Memorial Day weekend's typically the first opportunity of the summer for New Yorkers of all stripes-shit, anyone, of any stripe-to reasonably make a good faith effort to book it out of dodge. I did! And yet, here we are. Gabriel told me to run a short shift, and I essentially told him, fuck that, man, no trip home to see the family and relax is complete without nine hours of SLOW NEWS WEEKEND ANXIETY, and you torch-wielding, Parliament chain-smoking, muumuu-wearing alcoholic bi-polar maniacs need something to hold you over while you avoid the sun (Related: Gawker overlord Nick Denton just "bought" a "vampire blog").
So here we are: my third weekend on the job, and this go around, we'll be bringing you extra-special coverage of all things hedonistic in lieu of our excursion home in addition to the usual skeeze. Sex! Drugs! Rock and Roll! Addictions! An unsupervised PST-oriented blogger going wild on the Gawker expense account!
Last week, T.A.N. brought ruckus with Susan Orlean's Hot 97-esque trip in the studio to cook up some Remnick-grade beef. Who's hotter and more scandalous-er for a weekend in Vegas besides Susan Orlean? Well, he got that person.
And on that note: Gawker Weekend Management has also heard your complaints regarding the lack of ladyparts up in this hizzy. We rounded up some Better Halves to get in here and talk some shit (coming tomorrow). What now?
So: buy some chips, gird your loins, avoid the free drinks, wear a watch, and hang tight. We'll be here all week(end).