CHAUNCE HAYDEN: What separates the New York Post's Page Six from the New York Daily News' Rush and Molloy?
SHALLON LESTER: We just write better. We're really clever. I think it comes down to really good writing...
I really wanted to work for a newspaper and I love the Daily News and the Rush and Molloy column. It's not like [New York Post's] Page Six where we're out to smear people and ruin people's lives. They have a definite tone that is different from ours. Page Six has a much more biting, undercutting tone. I hope our column doesn't come across that way.

No, never!

CH: Ever get offered a bribe to give someone good press?
SL: Sure. But my neckless [SIC] does not say revenge for nothing. If people want to f-k with me they're in for a long hard road. I don't respond well to threats or bribery. A lot of journalists do it and you can totally tell when it's happened just by reading the article. Personally, I never take anything in exchange for a story. I hate being indebted to someone, plus we have a very strict policy about that. I've seen a lot of people take, take, take. They're in this job just because they like to get free shit. But they can't write their way out of a paper bag. I see it a lot.

Also she talks about how she was once a virgin and now all her ex-boyfriends are rock stars and athletes and how Perez Hilton is a "gangster" and how she has a reality show coming out on VH1 so that should be interesting one way or another.

Today, Steppin' Out has a circulation of around 85,000 and is distributed throughout New Jersey and New York City by a team of 30 drivers. Hayden is the editor, but, more important, also serves as the magazine's de facto publicist: Since no one actually reads it, it's up to him to feed the best material to the various gossip outlets around town, most of which are desperate to fill column space each day.

This is how "gossip" works! Armies of professional tipsters (literally professional, in many cases—some Ron Burkle-owned magazines are known to have piles of cash on hand for these tipsters) who sometimes feed you great stuff and sometimes utter bullshit.

So Chaunce seeks status and publicity for himself, netting himself closer access to the famous and semi-famous who he then sells out to Page Six until one of them then turns on him and Page Six is forced to burn him, the end.

"It's actually not that difficult to get people to appear in the magazine," he says. "I just promise them the cover. Of course, no one has ever seen the damn thing, but publicists have usually heard of it, which is good enough. Everyone's a fame whore in this town."

True! When we first began receiving emails from "Chaunce Hayden" on behalf of Steppin' Out they confused and upset us, but now, sadly, we understand the whole game. And we've still never seen a physical copy of this magazine.

Chaunce's full statement:

Statement from Chaunce Hayden: Neither myself or any other employee of Steppin' Out magazine, published anything at anytime to suggest that [Opie's fiancee] Ms. Smigo was involved in a sex tape. In fact, I went as far as to print that Ms. Smigo was not involved in a sex tape despite what Page Six of the New York Post suggested. When contacted by Bill Hoffmann of the New York Post, prior to their story about a sex tape involving Ms. Smigo and Bam Margera, I was asked if I thought the story was indeed true. I told Mr. Hoffman that I never saw a tape and that this is a rumor that has been on the internet for two years and that a former employee of the Opie and Anthony Show is claiming the story to be true. I told Mr. Hoffman that I was waiting for an answer from either Mr. Hughes or Mr. Margera to confirm or deny the story and I would wait until I saw a tape before filing my story. The next day Page Six published the item, despite my denial of a sex tape. In fact, I personally advised Mr. Hoffmann not to print anything until he saw the tape. Mr. Hoffman asked for 48 hours to "work" the story after I suggested he hold off until he saw the tape as well.

