Well, so, I got a little tiny bit pissed off earlier today. And while I was sinking into bleakly brooding, instead of swimming and frolicking, I pondered what on earth I could do about it. Almost everyone here is totally cool and funny, and we all appreciate that. But for those of you who seriously just cannot chill, I've come up with a new, special death for you. I call it, Weekend Death.

Hey, it's the Puerto Rican Day Parade! Yay! It's so fun-and frightening as fuck for moneyed white people! "Fifth Avenue co-ops stopped boarding up their façades for the National Puerto Rican Day Parade after Mayor Bloomberg gave them a stern warning-and promised additional cops-in 2005. But that doesn't mean the entire Upper East Side will stay open for business this year on the day of the parade, June 8. Via Quadronno at Madison Avenue and 73rd Street, where hedge-funders, socialites, and media moguls-including Martha Stewart-get their $4 espressos, closes for just four days each year: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and a certain spring day."

On last night's splendiferous, Sayesha-ejecting American Idol results show—like nasty walnut chunks in maple ice cream, she was utterly ruining our pure, David-savoring experience—third season Idol winner Fantasia Barrino stopped by the Karoakedome to perform. And yet "perform" seems not quite the sufficient term in this instance—rather, she seemed literally belched from some fiery, subterranean afterworld miles beneath CBS Television City, accompanied by a chorus of winged backup-demons. The audience—many of whom were still enjoying the pleasant, torpor-inducing effects of David Archuleta singing about "fishes in the ocean"—reacted as though they had just been smacked against the side of the head with a hooker's club foot.