You've already seen Britney Spears' cringe-inducing performance at last night's MTV VMAs. And when you're not replaying the YouTube clip and giggling each time she stumbles, you're weighing in on Kanye West's empty promise to never return to MTV.

So why would we bore you with more of our take on that? We wouldn't.

But after a raucous long weekend spent stealing SUVs from Carson Daly so we wouldn't have to wait in the cab queue in 100-degree heat, our tax guy told us we have to report something in order to snag that write off.

So let's get to the minutiae!

An uneventful JetBlue flight – where "uneventful" means "took off on time" – from New York dumped us in Las Vegas' sweltering heat just in time to begin the debauchery. While Herbal Essences welcomed Eve to the stage, we opted for Brody Jenner sightings at LAX inside the Luxor. Pete Wentz was spinning and Travis from Gym Class Heroes humped one of our friends.

Saturday kicked off with Lifebeat's event at the House of Blues, where Robin Thicke sweated through a few songs while jerking off the mic stand. Hayden Panettiere from Heroes swooned from the balcony. We didn't have time to wait around for Maroon 5 to take the stage. Also, it was a cash bar. So: ew.

From there, it was off to Maxim's event at the Mandalay Bay pool. We walked in as Adrien Grenier stumbled out with a bevy of models, which meant we were left to making Eric Connolly jokes on our own. Sad face. Besides the Michael Jackson impersonator, Maxim's best party feature was the misting wall. It was that or the pool to cool down, and as much as we wanted to join the beautiful people (read: paid twentysomething girls who don't tell their mothers back home in Kentucky how they pay the rent), even we're not that tacky. Usually.

So we split for the Hard Rock hotel and Rolling Stone's 40th anniversary bash, where the press agent handing out the wristbands told us that no, Jann Wenner was not inside. But also: The press agent thought Jann Wenner was a made-up fictional character. Which is funny, 'cause it's true.

Inside, the party wasn't much to speak of at first, which explained why everyone (um, us?) was desperate to pretend to go to the bathroom only to sneak underneath the ropes separating Rolling Stone's venue from Body English, where 50 Cent was throwing his album release. It was also where three fights broke out and a gun was pulled.

Too bad we never made it past the burly man with the earpiece, because shortly after our attempts at crashing failed, Kanye West took the stage to soak through his white blazer and introduce Jamie Foxx's ego. Actually, it was by far the best event of the weekend.

From there, it was off to the Palms, where Belvedere vodka rented out one of the top suites. The purpose? To give underfed models a chance to swim in the knee-deep pool on the balcony, austere young men a chance to pee in the shower (yes, for real), and everyone else a chance to sweat out their toxins — because it never got cooler than 90 in there. The event was supposed to go from 1am "until sunrise," but it wrapped up early. Probably because Robin Thicke wanted to hop in the rotating bed with his mic stand.

And then Sunday came, and with it some big awards show MTV asked us to come to.

The red carpet was filled with those Hills girls, a transsexual Paris Hilton (also known as actual Paris Hilton), and at least three media crews promising to "skip this shit next year."

Inside the press room/photo lounge, stringers from the tabloids awaited an entire four visits from talent: Rapper-actor Common, that stupid Miss Teen USA girl (whisked away before she could be asked questions to which words would be required to answer), The Hills cast, and someone else forgettable. One girl from TMZ became so disinterested she began shopping for colleges on her computer. (University of Colorado seems to be a top pick.) Rush & Molly's Sean "Lady's Man" Evans flirted with the girl from Entertainment Weekly. And us.

Stopping by the official MTV afterparty yielded Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Garner sightings, which makes sense, 'cause they were hosting things. Another run-in with Adrien Grenier, except this one amounted to us walking in behind him, then watching him immediately turn on his heel and split with some lady friends. And maybe a reality TV star. Mel B. roamed around with her husb. Shia LeBeouf ordered drinks in front of us, which ,if you read between the lines, meant he didn't have a cabana of his own. Poor thing.

The night ended back at the Belvedere suite, but only because we were promised Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson. And for once, a promise was kept. Pete held court in a roped off corner while a mood-enhanced Ashlee Simpson enjoyed his lap. By the time we found the pastry plate, it was time to call it a night.

And thus, a weekend.

Meanwhile, reading back through this in an attempt at editing, it's clear we skipped over maybe a handful of other events. But we had a lot of goat cheese and spinach pizza this weekend, so we're in a bit of a food coma. Also, we hit big on the roulette tables, and we have to update our Facebook profile with the good news.