Yea Chaunce, you should probably get a lawyer, though. And here's a transcript sent by Hayden, in which he helpfully inserted the name of the real culprit in all this:

Transcript: Opie commenting on his XM radio show about the alleged sex tape between Bam Margera and his fiancée Lynsi Smigo. Opie confirms how long the story has been public and where the story originated: This is a false rumor. It's a lie that was started a year and a half ago by someone and we all know his name (Ben). Fucking Chaunce was the one who fed this story to Page Six and made them believe that this story could be possibly true. This guy [Ben] is a complete asshole. I'm now up to 20 names of people I know that (Ben) told this rumor to behind my back. He's been trying to get this rumor out there and trying to get as many to believe this. He got message boards to believe it. He's got people saying, "Let's try to find the fucking tape!" This whole thing started one and a half years ago! Everyone knows who started this. I'm not allowed to say his name on the radio right now. He would text me non-stop around the clock. I wouldn't budge. I finally wrote back, "Wow you are damaged. You need help." Then he wrote back, "Lynsi...Sex tape. Do I have your attention now?" I thought who is ever going to believe it. Now this motherfucker [Chaunce] gets Page Six to believe this and now I'm in hell.

Page Six does the nasty:

The story spreads:

It's not true!:

Also, lies are hurtful:

[via The Smoking Gun]

May 2003. This, according to Jack Shafer, is when Keith Olbermann instigated the NBC/Fox War. In a throwaway wisecrack at the close of his show, Olbermann compared Fox Blowhard Mascot Bill O'Reilly to Joe McCarthy. By 2006, the two hosts were fighting with each other almost nightly.

January 2006 Bill devotes his nightly comment to attacking NBC itself—and not Olbermann by name. "But 'Talking Points' is troubled by the behavior of NBC, which cheap shots FOX News on a regular basis and has been doing so for some time." He then takes it to the next level by going over Keith's head and pinning the blame on NBC President Robert Wright! (Keith responded by declaring O'Reilly his Worst Person in the World.)

October 2006 Fox's NBC war was expanding beyond Olbermann and O'Reilly. Fox gossip Roger Friedman turned a benefit report into an odd swipe at NBC's ratings, blaming Wright for the failure of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.

January 2007 The O'Reilly Factor presented a fair and balanced report on The Decline of NBC News. "As we reported NBC News has taken a sharp turn to the left under executive Jeff Zucker and Robert Wright with elements at NBC News now actually using propaganda from far left web sites as primary source material. Unbelievable." He went on to gleefully report on the supposed misdoings of Maria Bartiromo, bringing in a financial analyst willing to publicly trash CNBC.

April 2007 As the odious Michelle Malkin hosted his program, O'Reilly appeared via satellite to blame the Don Imus affair on Jeff Zucker. Meanwhile, Fox business correspondent Terry Keenan gleefully reported that NBC's parent company GE wanted to unload the network.

January 2008 The war heats up! O'Reilly does one of his patented ambushes of General Electric head Jeffrey Immelt! Supposedly because of some deal with Iran, but mainly because GE owns NBC and NBC employs Keith Olbermann and Keith Olbermann makes fun of Bill O'Reilly.

And so the feud widened. From Bill versus Keith to Fox versus NBC to News Corp versus General Electric. It went as high as Immelt and Rupert Murdoch! Fox News head Roger Ailes called NBC head Jeff Zucker personally to complain about Olbermann and threaten to take the battle to the New York Post. Murdoch called Zucker to ask that the network not play a video of a blogger harassing O'Reilly.

Page Six, the Post's gossip arm, constantly runs embarrassing stories about Olbermann. Which often leads to Olbermann naming some News Corp or Post-related figure his Worst Person in the World. And then the cycle begins anew! Over and over again!

Post columnist Andrea Peyser overhears Keith bitching about Connie Chung, Keith calls Peyser the worst person in the world, a few months later, Page Six reports that Olbermann is bad in bed! Then column editor Richard Johnson gets the first of his Worst Person in the World awards. (The second would come when he threatened to rape Vanessa Grigoriadis.) It's fun!

But the involvement of Murdoch? The harassment of Immelt? As GE decides whether it wants to keep its toes in the broadcasting business, this ego-driven bullshit might help convince them it's not worth it. Bill might win this one, sort of!

