It's always weird to be in New York for Spring's Fashion Week and find yourself at the center of the biggest collection of designers in the world. Especially because something about the models, runway shows and after-parties (and subsequent hangovers) just make you want to hide under your covers and avoid anything that requires an RSVP for the rest of your life. Here are five articles we would have run, if we weren't so busy trying to separate Lindsay and Sam Ronson from a nasty catfight.

The 10 Sexiest Meryl Streep Oscar Outfits

We figured everyone else was going to write about Kate Winslet's breasts as their pre-Oscar coverage, so we'd go to the exact opposite end of the spectrum. Our predictions for this year? Something low-cut, maybe showing a little ankle or collarbone, and a bonnet.

Holy Crap, We're Really Screwed

Bryant Park is well and good, but did anyone watch Frontline last week? Our economy (and the global one) is really, really fucked. It's actually worse than the Great Depression. This idea was eventually scrapped to make room for more coverage of Donna Karan's show.

Cakey-oke

I couldn't justify putting this video up in any capacity this week, but just try to imagine the mind of someone who spends their time making YouTube videos of puppet-cakes singing Karen Carpenter. That must be a really nice place to call brain-home. I sort of want to make a response video where a cake sings the Sonic Youth cover of "Superstar".

Monkey Business

Our new weekly comic series, presented by celebrity guest-blogger and political commenter Sean Delonas. Unfortunately, Delonas had some sort of monkey-wrench thrown into his plans this week and couldn't make it. (We hear that the guys at The Post have Delonas' scrotal sac in a vise so hard that they're beginning to turn bright blue.) Instead, we decided to just hire a monkey to do Delonas' job for him, and this little guy only needs half the Xanax prescription Delonas did to stop foaming at the mouth and making homophobic/racist statements.

Our Ode to TMZ

Twas the night post-Grammy's, and in Harvey's house/
He felt something stirring, as small as a mouse./
"Is it mine conscience?" he cried as he took to the stairs/
to see if that beat-up photo of Rihanna was still there./
"I shouldn't post it, or maybe I should!"/
the fact of the matter was the money was too good./
He knew he'd get hits, and links by the score/
who cared if Chris Brown's career was no more?/
And battered women, well that was just fine too!/
It was the thought that he's stolen the pics that made Levin blue./
"I found them on the ground, I swear, it's no lie!"/
Too bad the LAPD wasn't checking his alibi.

Etc., etc.