In this, the second installment of Eric Adelson's wildly popular column, our favorite foodie offers his devoted readers a heartfelt warning. Eric's so selfless. He's always looking out for his fans ...

Sometimes it falls upon us at the Alyssa blog (TAB, for short) to give a negative review. And alas, it is my duty to tell the public to stop visiting the wildly popular Shake Shack in New York City. I have stood on line at the Madison Square Park burger joint on hot days and cold nights, in sun and rain and sleet, and now I feel the need to stop you all from going.

On my most recent trip, as I waited for an hour in heat that felt like I was standing in the back of a U-Haul stranded in Galveston, I considered ways to make this point to the people. A consumer advocate like myself must prevent his fellow man from eating the 'shroom burger, with its fried, crunchy outside and its gooey, cheesy inside, packed between buns that are equally crunchy and chewy. Gross! And please pass on the Shack burger, with it's Fourth-of-July grilled texture and meatiness. Eeww! America, there's nothing to see here! Stop consuming the reminds-me-of-childhood krinkle-cut fries and the clog-your-straw shakes! Don't let the terrorists think we'll wait in the sunshine for the finest ingredients!

This is a matter of so much personal importance that I will volunteer to stand on line during my next visit to New York and tell those waiting in front of me that a tornado is coming and that the burgers at this place are prepared by squirrels. I will go to Shake Shack as often as possible for the rest of my life, in case the food improves, so I can be the first to relay the good news.

So keep away from Shake Shack until I tell you the coast is clear, stay at home and remember: We at the Alyssa blog are working nonstop for YOU!

ERIC'S EATS VANCOUVER: ERIC SATIATES HIS SWEET TOOTH

Fourth of July weekend is meant to be spent licking barbecue off your fingertips, lying on the beach lost in a good book or stuffing yourself with homemade goodies until you burst like a Roman candle. But it rained in New York City this weekend. And I didn't feel like going far from home.

Thank god. Because this was the greatest sports weekend in a very, very, very long time. John McEnroe might argue it was the Best Weekend Ever. (Who do we have to call to get him a guest spot on that VH-1 show?) I knew it was going to be special; but this weekend went beyond special. I felt as if the HDTV gods had scripted three days especially for me.

Today, I set up possibly the coolest interview I will do this year. It takes place on August 17, in Beijing, about an hour before the final race of the men's 100-meters. The 100 meters is, without a doubt, my favorite single event in sports. It is definitely my favorite 10 seconds. There is nothing quite like watching the fastest men in the world scream past you at seemingly inhuman speeds as you stand, motionless and speechless, on the sideline. I am certain this race—and this interview—will be two of my favorite memories of the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

So, back to that interview. I got a call this morning, offering me a spot in an hour-long, one-on-one press session with Tyson Gay, one hour before the final. Sure, sure. I know what you're thinking: He has to make it to the final in order for this to mean anything. And he has a bum hamstring. Well, I'm not worried. He'll be there. He'll be healed. And he'll be fast. So, without hesitation, I said, "Yes."

"Great," his press agent said. "You get the final spot. You'll be his last interview." His last interview. I will be the last media person Tyson Gay speaks to before he lines up at the start.

I hope, in those 10 minutes, I'm not quite so speechless.

[It's my favorite time here at me.com: GUEST BLOG TIME. In this week's guest blog, my friend and maker of photographic awesomeness, Rob Tringali, reports from high, high, high above Yankee Stadium. After many hours, Rob returned to earth to file this entry. He's still floating from his experience, though.

You may remember Rob's guest blog last entry, from the 2007 MLB ALCS.]

Take it away, Tringali ...

Growing up in the ’70’s watching and attending sports events, a few things signaled a big game to me: Howard Cosell, a guy in the stands with a multi-colored wig holding a John 3:16 sign and the Goodyear Blimp hovering overhead. So when I was offered the opportunity to photograph the 2008 MLB All-Star game from the Direct TV blimp, I jumped at the chance. It sounded like a cool experience: floating high above Yankee Stadium on a warm summer night while the sun was setting. A photographer’s dream.

Ever since I can remember, I've dreamed of being in the circus. I remember sitting in the audience as a kid, daydreaming about walking the tightrope and swinging from the trapeze. It seemed a lot like my gymnastics classes—only it looked like so much more fun. The only time I have ever wished fame upon myself was when the show Circus of the Stars began airing in the late 80s. (If Alyssa Milano can do it, so can I!) But just in case ... When I have the chance (and an extra 60 bucks) I take trapeze classes here in NYC and pretend I still have a shot at a drastic career change.

When I was 6, I came thisclose to living out my dream. I was selected to perform with the Flying Wilendas at the Butler County Fair in Pennsylvania. I had been in gymnastics for a couple years, and could do backhandsprings until I passed out. Apparently, they thought that was cool, so I beat out all the other kids for a chance to be a clown in their show. I was psyched! All I had to do was show up, put on the baggy clown suit and have my face painted, red nose and all. So far, so good. It was the next step I had a bit of trouble with. I was told to wait for my cue, and then run out from behind the curtain and do as many handsprings as I could while Wilendas flipped and twirled high above my head. Easy stuff, right?

Apparently, not. I remember looking at my reflection in the mirror, pausing a moment, and then letting out a scream worthy of Barbara Steele (c'mon horror-flick fans). In my memory, the sight of myself painted up like a tiny version of "It" scared the hell out of me. My mom remembers it a bit differently. She says the sight of thousands of people in the audience scared the hell out of me. My dad says I was, "just being a big baby."

Either way, I never left backstage. I cried, I took off my red nose and colorful clown suit and cried some more. Nothing anyone said could convince me to walk out onto that stage. Of course, a half a mile down the highway, I changed my mind. "I'm ready now. I can do it. Take me back. Take me back," I said, barely audible through huffing six-year-old tears. "It's too late," my mom said. "You had your chance."

Well, this past weekend, I got my second chance. Sort of.

Last week, Roxy skier Sarah Burke and snowboarder Torah Bright stopped by the office to take part in our new favorite game show: Friend vs. Reporter. Check it out.

And while you're at it, get into Olympics mode with my piece on BMXer Donny Robinson, which ran in this issue of the mag—along with never-before-seen video of Robinson's own high school musical.