So this is cool: while working on an ad campaign for Ciroc vodka, Michael K. Williams convinced Aaron Paul to join Twitter. (Also featured in the “Ciroc Ratpack” campaign: Frank Vincent, Diddy, and… Chad Michael Murray? Who invited that clown?)

In case you’re new to learning actors’ names and need the significance of this spelled out for you: Omar Little — the most memorable character from the best show ever made (“I robs drug dealers”) — was hanging out in Vegas with Jesse Pinkman, a meth cook/dealer on what may be the best show on television right now. Now THAT is a party I want to be a part of. You can’t tell me that jackass Chad Michael Murray deserves that spot over me. No one with three first names should be in an homage to the Rat Pack. “Chad Michael Murray” sounds like a serial killer in Nebraska.

Whoa, get ready for a “Saturday Night Live” scandal: former cast member Darrell Hammond is coming out with a tell-all memoir in which he reveals his rampant use of booze, cocaine, and crack during his 14-year tenure on the show. What an outrage! I’m going to put asterisks on all those laughs I got.

“I kept a pint of Remy in my desk at work,” Hammond recalls in God, If You’re Not Up There, I’m F*cked, out Nov. 8 from HarperCollins. “The drinking calmed my nerves and quieted the disturbing images that sprang into my head … when drinking didn’t work, I cut myself.”

In 1998, cops took Hammond from the NBC infirmary to New York Hospital in a straitjacket. “My wife came but I didn’t recognize her,” he writes. In 2002, Hammond recalls, “I’d started adding an obscene amount of cocaine to my binges … I had to be creative about how I did it without other people catching on or letting it interfere with the work. At least too much.”

In 2009, during his 14th “SNL” season, and having gone to rehab once, Hammond relapsed. “I had the brilliant idea I should try crack,” he writes — and he spent time in a Harlem crack house. [NY Post]

I just can’t believe that a bunch of comedians working late at night on the weekends in New York City would allow this kind of behavior. This will probably tarnish the show’s reputation forever.

This video made my day. Ronnie Ortiz-Magro, best known as the beefiest Guido on the “Jersey Shore,” enters the confessional room with Nutella on his face and the nose of a Pinocchio doll in his mouth, and begins slurring through a monologue before falling silent mid-sentence.

I don’t know what else to say about this except to call it art. Sure, it’s just a drunk idiot trying to figure out what he’d done that night, something that I and countless other drunks do on a regular basis. But the fact that this was captured on camera and beamed out into the world for everyone to watch makes it fascinating to me. It makes me want to search for meaning where there is none. “Pinocchio’s nose in his mouth is clearly a metaphor for the lies we tell ourselves, while the Nutella blackface serves as a commentary on Italy’s troubled race relations stemming from its proximity to northern Africa.” Man, this is easy. I should have taken more art history classes.

[Remote Control]

As you surely know, Sunday night marked the beginning of Discovery’s annual Shark Week, and what better way to celebrate a ratings-grabbing TV event than by drinking yourself blind? This Shark Week drinking game is sure to get you loaded on rule #3 alone — the clip we posted yesterday was two straight minutes of Australian accent. But if I had my way, I’d add one more rule: take a drink every time they display the scars or amputation nub of a shark attack survivor. (For the handful of readers out there who don’t drink, I’ve included a Shark Week corgi below to brighten your day.)

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There’s an absence of interesting TV news today, and I absolutely refuse to write about the Comic-Con schedule (OMG! “Doctor Who” is in Hall H! *fart noise*), so instead I’m sharing the “Law & Order: SVU” drinking game that’s currently burning up Tumblr. It’s an excellent drinking game in that it’s simple and straightforward, but my preliminary math shows that it will only produce a gentle buzz, and not the roaring blackout drunkenness that might inspire someone to smash up the Ed Sullivan Theater. I recommend tripling the dosage.