DEARS: Well, we FINALLY tricked Hubby Kip into FINALLY taking us on a vacation—and no, we're not telling you where we are, and no, we're not checking our email, and no, not even the Mercury can text us, and no, we don't feel bad about any of this even one... little... bit. While we're relaxing by throwing back even more martinis than usual, we've left One Day at a Time—and you—in the capable hands of a dear friend: Courtenay Hameister, one of Portland's finest essayists and a producer at Live Wire. See you next week, dears! MWAH!—Ann (Oh, and confidential to "CH." Don't screw this up, or there'll be hell to pay.)

You know when you wake up with a smile on your face and ants in your pants, ready to take on the day, and then you read the news and your entire worldview is shaken? That's what happened when I got up this morning only to discover that rapper 50 Cent had filed for bankruptcy. When I went to bed on Sunday, he was worth between $10-50 million. And now this? What gives, 50? (Can we call you 50? No? Cool.) Well, rest easy, folks: It turns out Mr. Cent is only filing for bankruptcy protection to avoid paying $5 million in punitive damages to Lastonia Leviston, the girlfriend of rapper Rick Ross. Sir Cents-a-Lot was trading barbs with Ross online and, y'know, just for giggles, posted a private sex tape of Leviston, calling her a "porn star." Oddly, she didn't see the humor in it. We should've seen this coming, really, when he wrote in "Fuck Dat Bitch": "If a bitch don't like me, something's wrong with the bitch, so I'll probably attempt to subjugate her with the passive violence of online slut-shaming." That was a good song.

Goddammit, Eric Stonestreet. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? No, I'm not really a Modern Family fan because kid actors make me itchy and it was never a good idea to base the success or failure of a show solely on the awe-inspiring, gravity-defying majesty of Sofia Vergara's boobs, but YOU WERE MY FAVORITE PART. And now I discover that you're dating Real Housewives of New York "star" Bethenny Frankel, so you've totally ruined a show that was previously only mostly ruined. See how I put "star" in quotes? That's because reality stars aren't stars, Eric. Their shows feature them driving and talking on cell phones and having pool parties and yelling at each other on Watch What Happens Live. Those aren't skills, those are activities. So, stop it. Also, (B), you're such a good actor that I thought you were actually gay, so I would've loved to see you with someone like country singer Ty Herndon or John Travolta. This is so disappointing on so many levels.

Today UK-based eBay seller "rockshopngavel" rocked the pop-star-grocery-list fan world by selling a series of Britney Spears' grocery lists for an embarrassing $59.99. The provenance of the lists wasn't immediately clear, but the seller seems legit, as his other items include a Nancy Wilson satin vest from the '80s, a Budweiser can signed by Tommy Lee, and a to-do list from Madonna that includes buying a "panty bustier," a "light maissere relamm" (indecipherable, sorry), and simply the word "alone." The inflated $449.99 price for Madonna's list makes sense, though, because it's a hell of a lot more revealing than Spears' lists, which expose almost nothing of interest, except that she eats a lot of cereal (Cinnamon Toast Crunch is the clear winner), spells grits with a "z," and weirdly puts the word "baby" in front of things ("baby pizzas," "baby ice cream drumsticks," and "baby lighters," which, WHAT THE HELL IS A BABY LIGHTER IS IT USED TO LIGHT BABIES BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE). Also, she thinks fat-free bacon exists, which it absolutely doesn't or it would be in my mouth hole right now. But thanks for making me hope and wish and dream for something that will never be, Britney, you fucking jerk.

In a rite of passage for many young drivers, Google announced that one of its 20 self-driving cars was involved in its first injury-causing accident. The car was rear-ended at a stoplight near Google's Mountain View, California headquarters. The three Google employees in the car suffered minor whiplash and the driver of the other car reported back and neck pain. It was later revealed that the car had been texting, eating McDonald's, and fighting with its girlfriend when it became distracted and stopped short. NOT REALLY YOU GUYS! In fact, in 11 of the 14 accidents involving self-driving cars, the accident was the fault of the other driver, who didn't brake, according to the car's on-board sensors. Chris Urmson, who heads up Google's self-driving car program, told ABC News that the cars "are being hit surprisingly often" by distracted drivers. "Should we be worried that cars appear to care more about human lives than humans do?" I tweeted at a stoplight on my way to Taco Time. I'll let you know what I hear back.

TAYLOR SWIFT IS "INSANELY HAPPY" WITH CALVIN HARRIS!! I'm so... that's so... this is a big day. Right? Because... Calvin Harris is... a guy people know. I think. Okay, according to the Googs, Calvin Harris is the Scottish DJ, producer, and singer behind Rihanna's "We Found Love" and then some absolutely terrible hits of his own that got over 500 million hits on YouTube. (Check out "Summer," featuring Harris walking awkwardly, some very cool dragsters, and, because it's a music video and it's required by law, a bunch of women in hoo-ha-torturing lingerie.) Evidently, Harris is bothered a bit by all the scrutiny their relationship brings, but still incredibly happy because "it's boxes I didn't even know existed, she ticks." According to the Daily Mail, those boxes include talents such as "baking to barbecuing to building up friendships with Hollywood's hottest It girls." So the larger story here is "Scottish Pop Star Calvin Harris Recently Realized That Baking, Barbecuing, and Creating Friendships Are Things That Exist in the World." That's a big story. If you know who Calvin Harris is. Which I totally do now.

You know that group of friends you had in high school who were constantly sniping at each other, gossiping, and mocking everyone in sight? Remember when they imploded because Kara accidentally revealed that Stephanie cheated on her boyfriend and it turned out Stephanie was supposed to be off-limits, gossip-wise, and so Kara tried to take it back but it was too late because it was already out there? Well, that just happened at Gawker. The gossip site posted a story about a Condé Nast executive who happened to be the brother of a former treasury secretary, claiming that the married father of three had solicited a male prostitute for $2,500 via text. It wasn't until the internet said, "Um. Why is a story about a private citizen's sex life any of our business?" that Gawker took the story down—18 hours later. The reversal caused a rift between members of Gawker's editorial staff, but caused the internet to breathe a giant sigh of relief. Because if gossip sites start writing stories that are essentially, "You Won't Believe the Weird Shit We Found on This Random Guy's Cell Phone," then we're all screwed. I think it was John Donne who said, "Do not ask for whom the iPhone makes that weird bubble sound. It makes that weird bubble sound for thee. Bitches."

Terrible news for Demi Moore this morning when it was revealed that a 21-year-old man had been found dead in her pool following a party thrown by Demi's caretaker Saturday night. Apparently, the man couldn't swim and had been left behind by the other partygoers. Which raises the question: What do you do when someone dies in your pool? Do you just drain it and then re-fill it and hope the new water isn't haunted? Or do you demolish the pool and build a new one in its place and hope that it won't be like the Poltergeist burial ground thing? Or do you just move? I'd just move. Y'know what? These probably aren't appropriate questions right now. Condolences to the family. But also let us know what's happening to the pool.