I don’t know why these sports stories can’t break when Kelly is working, but this one is pretty straightforward — no sports knowledge needed.

Michael Vick, the quarterback who was recently released from prison for illegal dogfighting, has been put on the roster for the Philadelphia Eagles.  He was on their exempt list, but now is allowed to practice with and play for the team.  Hey, he did apologize!  Of course, bringing Vick in meant someone had to go.  Who got the boot?  Kendra Wilkinson’s husband, Hank Baskett!

What will Hank and Kendra do with a baby on the way?  Will Hank get picked up by another team?  How will Kendra handle this stress in the final months of her pregnancy?  Did she do that stupid laugh when she heard the news?  We gotta pray that Kendra stays on the air so we can get all these questions (and more!) answered.

Would it be a proper Wilkinson nuptial if Kendra didn’t flub her vows? No, of course not. I’m just a little disappointed she didn’t write her own. That would have been comedy gold: “Hank, baby, you had me at the grill.”

That said, this is a gorgeous wedding, and Kendra looks very happy. I just know this is going to be a beautiful marriage for her for the next year or two.

Did you guys know that Kendra Wilkinson got married this weekend? No? Well, that’s okay, no one did — the once-guaranteed media blitz around her nuptials was completely eclipsed by Michael Jackson’s death. But the photogs did manage to care enough to snap photos of Kendra and her new hubby, Hank Baskett, going through security at LAX on the way to their honeymoon. Kendra’s wearing a top that says “high maintenance bride.” No, it’s not properly hyphenated, thank you for asking.

Kendra Wilkinson is, in fact, engaged to Hank Baskett Jr., according to a statement from none other than … Hugh Hefner????

“I have given her my blessing and will be giving her away at a very special wedding ceremony at the Playboy Mansion this coming June,” Hefner said.

What. The. Fuck?

This whole business makes it seem like Kendra and Hef were never really in love in the first place!

My world is spinning, I tell you. Spinning like Hugh Hefner’s bed. I feel so betrayed.

You know, I was hanging out with one of my old-time druggie pals back in LA, and he was all like, “You know, sometimes, when I used to smoke crack — like, good crack — I’d have an orgasm. I’d just jizz all over myself, sitting there smoking crack. Without touching myself or anything. So now, porn is a trigger for me. I can’t watch porn because it makes me think of crack.” And I was like, “Woah, dude. That’s intense.”

I’ve never had that experience with anything before, but I think that as soon as one of these girls writes a heartfelt tell-all about the shit that went down behind the scenes with all this, I will just orgasm while reading it. No touching or anything. I’ll just have a full-blown orgasm, reading Beneath the Bunny: The Holly Madison Memoirs or whatever she decides to call it.