After over two years and somewhere around 6000 items, I'm finally selling out. Don't get me wrong — I've been trying to sell out for ages, but no publisher seems interested in my haphazardly written roman clef about a silly girl who moves from LA to New York to write some crazy media gossip blog and eventually discovers herself while learning some really valuable life lessons.
So! These are my last two weeks at Gawker, and I'd rather not get reflective and emotional just yet (and seriously, why the hell am I so emotional?! I'm exhausted — move on, lady!), as I still have to get up at some ungodly hour and help you procrastinate for a little while longer. After I'm done here, I'll be heading over to Vanity Fair, where I'll be their deputy online editor. While it's actually quite hard to say goodbye to this job (crap, am I being sincere already?), I can't pass up the opportunity to do all sorts of inappropriate things to the Conde Nast salad bar when no one's looking.
As for my replacement: we've got no freaking clue. If you're interested in sacrificing your personal life and identity, changing your last name to Gawker (do any of you know my surname is actually Coen?), and joining the insolent cause, do email Gawker Media whipping boy Lockhart Steele at firstname.lastname@example.org — he's rabidly heterosexual and looking forward to your headshots.