Hi, guys! So, this feels nuts, but today is my last one here at Vulture. Working at Vulture these past two years has been, for every minute that I didn’t have to think about Charlie Sheen, Mel Gibson, or Chris Brown, a joy and a pleasure. I am so hugely proud to be a part of Vulture and the amazing cultural ass-kicking it does every day, and most especially to be a part of the dedicated, delightful, hilarious team that makes it possible. I would like to thank with the biggest thanks in the entire world — really, in the entire world — Josh Wolk, Ben Williams, Kyle Buchanan, Amanda Dobbins, Margaret Lyons, Eliot Glazer, Patti Greco, Joe Adalian, Claude Brodesser-Akner, Alicia Kennedy, Sarah Frank, Jed Egan, Mary-Louise Price, Adriana Nova, Eve Taylor, Adam Pasick, Kaitlin Jessing-Butz, Jillian Goodman, Amos Barshad, Lane Brown, all other past Vultures, the dozens of other people who work so hard and so well making this site so damn good, and, of course, you guys, our fierce, opinionated, excellent-taste-having readers. Starting next week, I’ll be taking over as the TV critic at Salon, where I hope some of you will read me and the rest will continue to delight in heckling me (Bananarama, yes, I am talking specifically to you. Don’t let me down!). To drag out this signing off — because, really, it makes me so sad to be done! — I would like to regale you with some of the silliest things that this astounding and awesome job has let me go on and on and on about, including, but not limited to Babyoncé, pantless pop stars, Avril Lavigne’s “What the Hell” (still a jam!), the Jersey Shore, Katy Perry’s ejaculating boobs, chest hair on Gossip Girl, and, of course, Gwyneth Paltrow’s virtuoso rendition of “Eff You.” For real, you guys, it has been a pleasure.