So the Grammy Awards were last night. I took minute-by-minute notes as show progressed so that those of you who didn’t catch it could enjoy the full Grammys experience. Oh, and I put up a shot of Jennifer Aniston topless, just because.

7:58 p.m. — Two minutes ’till showtime. Two bottles of liquor, a microwave burrito, and half a pack of cigarettes just within reach for maximum viewing pleasure.

8:00 p.m. — The show opens with Sting and The Police performing their hit song “Roxanne.” I play that fun drinking game where one of you drinks whenever Sting sings “Put on the red light” and the other person drinks whenever he sings “Roxanne.” But there was just me, so I had a lot of drinking to do. Still fun.

8:05 p.m. — One bottle of Jager, one burrito, eight smokes left.

8:30 p.m. — The phone rings. An ex-boyfriend wants to “come over and talk.” Probably without his pants. I say no, I’m doing important work right now. He argues. During this phone call somebody won something, possibly the Dixie Chicks, who won approximately 7,426 Grammys last night.

8:45 p.m — Justin Timberlake looks gay while singing one of his lame-ass songs. I mean really gay. I feed the burrito to the dog because I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.

9:12 p.m. — Mary J. Blige wins “Best R & B Song.”

9:30 p.m. — Something weird is in my belly button. It has a smell. I do a couple of shots of Jager.

10:15 p.m. — Somebody else wins something, but the dog has diarrhea courtesy of the beef burrito, so I’m too busy cleaning it up to notice.

10:28 p.m. — I balance my cigarette on the arm of the couch to better inspect my belly button.

10:31 p.m. — Carrie Underwood wins “Best New Artist” and the Dixie Chicks win something else, probably “Most Useless Who-Gives-a-Shit Band.”

10:37 p.m. — I notice the couch is smoldering.

10:38 p.m. — Note to self: Jager does NOT put out a fire.

10:40 p.m.– The smoke alarm goes off.

10:48 p.m. — The dog has more diarrhea. Justin Timberlake wins “Best Dance Recording.” The two are not related. Or are they?

10:52 p.m. — I throw up.

11: 12 p.m. — I throw up again.

3:47 a.m. — I wake up. It seems that the Grammys are over. The couch is completely charred on one side, there’s puke in my hair, and the whole room smells like ass. Dog ass. I wish I still had my burrito.

And there you have it. It’s like you were there, wasn’t it? For the complete list of the night’s winners, click here.

All of the fug after the jump

Jennifer Aniston has nipples. And they’re nice.

Christina Aguilera has that Chernobyl glow.

Beyonce’s belt needs a Confederate flag for authenticity. Also, she forgot the cowboy hat.

Nelly Furtado is just an idiot.

Rihanna does her best Toni Braxton, with decidedly unsexy results.

Hilary Duff looks like an uglier version of Nelly Furtado.

Mandy Moore proves you can turn a muumuu into red carpet attire with a simple leather belt.