctor. Such a pedigree I boast. Jack.

Heat opening. Let's get it started. Retardedly. Explode. Sign: "CARBS RULE!" Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Coachman! Sign: "WHERE'S KATY VICK?" She's dead, dude. Show some class.

I Should Have Stood Back While Chuck Was Breaking My Fucking Nose v. Breaker, Breaker, I'm Gonna Drive This Big Rig Through Your Nasal Cavity, Good Buddy

Hurricane makes friends with some aspiring young nerds. Soon, his nose will explode, and they'll be traumatized for life. Now is the time for our weekly "Chuck Reminds Me Of..." segment. Chuck reminds me of Kyle Farnsworth. And now Richard Nixon, as he's doing that double victory sign thing. "I WILL BREAK THIS MANY NOSES!" Chuck shouts. I'm going to make up a lot of shit this week.

Chuck either licked his finger or picked his nose really fast. Such a nose braggadocio. The Hurricane extends the Hand of Mellonship. Thumbs-up! Palumbo looks to accept but our hero WITHDRAWS OH HO YOU GOT SERVED, CITIZEN. Coach: "The Hurricane gettin' a little frisky, maybe a little big for his britches." Garak could hem those right up for you, Hurricane. Chuck's naked lady belt makes The Hurricane uncomfortable. Palumbo's pissed, and we're finally going to lock up. Not that there's been that much stalling, I just refuse to shut up.

Grapple, Hurricane's quickly shoved down. Chucky don't play. Child's Play. Our hero makes his kissyface face. Clap, clap, clap. Hurricane dodges a lockup, goes behind, and applies a side headlock. Crankin' it on in spastic Randy Orton style. Chuck fails to give him the ol' heave-ho. Whipped off, and The Hurricane gets knocked retarded by a shoulderblock. Palumbo talks trash, because he dresses like a garbage man. Hurricane distracts him with a pose, then thumbs the eye. Right hands. Whip reversed, but Hurricane pulls up short to avoid the mafia kick. He gives Charles a hand. Palumbo rushes in FURIOUS ANGER and gets dumped to the floor.

Chuck's none the worse for wear, because he landed on his feet. That's why he wears Keds, folks! I'm punchy tonight because I already know how goddamned awesome this show is. Our hero identifies Mr. Palumbo as a "big boy" while inviting him back in. Is The Hurricane a male prostitute? Palumbo gets referee Jack Doan to chide The Hurricane, then drags him outside. Hurricane, not Jack. Palumbo heaves Hurricane over his shoulder and LAUNCHES him into a barricade hotshot! Was that the end of the nose as we know it? Hurricane crawls back in, where Chuck chucks him into the corner. Maybe the ringpost claimed the nose right there. Who nose. Hahaha, yeah! Charles picks our hero up and plows him into the corner. Stompy. Hurricane's really covering up. A million more stomps.

Hurricane's dead. Nerds need their noses to power their adorably nasal voices. Palumbo bowls him over with a kneelift. Snapmare, off the ropes, spine kick. It's the cravat, baby! Chuck has really white teeth. As a metrosexual, I notice these things. Hurricane punches free of the cravat. But Palumbo catches a kick and massacres him with a short-arm clothesline! More braggadociousness precedes a cover for two. Al: "Even with a mask, you can tell Hurricane's nose is plastered all over the front of his face." Ick. Back to the cravat. Again, Hurricane punches, but Palumbo staggers him with a forearm. Off the ropes, right hand from The Hurricane. Two more. Whip reversed, head down too soon, and Chuck gets kicked. He walks it off. Leaping lariat! One more! 1, 2, Chuck kicks out.

Coach: "Chuck's a Saul at 280." I honestly have no idea what he just said. Corner whip reversed by Saul, but The Hurricane slings up to send him through the ropes with a headscissors. Our hero lies in wait... pescado wipes out Chuck! Back in, Hurricane jackknifes into a pin for two. Jackknifes. Because Chuck drives a truck. Setting up the Eye of the Hurricane, which is located slightly above the Shattered Nose of the Hurricane, but Palumbo goes behind for a schoolboy. Grabbin' the middle rope, 1, 2, no! Kneelift to the head by Palumbo. Corner whip, but Chuck rambles on into boots. Hurricane ascends... flying crossbody! 1, 2, no. Hurricane calls the Shining Saruman, but Chuck boots him in the gut. Scoop, no, Hurricane goes behind. Off the ropes, but Chuck grabs him, turns away from the ref, and knees him right in the dice pouch! Or, if you're Al Snow, "pansterhamster"(?) Palumbo lifts Hurricane in powerslam position and sends him up for the Samoan-Italian drop! The Upchuck, as I like to call it. 1, 2, 3. Post-match, Chuck is like "Got your nose!" and Hurricane is all "OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY DO OW OW." It sure is hilarious when one of my top five favorite guys needs surgery. Go convalesce, you poor little feller. Bubber.

