page sixteen: vma recap

selena gomez still works the shit out of dresses. britney is worshipped. gaga brilliantly plays drag king. beyonce suggestively rubs her baby-bump while jay-z glows. adele is profound. lil wayne wears tight pants. nicki minaj dresses like a harajuku druggie. katy perry attempts to have multiple wardrobe changes. justin bieber can't keep his lips to himself. tyler the creator introduces the modern counterculture. kanye west is sober. jessie j is the best house singer i've seen. wiz khalifa makes out a lot with amber rose. katie holmes comes back from the dead. russell brand anxiously eulogizes amy while bruno mars rocks out in memory. demi lovato looks beautiful. colton haynes is sex. pitbull and usher prove that what happens in vegas, can be performed on any stage. more than anything, this was the vmas that made me realize my generation has begun to dominate. the youthquake has indeed erupted.