With the return of the Tuesday Top Five yesterday, it's only fair that I should deliver on the Wednesday Bottom One. In the weeks that I've been away, there have been a lot of news items and general gripes that could have made it. Hell, there are a few things today. Consider:

* The tool who runs a cheesesteak stand in Philadelphia (least favorite city of Our Man in LA) who put a sign in his establishment advertising that he would only serve people who spoke English. As I'm sure you're aware, grown men who hawk cheesesteaks for a living and answer to "Joey" probably aren't noted for their amazing economy with words, nor a masterful vocabulary in the Queen's English.

On the upside, Joey does appear to be racist and jingoistic. So thumbs up to Joe.

* Or how about this: Evil mastermind, er, Bush strategist Karl Rove won't be charged in the Valerie Plame affair. I assume his get out of court free card might - just might - have something to do with him "knowing a guy." Well, that and the fact that most Americans just don't care about the Plame affair, choosing instead to watch DANCING WITH THE STARS, vote guys like Bush into office, and cheer on tools like Joey in Philadelphia for "sticking it to those foreign types."

* And then there's this . . . which doesn't really qualify as a Bottom One so much as a head scratcher. As you might have heard, the National Hockey League is having its Stanley Cup Finals right now. That's the big shebang. The whole enchilada. The big championship. I haven't seen a game, but I understand that my wife's hometown Carolina Hurricanes are winning.

Apparently, though, nobody else has seen a game, either. Last night's game 4 showed in Los Angeles - America's #2 TV market - and ratings indicate that the hockey game was eclipsed . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

By I LOVE LUCY reruns on Channel 11.

I think it's just possible that hockey's got a bit of a popularity problem. A bit.

But see, none of that is Bottom One material. Oh no. Because almost nothing could eclipse this one. The return of the Wednesday Bottom One welcomes . . .

(Drumroll please)

JENNIFER ANNISTON MOVIES!

So here's the thing. I like Jennifer Anniston. She's cute. She's got great comic timing, and I thought she was a lot of fun on TV's FRIENDS. She could do the physical comedy, she could do the wordplay, and after Matthew Perry, she might have been the funniest of the bunch.

Her movie choices, on the other hand, they've, well, they've sucked.

Consider:

* FRIENDS WITH MONEY, a movie so tediously awful in every way that my wife refused to allow me to say the words "Friends", "with", or "Money" for several days after a viewing. And it was her idea to see it! That didn't matter. We're still not allowed to use the whole title around this house. If we must refer to the film, we call it $28.50, which refers to the price of two tickets, two diet cokes, and two pretzels at the Pasadena theater where we had the misfortune to view it.

Self-indulgent, boring, with bad characters, bad writing and bad acting. I know some critics liked it, but I can only believe that those critic smoke a lot of crack. Awful, awful, awful.

* RUMOR HAS IT, which showed on my plane from Frankfurt to LA. I watched this one instead of Steve Martin's horrible-looking PINK PANTHER remake, and I think I made the wrong call. Hard to say, but I think I did. Not funny. Not one bit. Hated the characters, hated the story, and just, well, hated everything. Awful, awful movie that wastes Anniston, as well as co-stars Mark Ruffalo and Shirley MacLaine. It's some kind of movie that makes you wish Kevin Costner would start making post-apocalyptic sci-fi movies again, but this is it.

And really, seriously, what happened to Rob Reiner?

Then this weekend, there was . . .

* THE BREAK-UP, which just made me sad. I like Vince Vaughn, and he's funny in a couple of scenes. If you're a Vince Vaughn completist, go and see it, I guess. Otherwise, don't even rent it. I mean, yeah, there are some jokes, but it goes nowhere, and worse, you really, really don't give a rat's butt whether they stay together in their ludicrously expensive North Side of Chicago condo or not. You just don't.

It's the kind of movie that had my rule-abiding wife wondering aloud, "Should we sneak into another movie? I know that PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION's only got about 30 minutes less, but that might be better . . ." And again, seeing this was her idea!

So here's the thing. Brad Pitt has won the movie-off with his ex-wife, no matter how mediocre MR AND MRS SMITH was. And I rooted for her. But yikes. And did anyone - anyone at all - see that flick with her and Clive Owen? Anybody? Bueller?

So until Anniston takes it back to the small screen and puts together a sitcom - say a 21st century MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW or something, I've cashed in the chips.

Ugh. Maybe even with that, I'll be hesitant. Burn me once, shame on her. Burn me with three horrible movies, well, shame on . . . someone.