Jazz vs. Victoria later. Right here on Sunday Night Flower.

Commercials. Stop saying "Jackpot" like a duck, Joe Schmo guy. All I need's a murder machine. Like Mongoose McQueen. I think I hate Jericho. I'd like to see Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie, which is awfully embarrassing.

From RAW, Regal injected Triple Haitch with his violent venom. Everything turns black-and-white as Regal is bloody-well bloodied. It's like an old-timey Vaudeville act! Who's on first? The answer is "Jack". Coach lets us know that William Regal broke his orbital bone. Now he'll never be able to go into outer space on a rocketship and urinate on the flight attendants.

Commercials. I am ON FIRE tonight, baby! Don't you come up in my wheelhouse. Benoit "never put the puzzle together". Arn wanted to find the corner pieces first, but Malenko thought they should gather up all the ones of similar color. Friends became enemies that night. Kate Beckinsale's hair smells potentially nice. Stevie would know. Hey, don't SPOP:ER your own rebeak, there, buddy. And don't talk to yourself. Dr. Angus plays the cello for pleeesure. There's always room for cello. Open Water is "the best shark movie since Jaws!" Better than... uh... that one with Samuel Jackson? White Men Can't Jump? Mark Jindrak can jump, buster. He gravitates to The Air Up There.

How long was that commercial break? Jesus. The Anacondas Slam of the Week is Victoria losing last week because Stevie picked an inopportune time to holla at his boo.

DRAMA!!! Please put your hands together for The Sunday Night Heat Players.

SCENE I.

San Antonio, where folks know what salsa should taste like.

Some corridor. In which salsa is made. I assume.

Enter FLOWER, who is a MAN ON A MISSION, like MABEL. She spots STEVIE signing off on some IMPORTANT STEVIECORP DOCUMENTS with SOME FATTY that I'm going to pretend is ME.

VICTORIA
Stevie, I need to talk to you.

STEVIE
[Muffled] Thank you very much.

THE NEXT MIDEON
Thanks, boss!

Exeunt FATTY.

STEVIE
[To Victoria] Can I help you?

VICTORIA
Stevie, what the heck is your problem? You interrupt my match last week. Do you know you caused me to lose? And you want to talk at that point?

STEVIE
Alright, again, again, I... I guess it was inconvenient to wanna talk to you right at that particular time.

VICTORIA
Yes, it was!

STEVIE
But there's plenty of times, Victoria, where it was inconvenient for me, and I still listened to you. I was still there for you. But now, all of a sudden, some woman(!) comes out, saves you three, four, five weeks in a row, and now you guys are best buddies.

VICTORIA
Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don't even know who she is, Stevie.

STEVIE
[Laughing in disbelief] I guess she's some sort of "mysterious woman" then, Victoria, I guess. You know what... the point is, I thought you were somebody different. I thought you were more different than any other woman, ANY OTHER WOMAN, that I've ever known in my life. But you're not different. You're all the same. You're just like every other girl that's ever broken my heart. You're just like every other woman that I've ever known in my life. Self-absorbed. Selfish. UN-GREAAAT-FULLL. [Mood swing] Oh, come on, Victoria. Say... [SNIFFING HER HAIR!!!!!]

VICTORIA
[Reclaiming her hair] Stevie, you need some SERIOUS HELP.

Exeunt FLOWER, leaving STEVIE to SMELL HIS FUCKING FINGERS.

Now that was just the best thing ever. SNIFFING! There are no mountains on the Steviegeti!!! No Widow's Peaks.

Yeah, Hair Smells Good v. Adam Bomb?

