Thanks for telling me Pam is pregnant. Dick.

Don't worry–I'm not going to spoil the endings to everyone's favorite shows, even though Reality Blurred founder and personal friend Andy Dehnart says these aren't really spoilers:

Those are not spoilers, because a spoiler ruins something that has not yet been broadcast; it’s like calling the outcome of the presidential election or the ending to The Sixth Sense spoilers; if you don’t already know, the world cannot bend over backwards to protect you from your pop culture procrastination.

To Andy and other critics I say, Some of us work late on Thursdays. Some of us don't feel like turning on the boob tube as soon as we get home. Some of us would like to watch the season finales of our favorite shows at our leisure, just one day later, without knowing how they end. Write about them all you want. But I'm not going to read your shit until I'm good and ready.

But to those of you who twittered season finales or made them your Facebook status updates, thereby violating the safe spaces that were Facebook and Twitter, know this: There is a special place in Hell just for people who do what all of you have done, and it will feature really uncomfortable folding chairs and Leslie Neilson's Mr. Magoo on loop for all of eternity.

(Seriously. I expected to FF through it underwhelmed, a la the common man's trophyfest, the People's Choice Awards. But I was enraptured, unable to skip a single "thank you" or moment of the brilliant Mingle Cam.)

But it's probably just because the Hollywood Foreign Press has terrible taste.

Not all the time, of course. There were plenty of deserving (or at least herd-approved) noms and wins: Slumdog Millionaire took all four categories for which it was nominated (best picture drama, best director, best screenplay, and best original score). I was thrilled that Mickey Rourke, looking totally gangsta, won Best Actor for The Wrestler, and although I was generally zipping through the television categories, I had to stop to watch the love for 30 Rock, my only must-see show that I can admit to adoring without shame. (As opposed to Rock of Love, whose every incarnation I got sucked into. There, I said it.)

But Burn After Reading and Mamma Mia! for best comedies? Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson for their (literally) walk-in-the-park performances in feel-good romance Last Chance Harvey? I wasn't blown away by Sally Hawkins' Globe-winning turn in Happy-Go-Lucky, but I'm glad she won the category, because between her, Thompson, Meryl Streep (Mamma Mia!), Frances McDormand (Burn After Reading), and Rebecca Hall (Vicky Cristina Barcelona), Hawkins was the only actress who actually had to break a sweat.

That said, here are some of the show's highlights:

1.) Sting, presenting Best Song but looking like he should be slaying vampires with a dark beard and goth-y black coat;

2.) Bruce Springsteen's win for his contribution to The Wrestler, because I'm just as happy to hear him talk as sing;

3.) Andrew Stanton, who said that his wife and kids "inspire every emotion I try to capture onscreen" in his acceptance speech for the lovely WALL*E;

4.) Colin Farrell, who was funny when he blamed his sniffing on a cold and "not the other thing it used to be" while presenting an award and touching when he talked about love while accepting one for In Bruges;

5.) Renee Zellweger's crazy-person dress, which narrowly beat Maggie Gyllenhaal's fashion disaster;

6.) Rourke giving a loving shout-out to his pets, because "sometimes when a man's alone, all you got is your dog;"

7.) Darren Aronofsky, so seemingly mild-mannered, caught on camera giving Rourke the finger;

8.) Tracy Morgan announcing that "I am the face of post-racial America. Deal with it, Cate Blanchett!"

and, perhaps my favorite,

9.) Tina Fey telling her Internet haters to "suck it":