So yes, a few developments here at Gawker. Let's chat.

First of all, observe the new tarted-up design, rolled out today both here and on bro site Gizmodo. Having enjoyed a few years of cellulite-thin columns and pictures, we're ready to try width — wider text, wider images, and wider whitespaces for those of you with ad blockers or other nefarious browser tweaks that steal food right from our babies' mouths. Change the width of your browsing window, then thrill to a dynamically changing main column that will adapt to your needs, and yours alone. Of course, though perfect in the abstract, the new design still has a few kinks. Please let us know in the comments or via if you spot any bugs or other inappropriate behavior.

In addition to the software, the Gawker meatware has also gone through some changes. Full details after the jump.

After the recent night of long knives, Gawker editor Jessica Coen remains at her station, resolute and unbowed. She's joined by new editor Alex Balk, a frequent Gawker guest editor and justly well-regarded for his work at The Minor Fall, The Major Lift. Moving into the spare bedroom and the new position of managing editor is Chris Mohney, formerly of Gridskipper.

What does this mean for you, the defenseless reader? Quite simply, more of everything. Contrary to early intel, Gawker will not be refocusing entirely on celebrity excretions (not entirely, anyway) or any other single sphere. We'll still be covering Manhattan, media, news, and gossip, just like it says on the sidebar. In fact, we'll cover those realms in more ways than ever — more photos, videos, and other distractions from the tyranny of the written word. For those of you who still like nouns and verbs, the words themselves will remain, as blithely insipid as they've always been. But as we integrate into our new editorial-technical hive mind, expect new content, new features, new columns, and more. Always more.

So just lie back, relax, and let all the shiny newness wash over you. Enjoy the impish hijinx of this short transitional week, where nobody knows where anything is, what anything does, or who likes to be touched how. For now, remember: fuck-ups are fun! Roll with it, and you'll be returned to your regular diet of jaded, cynical anti-journalism soon enough.