After what happened in the first match, it was rather insensitive of Stevie to flaunt his fully-functional nose like that. Coach has "a bone to pick" with Val. Homo. He also likes to pick 'em. In other news, the Divas won't stop callin' Tha Coach. Joy calls him for joy. She calls him for pleeesure. Val has some boring new panties. Black with a pinkish "VENIS" printed over a squiggly, penile V. He will be facing "Bio-Hazard". Or "Terence Bigglesworth Babaganoush", if you prefer. He sports an ugly, Rob Van Dammish onesie. All the radiation Bio-Hazard was exposed to down at the Steak 'N Shake left him sterile, and now he's resentful of Val's big, sexy sperm. I like to give my jobber matches a backstory.

Lockup, Val wrings the arm. Reversed by Bio-Hazard, who flips Val down. Venis kips up to reverse once more. Al tells lame Bio-Hazard jokes and Coach wets his pants with laughter. Shoulder charges to the arm from Venis. There's an armdrag throw, I guess. Al worked "sterile" in there. He and I are of the same lame breed. B.H. takes a hiptoss, followed by a drop toehold. Val swivels his hips to induce vomiting. That would have been helpful had I ingested any harmful substances. You're always looking out for me, Val. Al: "I had a Diva beating on my door last night." Coach: "You did?" Al: "Yeah, then I got up and let her out." Coach: "We know that's not true." Al: "No, I wouldn't let her out." Al's rapist gimmick = RATINGS.

Bio-Hazard gets sassy before Val shoves him down. Forearm. Venusian whip, back elbow. Scoop and a slam. Val hits the ropes and drops a knee on the chest. Time for mounted punching, but referee Chris Kay won't stand for it. He loves Bio-Hazard with all his heart. B.H. rolls to the apron for a breather. He bought enough time to recover and poke Val in the eye. Coach, on Kay: "This is one of the bright, young, new referees in the WWE today." Huh. Legsweep from Ali Babaganoush. He hits the ropes to jack Val in the face with a running knee. 1, 2, no.

Venis convalesces in the corner, luring Bio-Jobber into a boot. Val clobbers B.H. with a shoulderblock that knocks him into the ropes all awkwardly. Running kneelift sequence. Double underhook kneelifts are a prelude to the butterfly suplex. Kick, swing ducked, half-nelson uranage! Val climbs on up and nails The Ejaculator. 1, 2, 3. Farewell, B.O. Hazard. Signs: "S-E-X-Y". Pointless.

Diva garbage from RAW. Fresh Young Toddy G gets the exclusive interview with the vanquished Camille. EXCLUSIVELY BORING!!!11!!8

Commercials. Jackpot. Jackpot. Shucky ducky. If a friend has a problem with being run over by Chuck Palumbo's log-haulin' truck, he needs your help. Tom Cruise is "a cool guy". He is "fly". Buy Predator on DVD. It has a lot of politicians in it.

The Wrangler Wrewing is RAW's battle royal from two weeks ago.

Back to RAW, let's watch some of the six-man tag. Well, you can. I don't wanna.

Summerslam hype. Well, I'm gonna eat a boat, I'm a-gonna eat a dinghy. Boat-eating is ChainClaw's legacy. The Triple Threat features "No Friends! All Enemies!" Oreo: Oops! All Enemies! Paul London may also be a Romulan. Just like DJ Connor. Coach says "off da hizzy fo' shizzy". Snoop can't possibly approve.

Commercials. Either Shelton or Christian better return tomorrow night, or I'm going to pitch a bitch. I'll pitch it right up in your wheelhouse. At a high rate of speed. Whatchoo think of that, No-mar? Nomar sort of reminds me of Kidman. Or Adrien Brody. Beyonce's fiancee.

Easy Listening v. The Spiders In My Hair Emit Pleeesant Odors

GO! GO! GO! Hey, Flower invested in some pants. Almost a shiny silver leotard. Odd. There's an artist's rendition of Victoria, crazy-style. Those were the days. I bet hair-sniffing wasn't frowned upon back then.

Lockup, side headlock from Victoria. Whipped off, but Jazz falls to the shoulderblock. Flower's quick cover gets a one count. "Rodney Mack's penis is this small," says she. "Don't nobody talk about mah man, honey!" Jazz retorts. Because I'm racist. She shoves Victoria down. Jazz don't play. Unless it's sultry saxophone music. Al, on Lita, for some reason: "She's got more issues than Marvel comics!" That made The Hurricane laugh. But then his nose hurt. Aww.

