Drama struck after the Much Music Video Awards on Sunday night, when a mouthy Perez Hilton boiled hip hop band the Black Eyed Peas, and inevitably blue-purple-blackened his face.

The story goes that Hilton got into an argument with BEP band members, Fergie and Will.I.Am at Cobra nightclub in Toronto, early Monday morning, after Will told Hilton not to write about his band on his popular celebrity gossip blog (PerezHilton.com).

Envy? Pfft! This green monster has taken up social work! Meet Probo, the "intelligent huggable robot". Originating in Brussels, Probo has been designed to interact with children while they are hospitalized. Yeah, I know he's programmed to be very sweet. But personally, I find him a little creepy -- like a cross between Alf and Shrek. But then again, if kids can love a talking magenta dinosaur, a big red dog, and a nerdy aardvark with glasses (thanks PBS!), who am I to scoff what just might work!

On the Vrije Universiteit Brussel homepage, the Probo is described in detail:

This spankin' new toy just begs you to exercise your creativity. Introducing Germany's hottest phone (in the making), Pilotfish's "Ondo". An innovative and high-concept flexible cell phone, featuring amazing music recording and editing functions. Say goodbye to annoying, crap-quality ring tone versions of 'Low' by Flo Rida, and hello to making your own personalized tracks and tones to blow people's minds!

Lee’s Palace was the place to be last Saturday night, if you like the rock n’ roll tribute band circuit. Take a second to turn on your (80’s rock n’ metal) receiver, and take in the idea of Monsters of Mock III, featuring a Motorhead, KISS, and Motley Crue tribute, performing consecutively, under one grungy roof. If I threw in mention of the Naughty Nurse Competition that was also taking place that night (with legendary Gene Simmons judging the contestants), you’d be sold and in tow.

Kudos to PickTheBrain.com for ending the procrastinative slump I'd fallen into -- and not a second too soon! I was starting to get pretty annoyed with the nasty task pileup that had accumulated on me, left untreated and worsening; something like a malignant wart. So bad, it was starting to get in the way of my leisure/hobby-type pursuits.

A quick history lesson: During the 1930's, Cabbagetown's working class was hit exceptionally hard by The Depression. The brunt of the impact was most discernible south of Gerrard St, which had transformed into Toronto's worst slum of the time. By the 40's, the decrepit region was targeted for a massive urban makeover and razed.

Once upon a time in Sampaloc, Manila, there lived a homeless 13 year old boy. Having just lost his mother and his home, his story was tragic, but not uncanny for the youth of his third-world nation. To be able to afford necessities, the boy had to drop out of school and work odd jobs like digging through garbage for recyclables. At nights, he slept on the cold, dangerous streets, and was often hungry.

All I'd need to do is mention his name, David Beckham, and already I can hear the growing swoon of men and women alike. Listen a little longer, and you'll probably hear the thud of a few bodies fainting away. I'm not surprised that he was voted People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive (2008). I mean, I don't particularely fancy soccer guys, but I gotta admit, at the right angles, he is quite the hot, fit, captivating, dreamy stud. Hormones aside, let's move on.

You'd think he'd be upset after having nearly 2000 collectibles and souvenirs evacuated from Neverland Ranch, but it turns out MJ doesn't mind. Because although the property may have new owners, and his money woes are still rampant, at least he gets to keep proprietorship of all his crazy things.

As of April 15th, at a second hearing on the matter, a previous contractual arrangement concerning Jackson's manager was found to not cover the necessary rights needed to sell off MJ's items as proposed, thus the auction's cancelation in MJ's favour.

Imagine the following: You are walking home alone and a stranger stops you, asking for directions. They unfold a map and as you lean in, they blow a powder off the map and into your face.

The next thing you remember, your head is swimming and you are struggling to reorient yourself, completely lost as to how much time has lapsed, how you got where you are, and what happened after the encounter with that stranger.

This is a vague but realistic victim's account of the notorious Colombian Devil's Breath, a.k.a scopolamine or the "Zombie Drug".