As in most things Murdochian, Rupert doesn't dirty his hands. While it's fun to pretend to see his fingerprints on each Olbermann smear in Page Six, the truth is Johnson and Post head Col Allen do indeed call the shots. They just know which shots they're supposed to call. Just like Roger Ailes at Fox, all the way down to Bill.

Would that GE and NBC/Universal had a message machine so in tune? They've got the cable blowhards warring with the broadcast newsmen and it all ends up publicized by one News Corp outlet or another.

The real winners, as always: us!

We came close once. Richard was on vacation and Wilson typed up what we thought was surely a family-friendly way of explaining the Santorum gag to unplugged newspaper readers. At about 7:00 p.m., we were all set to leave, when Post executive editor Steve Cuozzo—the Old Timiest of the Old Timey newsmen—came tearing out of his office, yowling, "Frothy discharge? Frothy discharge!?" Long story short: item killed.

What else do I miss about the Post? This lady right here. ::Sigh::

.

Turns out the piece was passed on by the Press to Page Six's Richard Johnson, who "was eager to do an item," Press editor David Blum told us. Aww, offering publicity to a struggling alt-weekly, how nice! As if. The story was bumped up to a news feature by the Post and then turned into a scoop on page three. "We're sorry they couldn't wait one more day and make it a Wall Street Journal page one exclusive," Blum told us.

As we were heading in to the Met, Mel Brooks was fleeing. He looks Jewier in person. Regis Philbin was heading to the Regency. His wife held a Museum Towers umbrella against the chill rain and said to her friend while she peered at a black Lincoln Town Car, "If the driver had any brains at all, he'd give us a sign."

Lauren Bush, the current President's niece, climbed the steps. She kissed the cheek of the gray-haired David Rubenstein, founder of the Carlisle Group and a "family friend." A middle-aged Hispanic woman pleaded with the guards to let her inside. Her father and her daughter had gone missing earlier that day: "Sorry ma'am, there's no one in here."

The stairway leading up to the second floor Medieval Art galleries was lined with tea candles that spelled out FOX. In the Sackler wing, the Riefenstahlian touches continued. Giant topiary letters spelled Fox Business. The temple of Dendur was lit blue and yellow. Social free-thinkers Celerie Kemble and her husband Ravenel Boykin Curry IV were there. "We're here for the Counting Crows," said Celerie. "I was supposed to have my birthday party tonight at the Wollman Rink but it got rained out. Eh, global warming!" "

I told her not to be so loud. She wouldn't make it to see the Counting Crows if Roger Ailes heard her.

The president of the Tiffany Foundation, Fernanda M. Kellogg, sat with her husband (and senior vice president at Stribling), Kirk Henckels. "I'm a lifelong left, born and raised," said Henckels, quietly enough. He had a bowtie. She had a humongous diamond necklace. Why are you here? I asked her. "Fox Business is a gem."

Lauren Bush was talking with Vanessa Trump. Lauren was wearing a keffiyah around her slender and sylph-like neck. Was it in solidarity with the Palestinian people or if it was in solidarity with Steve McQueen? She was there for the Counting Crows and Fox Business. Was she single? New York mag's Chris Rovzar, who is a huge huge huge Counting Crows fan, reminded me that she wasn't. She's dating David Lauren, the Ralph Lauren child, which means she'd be Lauren Lauren if they get married unless David chose to heed his father's Ashkenazi heritage and changed his name back to David Lifschitz.

Why had Rupert Murdoch picked Adam Duritz for the night's entertainment? Does he like the Counting Crows? The director of PR for Fox Business Network, Jocelyn Austin, seemed panicked that I might ask. She grabbed my arm and led me to the bar. "Let's get a drink," she said tautly.

"Uh, there's no bartender at the bar," I said. "Ha," she said, "I'll make you a drink. Let's not bother Rupert."

But we were standing next to Rupert. There was a little circle of people around him. Socialite Fabiola Beracasa was nearest.