Anywho, Flower shoves Jazz right back, then gets kicked. Jazz applies the side headlock this time. Whipped off, shoulderblock by Jazz, one count. It's Deja Vu all over again. Like in that Gail Kim movie. Not Anal Asians, but the one with all the sunglasses and binary numbers. I believe Jazz is insulting Mr. Richards' penis at this point. Kick. Flower's arm is wrung. Corner whip, but Victoria slings over a charge. She runs for her life to the opposite corner and springs into a second rope crossbody! 1, 2, no.

Deep armdrag by Victoria. Scoop slam. Awwwwwww SHAKY-SHAKY MOONSAULT! 1, 2, no! Jazz has had her fill. Of delicious crawfish. But Victoria's not done. She floors Jazz with a baseball slide dropkick. Learned during her college days as a Richmond Spider, no doubt. Victoria follows outside for right hands. Jazz'z head meets the apron. Back in, cover, 1, 2, no. Let's pay some billzzzzz.

Commercials. Special Ed is an irresistible woman. As it turns out, the Angus Diet is not a real diet. Please stop shaking your rumpus at me, Wesley Snipes.

We return to find Jazz gettin' whipped. Firewoman's carry by Victoria... into the Spiderweb! 1, 2, no! Whip, clothesline by Victoria. 1, 2, still no. Flower charges but takes a backdrop to the apron. Jazz decks her in the ribs. Now she launches Victoria's shoulder into the ringpost! Ow. Jazz pursues outside. Catapult into the barricade! Don't break your nose, Victoria. Her shoulder bore the brunt of the impact. Jazz rolls back in and tells referee Chad Patten to do his civic countout duty. Ms. Mack grows bored after three seconds, so she tosses Flower back in.

Rope-assisted camel clutch by Jazz. She breaks, then re-applies one more time. Face clubberies. Jazz rolls outside to drive elbows into the back of Victoria's neck. Kick right to the face as Flower's hung up on the apron! Damn. Jevastatin' Jazz. Back in, 1, 2, Victoria grabs the bottom rope. Jazz applies a wristlock of some sort, but Victoria stands and breaks it. Jazz improvises with shoulder charges to the injured arm. Victoria: "Oh my God." Haha. Poor dear. Jazz employs a bodyslam. Off the ropes for a falling elbowdrop. As opposed to a horizontal elbowdrop. 1, 2, no. Nice butterfly suplex from Jazz. Victoria's spiders would have eaten that butterfly back in the day.

Jazz brings the weight of her rumpus right down on Flower's injured shoulder. Junk in the trunk. Butterfly suplex #2! Cover, 1, 2, no. New Orleans whip, head down too soon, and Jazz gets kicked. Victoria hammers her with rights. Whip, clothesline! One more! Corner whip, but Flower runs into a back elbow. Fisherwomanbuster by Jazz!!! 1, 2, NO! Jazz is displeased. She hangs Victoria up in the Tree of Gumbo. Al: "...the Tree of Woe, made popular by Kevin Sullivan!" Jazz fetches a steel chair. She's a baaaad man. But Steve McQueen will have none of it! Premeditated wiggery! The "mysterious woman" snatches the chair from Jazz and shoves her down yet again! Chad had nothin' better to look at, so Victoria has become The Dairy Queen.

Post-match, Flower cowers in the corner as Stevie gawks at her all eerily. Cower power. Oh shit, is he gonna de-wig??? He may have been contemplating it, but A Jealous Husband is all "OH NO YOU AIN'T!!!" CLOTHESLINE FOR MACK! HELL YES!!! Al: "Chicks are tough!" The battle royal merger has gone south! Rodney Mack just felt the Corporate POUUUUUNNNNNCE! Period! End of document! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF, MADAM! OMG HOTT!!! He won't lose the wig. Tease. Stevie does work the kinks out of his neck in spectacular fashion before readjusting it, however. So great. He eyeballs Victoria, then wanders off. We're out. Watch RAW from the Gund Arena. Gordon Gund is blind, and even he knows who the "mystery woman" is.

Final Thoughts: We have all become entangled in Charlotte's Web. I fucking love Heat.