HERE'S THE STORY OF THE HURRICANES: In honor of my name being used last week for the season's first hurricane, which thankfully was rather benign as these things go, here's a handy link to the 10 Deadliest Hurricanes in U.S. history, as well as the 10 Costliest and 10 Most Powerful.

ADAM, BOARD UP THE HOUSE! South Philadelphia has seen its share of culinary predators before, such as El Wingador, Derrick Coleman and John Kruk.

However, this may be the worst challenge yet: yo, the dreaded Northern snakehead is across the street from the Linc. Adam, are youse ready?

ALSO, WE HAVE NO MEN'S FIELD HOCKEY TEAM: Five things I learned by reading the NYT's Olympics special section yesterday:

1. KHORKINA! is back. This makes me irrationally happy. The diva is in the house.

2. Among the things which are Olympic sports, even while rugby is not, are Team Rhythmic Gymnastics and Synchronized Diving. Shoot me now.

3. I have officially read enough about Michael Phelps. Okay, he's to butterfly swimming what Michael Johnson was to the 200 meter sprint. Let's see him do it already.

4. Is there a better nickname in all of sports than The Thorpedo? Yeah, I didn't think so. Did you know Ian Thorpe's feet were size 17?

5. This is a lot of television coverage.

I still refuse to believe that Misty May is the name of an actual Olympian.

SILLY RABBIT: In honor of Advertising Week NYC (me neither), Yahoo and the USA Today are running a poll to determine the favorite ad icon of all time and the favorite ad slogan. Since this isn't "the greatest" or "most influential," there's no real way to guess who and what will win, but this blogger put a vote in for Tony the Tiger and "Got Milk?"

One complaint: Where the hell is Spuds MacKenzie?

AS LONG AS WE DON'T HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH "THE SIMPLE LIFE 3," I'M OK WITH IT: The AP reports that over the weekend, an unknown criminal broke into the L.A. home of Paris and Nicky Hilton, where, according to sometime TV star Paris, they stole "Everything ... Just all my valuables. All my jewelry. All my money." Sweetie? I suspect there's a little in the bank still. More hopefully, Paris reports that her beloved chihuahua, Tinkerbell, remained unharmed.

More frighteningly, the report cites an "unnamed source" as saying that among the things stolen were "video tapes and photographs of Paris Hilton with ex-boyfriend Nick Carter." For the good of humanity, I'm afraid of what might be on those videotapes, and where they might show up next.

ABSOLUTELY UNREQUESTED PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: I've become a big fan over the past few weeks of Betty Crocker Snackin' Cake Mixes. I don't cook that often--when you're lucky to get home before 7:30, it's hard to motivate yourself to cook when you get home, so I eat a lot of bad fast food and cheap restaurant dinners--at least when I'm not eating on the firm's dime. But one thing I can do is pop something desert-like in the oven and have it come out half an hour later, hot and fresh. These work great for that, given that they're "just add water" products--no need for milk, eggs, butter, or a separate bowl. Even better? They reheat amazingly well, allowing continuing noshing the next day or even two days later, while keeping that "fresh from the oven" taste. Worth the $2.99.

I KNOW MIKE NICHOLS. MIKE NICHOLS IS A FRIEND OF MINE. YOU'RE NO MIKE NICHOLS. Despite the warning previously posted here, I ventured forth to "Little Black Book" this afternoon. The biggest sin it commits is a simple one--it's not "Working Girl." The film desperately wants to be "Working Girl," and the references fly fast--the manipulative boss, the use of Carly Simon songs, the workplace competition. Heck, Holly Hunter's character has a "Working Girl" poster next to her desk, and the poster is discussed by the two main characters at one point. In fact, I'd bet that a relatively small part played by Sharon Lawrence was actually offered to Melanie Griffith.

That said, the film's not irredeemable. Although, as I feared, Brittany Murphy is largely a black hole of suck, and doesn't successfully pull off the character, which has to be likable despite doing some utterly despicable things. Her acting's weak enough that when she voiceovers "Why do I feel so bad?" you don't think she's feeling bad. The rest of the acting, though, isn't horrid. Though I spent 3/4 of the movie wondering why the hell Holly Hunter took the part, but in the final act, Hunter's character finally gets a couple of truly great speeches, which makes you see what Hunter might have seen in the script. The other good news? Ron Livingston demonstrates exactly why he should play Myron Bolitar, if those books ever get made into movies. He's easy and charming in his part, and I can picture him finally doing that.

It also features the most bizarre rock star cameo of the year--no, not one at the end (though there's one there, too), but Gavin Rossdale in a relatively small role.