Fabiola was wearing a silver dress. "I don't know whether to punch you or to kiss you," she said. Her boyfriend stood next to her. I thought if she kissed me, I'd get punched by him but if she punched me, he might kiss me instead, right? Adam Duritz began to sing the first unbearably crap lines of Long December. Was that Lauren Bush singing along softly? I tapped Rupert's shoulder.

He's shorter than I'd expect. He's also very powerful. I thought the best approach was informal. I gave him a pound. (Kidding.) Instead he enveloped my hand in his own soft hands and shook up and down. He feels like a cashmere doll. He had never heard of the Counting Crows. But he thought they were okay.

Jack and Suzy Welch were talking to Roger Ailes and cosmetics queen and Republican super-cougar Georgette Mosbacher. There was Page Six's Richard Johnson. He was scowling for a photograph. According to Nikola, his wife said, "Richard, you look like an angry shithead." Richard smiled. He said he didn't want to talk about what he had written about Vanessa Grigoriadis; the whole how he'd rape her but she was ugly thing.

"I have nothing to gain by this conversation," he said. "Let's let it lie."

[Update: Now we're hearing that it might have been Braden Keil's wife Jennifer Gould Keil not Richard's wife who called him a shithead, which might be even better.]

Judging from his almost jockey-like weight, working out a lot. He's also "got a column on Portfolio.com and I've been writing a lot for New York magazine. Oh, and I'm trying to build a company." Oh???

Speaking of company, he and Page Six honcho Richard Johnson were unusually chummy. Funny, given that we've heard that Johnson had fired off some very scathing emails to Grove in response to his New York mag takedown of Page Six boss Col Allan just back in September.

Grove said: "Look, there are few people who really understand or do what Richard and I do. There's a camaraderie there. We're friends."

Borrowing Up [Page Six]

There are not one but two items on Radar today about Johnson, one about the Grig slur and another pointing to Johnson's seeming favor-trading with Joe Francis, who he may have witnessed getting up to his rapey old tricks at Johnson's bachelor party.

Days before Johnson's April 8, 2006, nuptials to Sessa von Richthofen, Johnson and crew were crashed out in the living room of Francis's $25 million, 13-bedroom estate in Punta Mita, Mexico, nursing hangovers when the porn auteur came home and disappeared into a bedroom with a young woman. Eyewitnesses say later that morning the young woman burst out of Francis's boudoir, groggy, crying, and yelling, "That motherfucker raped me!" She staggered off saying her boyfriend in Oklahoma was a lawyer who would "sue the fuck out of" Francis.

Johnson and fellow revelers were left dumbstruck. But Francis—who has been accused of procuring underage prostitutes, promoting sexual performances from children, drug trafficking, racketeering, and rape—was quick to calm their nerves. "Guys, relax," he told Johnson and others, according to witnesses. "We're in Mexico."

Previously: Dispatch From The Gossip Wars

MAHMOUD'S NOT ON HIS MENU [Page Six]
Iranian Americans applaud the freedom, not the speech [AMNY]

Page Six honcho Richard Johnson, who resides in Hampton Bays, was among the first to arrive. He looked like he had just walked out of a screening of "The Sorrow and the Pity." "That was the longest beheading scene ever!" he said. Johnson was accompanied by his hobbledehoy son and a svelte blond nanny who wasn't much older but was suspiciously beautiful. Richard sat in the backyard garden, which is kind of like the kiddie table at the seder.

A table of beautiful Argentinean models sat at table 17. Among them was Delfina Blaquier, the wife of star polo player Ignacio "Nacho" Figuera, the polo player. They hadn't seen the movie either. But we all agreed to say that it was "action-packed."

