This image was lost some time after publication, but you can still view it here.

As you know, Gawker lives and lives well off a steady diet of your tips. We can't thank you enough really, but the sad truth is that a brief, anonymous, congratulatory, virtual nod is the only thanks our tipsters ever receive. We'd like to change that, in our small and fatuous way. So allow us to introduce the Media Mole Rodeo, a contest designed to reward the lowliest and least appreciated underlings in New York's media hive. Editorial assistants, executive secretaries, interns, mail carriers, on-call fluffers — this is your time. What we want: your personal stories and anecdotes from the bowels of NYC media, involving boldface names, managerial misconduct, sexual impropriety, abuse of personnel and resources — all the usual bedtime material. The coveted prize: drinks with a deputation of Gawker editors, plus Page Six's Paula Froelich. We'll pick up the tab for as long as we can all mutually stand each other's company, so consider the prize a sort of endurance bonus round. Details after the jump, plus a pump-priming appetizer.

We're looking for lurid first-hand accounts involving the New York media world. Blind items are fine, but obviously there had better be some juicy detail. Naming names is always preferred of course. And forget about generic hilarity that could occur in any office; the media hook is a required element, though it need only be the presence or involvement of someone who works in media. What editor has a legendary coke habit? Which authors sleep with their agent? Who got fired for sending anonymous tips to blogs? These need to be situations you experienced personally, not friend-of-a-friend or general office gossip-lore. Submissions will be completely anonymous, and we recommend you submit them anonymously. Stay safe, and send your New York media anecdotes to We'll run the best here, and eventually we'll pick a pair of winners for the free drinks — one chosen by readers, another picked by Gawker editors. And just to get you started, here's a small and innocuous example that came over the transom, featuring NBC exec and alleged dick Jeff Zucker:

I am not even a full time employee at NBC, but I had a Zucker story after 2 weeks on the job. Most of the elevators at 30 Rock have a weird system whereby you press your destination floor before you enter the elevator, and then it comes and gets you, and takes you to the floor. I was using the studio elevators, and was going to the 4th floor, I was about to press the button when Zucker, who I did not immediately recognize, said to me from in the elevator "if you are going anywhere below floor 8, get another elevator, I'm in a hurry." Apparently Zucker didn't have time to waste 15 seconds on a another floor. I pressed the 4th floor button anyway, and walked away to another elevator. I was thankful my ID was in my pocket.

As you can see, the worm's-eye view doesn't always catch the big picture, but it's a telling bit of personal microdrama. Zucker ascends alone. Now get cracking.