Others may think they’re in the running, but really these are the only two women in the world competing for my affections. To prove that I say this without even the slightest hint of irony I direct you to: my open love letter to Paris; my abortive attempt to write a dissertation on a “discursive ontology of Paris Hilton”; my near-friend divorce over Rihanna with someone of appallingly poor aesthetic taste; a heroic rescue of Rihanna from the clutches of moral relativism. There are others still, but this selection should suffice.

Point is: my head is fucking exploding right now.