You know it's a good week when real vampires get pissed off at fake vampires... or is it real fake vampires getting pissed at fake fake vampires?
Highs:
We found our new favorite man-boy band.
Our token Canadian helped us celebrate President's Day.
So did Scanner Colleen.
We laughed so hard at Sir Mix-a-Lot's Photoshop we almost peed our pants (okay, maybe we did a little).
We were validated, yet again, in our Crazy Cat Ladydom.
We also feel a lot better about that nervous breakdown we had at the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
We totally crushed on Playboy's newest play boy.
We looked at Kate Moss semi-naked and got a little jeal-jeal of her cute little tats.
We went shopping.
We discussed our girl parts, twice.
We fell in love with LOVE.
We need you to put a baby in us. Right now.
Lows:
Now we know how we do not want to die.
Looks like somebody's putting Johnny in a corner.
We found another beard we simply cannot endorse.
We recalled, for the umpteenth time, how we lost our virginity.
We learned that we are not unique.
Apparently, we cannot earn Weight Watchers activity points for sex.
We learned that fake fake vampires are pissing off real fake vampires.
We bid a fond farewell to Con-nan O'Briaaaaaahhhn.
And a bittersweet farewell to a crazy-ass chimp.
We don't want to be Obama's elf.
Barbie got even skinnier.
But this might be worse than all that.