Usually, I'm so lazy and can't face rewatching hours and hours of this tripe after a hard day's work in one of AOL-Time Warner's dancing puppet coal mines, but I'm actually going away this weekend for once, so I'm on a collision course to get this thing finished before Friday. I'm giving fair warning that things could get a little weird in here.

You know, after watching it in Scotland in January, I was so very excited for The Weakest Link to lap at our shores, but now I'm just so sick of it I probably won't even watch it in April.

Excessive panting. Can't Shaggy and Riley ever give it a rest? Suddenly, inciting even greater stomach turning, PlasticMan and Anna pop up to the surface for air. "Sorry about your chair," Anna gasps. "Oh, I'll just buy a new one," PlasticMan pants back. Anna asks him to get a softer rug as well because she's "chafed." You know, even saying she got rug burn would be more palatable than saying she got "chafed." Lots more slobbering, panting, and saying "amazing," and is that her shoe he has clutched in his hand? You know what, I don't even want to know. Anna, the vain coquette, asks which part was amazing. "Right now?" PlasticMan asks. "Your ass hanging down to your toenails." I hit rewind and find he says "[her] breath on [his] earlobes." Funny how I choose not to remember it that way. PlasticMan says, "It's so nice being with you," in Aw-I-Want-To-Cuddle-Now tones. Anna agrees and then jumps up, saying she has to go. As she throws on clothes, PlasticMan (figuratively) scratches his big plastic head. Anna tells him that since they agreed to take things slow, her staying over would be the opposite of that. PlasticMan still holds a shoe of hers in one hand -- and now he's got a pair of hot pink lace peen-tees in the other -- as Anna explains that The Sex was good stress relief, but sleeping over "defines a relationship." Suddenly panting again, she throws an arm on his shoulder (ew, he's all slicky and nasty with sweat, and I'll bet that suit jacket is "dry clean only"!) and kisses him goodbye. PlasticMan mmmm-smoooches her back and says, "You know, dating you is like dating a guy." Anna corrects him, saying that they're having sex, not dating, and suddenly I see how stringed-out and sweat-sodden her hair is. PlasticMan has a 45 watt-er: "Oh, oh, here's a thought, if we keep fooling around until we have to go to work, technically, you wouldn't be sleeping over, right?" Anna ponders this as they gasp and dab at each other some more. "You up for it?" he asks. Anna guffaws and says she doesn't think that's the question. Then they laugh together, and Anna's open mouth threatens to engulf PlasticMan's cranium. PlasticMan gets up, saying he needs some Gatorade , so I guess they're going for it. He half-stumbles, half-limps to the door (did anyone wonder if there was any nylon-around-the-knees going on because of his difficulty in walking? Okay, maybe I'm the perv) and opens it to Shaggy's (enraged? confused?) face. "What's the look?" PlasticMan asks. As if answering the door stark-staring-nekkid wasn't look-worthy enough. PlasticMan looks down in that direction and -- aww, man, Shaggy looks down there too! "Total awe," Shaggy says.