Gawker HQ is a sweltering nightmare, so in a couple hours, we're gonna try to beat the traffic to the Hamptons. No, seriously! I've got to get this S.U.V. on the L.I.E.! I'm gonna be so confused when we get to the Conscience Point Inn — I suppose I'll have to back over myself in my own SUV? Do I have to call myself white trash, or should I hire someone to do that? Could Lizzie Grubman IM me with some tips?

Anyway — we've finally become the kind of shitheels our mothers warned us about. The point: get your gossip in fast. We're getting the hell outta this stanky burg.

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