D.Scho was chatting with Sandra Ripert, the saucy wife of Le Bernardin's Eric Ripert. "Oh my God, he was calling me during the whole movie!" Sandra said. "He's in Aspen being a judge for 'Top Chef!'" Talk turned to the breakup of "Top Chef" hostess Padma Lakshmi and Salman Rushdie. "I knew the marriage was on the rocks," Sandra said. "We sat next to them during the Beard dinner. Padma was all like, 'What party are we going to hit up next?' and Salman said, 'We're not going to any parties. It's late!'"

Inside, Rick and Kathy Hilton had some salmon. And then we saw Julia Allison approach the table. But as the blur of cleavage and brown hair got closer, we realized it wasn't her at all, but instead her somewhat classier and more successful doppleganger, ABC News correspondent Gigi Stone. She was trying to work up the nerve to say something to Zucker. He was chatting with some old people a few tables away. "I know we have a special connection," she said. "But he is the boss of my rival station." They don't call them stations anymore though. Her breasts were large and overwhelming and pushed up. They would have been at Zucker's eye level.

It's actually housed in Cafe Bari, in the upstairs part of the resto. The place turns into a nightclub a few nights/week. We were clued into the fact that it was the right place because there's graffiti in the back hallway with a big "Upstairs" graff. Then you go in the back door to the restaurant. Who we assume was [promoter] Danny A. was sitting there with some important looking people, looking/acting really pissed, reading the Post, looking at papers, on their blackberries. A couple of times he yelled at the waiters - we're assuming because that's where they think the leak came from.

Which is where Page Six, and that affidavit that Jared Paul Stern's lawyer sent to the paper on May 11, come in:

Politicians such as Hillary Clinton and others in a position to grant Murdoch and News Corp. valuable concessions and favors were ... fellated in print," the affidavit reads in part. And, later: "Page Six was ordered to kill unflattering stories about Hillary and Bill Clinton on numerous occasions."

In an interview with the Observer, Stern recalled that when Edward Klein's tell-all about Hillary was about to be published, the paper substantially changed an item about the book from one that relished in the salacious details (lesbian allegations, etc.) of the book to one that completely slammed it:

"So, basically, what we ended up doing is reconfiguring the story and working with Hillary Clinton's people on this, and the story we ended up printing was that Ed Klein had done a sloppy hatchet job," Mr. Stern said.

"[Bill] Clinton definitely was out and about, and it didn't get reported in Page Six," said former Page Six reporter Fernando Gil of the column's treatment of the Clintons in the years following Mrs. Clinton's successful Senate campaign. "You can probably draw your own conclusions."

Did Page Six Kill Numerous Items on the Clintons? [NYO]

Great Eights Get Coveted Awards [Cindy]
Rosie Grosses Out Media Elite [Page Six]
Women of Honor [WWD]

Earlier: What Will Richard Johnson Name His Offspring?

DOUBLE DOSE OF DWI DEALS [NYP]

Earlier: RJ's DUI: A Misdemeanor, a Violation, and a Cute Little Ford Escape

From today's Page Six:

REMEMBER the name Alice Eve. The young English actress is going to be a huge star after having lunch with Page Six at Michael's the other day. She has a movie out on Feb. 23, "Starter for 10," which will be screened tonight for such luminaries as Tom Hanks, Sam Mendes, Diane Sawyer and Drew Barrymore, with a dinner after at Odeon. Eve plays the love interest of two university boys on a competitive scholastic team. "It's great to be in a movie you can be proud of," she told us. She hopes to come to Broadway this year in Tom Stoppard's "Rock 'n' Roll," which she said has nothing to do with music and everything to do with communism.

[W]hen then-Governor Mario Cuomo inadvertently revealed that his wife was on a diet, "He begged us not to run it, and he promised us three great items in return," Johnson says. "And I know he did his best to make good on his promise."

The Face of Page Six [Avenue]

*The piece is so friendly that there's nary a mention of those inconvenient DUIs. Unless you have your own way with some of the quotes. Let's try:

It's very addictive," says Jay McInerney, who may be referring to alcohol.

