Name: Lance [“Sir Lance-A-Not!”] Armstrong

Tour de Lance my ass! Go home and be a real father to your children and stop living in sin with Sheryl Crow. By the way, just to let you know Lance, your Cancer Card is expired. Stop trying to use it everywhere you go! You’re not the only guy who beat cancer – just the only one who thinks he can cheat/lie/steal to win the Tour de France just because he did!

Even if your life depends on it, don't objectify him because: He’s the real freaking damn reason why the French hate us!

OK, listen, we know what you're going to say. . .

But, what if he's cute? No because. . .He’s not cute. . .he is no where even in the vicinity of cute, he is not even in the remote periphery of cute. . .uh, do I really have to go on. . .?

What if he's rich? No, because. . .He’s got three kids + a wife he walked out on that he’s got to pay through the ear, nose and throat for. . .which delights me to no damn end! You go ex- Mrs. Armstrong! Bleed that sucker like a leech! (By the by, what the hell were you thinking/smoking/drinking by marrying that lipless chap, anyway?)*

What if he has a cure for cancer? No because. . .Well, this fugger just might have the damn cure. After all, he beat a particularly virulent form of testicular cancer thanks to the “wonder drugs” (i.e. eye of newt, tongue of frog) concocted by the mad scientists over at Glaxco Welcom or whatever the fudge pharmaceutical he sold his soul, er, got treatment from. . .

What if he gives me loose diamonds/an island in Fiji/51% ownership in the football team he owns? (Lord, we feel your pain. . .specifically about the loose diamonds!) Still, no you can't objectify him because. . .You might have to beat up Sheryl Crow because of course, she would be pissed, although, beating up Sheryl Crow might not be a bad idea. . .might do her damn raspy vocal cords some damn good. . .tell me again why that twat keeps winning Grammy’s? Oh, because she gaps her legs. . .okay, I’ll be sure to remember that. . .

Bottom line is, with him as a table, sushi would taste like: That saliva the crowd spit at him as he cycled through the streets on the way to his sixth Tour de France victory.

*See Glamour Diva’s post on the unseemliness of lipless men