Playboy readers loved Anna. We couldn't give them enough of her. She was Playmate of the Year, the pictorial for which was photographed by fashion photographer Daniela Federici. We featured her several more times in pictorials...on the beach, in bed, in the bathtub. Her sexuality and her spontaneity always revealed themselves to the camera. Her exploits since Playboy have been well publicized.

And now she is suddenly gone, like with Marilyn and Jayne Mansfield, taken too quickly. Perhaps Billy Joel should write a sequel to his song "Only the Good Die Young" simply changing the last word to "Beautiful." We'll miss you, Vickie.

In the Post Page Six Editor Richard Johnson (under the predictably classy headline, "SAD VICTIM WAS GOSSIP'S BREAST FRIEND," notes the following:

Growing up, she always said she wanted to be the next Marilyn Monroe. She was actually a tad more durable. Norma Jeane Baker was 36 when she overdosed. Vicki Lynn Hogan died at 39. They had a similar appeal with their aching vulnerability - bombshell blondes childishly unprepared to cope with an adult world, obviously in need of a daddy to take care of them. Marilyn found Joe DiMaggio, Arthur Miller and maybe a Kennedy or two. Anna Nicole found octogenarian billionaire J. Howard Marshall. It makes me glad Marilyn Monroe never had children.

What was it about Anna Nicole?

There have been hundreds of Playboy Playmates, but the wire services don't put out new stories every time one of them appears at an event. Countless beautiful young women have married rich old men, but you never hear about them on national TV. Reality show stars are a dime a dozen, but seldom make the cover of supermarket tabloids.

Perhaps it was that she was many things — and not quite anything. She was Forrest Gump, wandering from one spotlight to the next (the Playboy Mansion? Billionaire's ranch? The Supreme Court?). She was a national Rorschach blot, in which various constituencies — breast-loving men, money-loving hangers-on, the celebrity media — saw what they wanted. She was presented as a cartoon character, two-dimensional and not quite real.

She was also a mother who lost a son and leaves behind a 5-month-old daughter. That, too, echoes.

A Greek tragedy retold by Jacqueline Susann — or Dave Barry.

We'll miss you, Vickie [Playboy]
SAD VICTIM WAS GOSSIP'S BREAST FRIEND [NYP]
Anna Nicole. Why? [CNN]

Page Six The Magazine [NYP]

For starters, I'm almost certain the apocalypse is coming because Richard arrived before I did. Nevertheless, I continue on my mission: stalking debutards and one moderately wealthy media man who pretends to be more important than he really is so he can score a 25-year-old piece of twat. Twenty points or a 25-year-old piece of twat for anyone who can guess that not-so-blind item. Kate hands me a list of 24 people who are supposed to grace the hotel with their presence. Oh! Melissa Berkelhammer, possible contestant on America's Next Debutard? The only other name I recognize is Fabian Basabe. Yeah, it's time for a drink.

Sometime between the first drink and the second, the three of us notice it-boy-of-unknown-identity. A waitress, who looks like she would rather be at home repolishing her perfectly sculpted pedicure, says it's Fabian Basabe. I'm not so sure. I read Socialite Rank and occasionally glance at New York Social Diary for the pretty pictures of rich people in pretty outfits. Seriously, isn't that the only reason people "read" that site, and by read I mean occasionally glance at it for the pretty pictures of rich people in pretty outfits?

Somehow, Kate discovers the identity of It-boy-of-unknown-identity and scribbles it on the back of the folded press release. I glance at it, don't recognize the name, and shove the paper back into my bag. Later I discover it-boy-of-unknown-identity is Kamar De Los Reyes from One Life to Live. This is meaningless to me. The only soap I watch is Passions. Go ahead. Groan. My family and friends are ashamed too. I, however, am not. Meanwhile, Richard is capturing the excitement of women sitting on red couches near tables decorated with red candles near the red carpet floor. Clearly, this party is too hip for its own good. If you don't believe me, check out this counter-intuitive example: Jay McInerney as the most boring, unsexy porn orator on earth.

In typical Gawker fashion, I accost people who you pretend not to give a shit about, but kind of, but sort of have a natural, unhealthy obsession for because, well, you can't explain it and neither can I. First is Lloyd Grove, best known for his short-lived "Ask Lloyd Grove" column. I ask boring questions. Intriguing questions are for grossly overpaid New Yorker editors whose idea of hip involves a yacht and a bottle of San Pellegrino.

Me: Anything you'd like to say about Gawker?
Lloyd: I finally got paid. So I'd like to say thanks for the check, Nick.
Me: I'm so going to use that.
Lloyd: No, don't say that.
Me: Okay.

Don't edit that out, okay? Thanks! There was also Brooke "Belle in the Big City" Parkhurst, but I have a rule against making punch lines at easy targets. Next is Page Six's Richard Johnson.

Richard: Today, Gawker mentioned my wife Nadine. They called her Nadine "I Used to Fuck Richard" Johnson.
Me: Oh yeah! I read that.
Richard: Well it's true. I did used to...

That was salacious and awkward, kind of like those puberty manuals from high school health classes that discuss how your body is going through a series of changes and it's okay to touch yourself when mommy and daddy aren't around. Paula Froelich mentions having dinner with a sexually liberated, Oscar-nominated movie director. Candace Bushnell mentions being a prude. Jay McInerney mentions sex without reading glasses. Kate mentions it is time for us to leave.

On the way out, I notice Fabian Basabe chatting with Olivia Palermo. I'll skip introducing her as a socialite because I hate introducing people as socialites and because she was No. 24 on last week's power ranking. On a side note, I am getting tired of Tinsley hogging the top spot. And now, the million-dollar question.

Me: What do you think of Gawker?
Fabian: I've been impressed at times, but it needs to stay original.

Readers and debutards, please welcome the latest Gawker creation: "Stay Original" t-shirts. Available never at no store near you.

SPECIAL BONUS: A concerned member of the community was kind enough to pass along the below transcript of Paula Froelich's introductory remarks. No representation is made regarding the accuracy of said remarks or their literary/educational value. Void where prohibited.

I was trying to figure out how to open the festivities. At first I thought, how about doing my love life through the lyrics of 80s hair metal bands or country music songs. You know like David Allen Post 'Now I lay me down to sleep' or Journey's 'I'm going to keep loving you, it's the only thing I want to do, I won't sleep, I won't eat, I just want to keep loving you' that guy totally dump me, by the way, that asshole. Or Poison's 'Every Rose Has It's Thorn' I mean come on, so true. Seriously. Poison knew what they were talking about. I grew up in Ohio [inaudible].

So anyway, because of recent events in my love life, I thought I would start off with some anecdotes of, well, what else? Bad dating. Because let's be honest, that's what I do best. That, and not taking my own advice or heeding obvious warning signs. Such as, you know it's not going well when fourteen minutes into dinner, you ask your date, who's a well-known Wall Streeter—you all know him I just can't say his name—and he's been going on and on about homosexuality. So you kind of lean over and say, Excuse me, are you homosexual? And he looks at you and goes, not right now. And you go, what the fuck? And he goes, I used to dabble in it when I was younger however, just to set your mind at ease, I can totally tell you I'm an anal virgin. However, I totally sympathize with what women have to go through when they give a blowjob, if you know what I mean. And meanwhile I wouldn't, like, I missed the freaking point. My motto has always been, subtlety just confuses people. But hi, he didn't do ass.

Anyhow, it's also not going well when you notice your boyfriend of several months—a well-known TV personality—can only get off if he's having sex with you from behind while watching himself on the TV. It's kind of like getting spitroasted by the same guy. Fabulous. You should all try it.

Or, you know it's not going well when your indie film producer blind date says, you know you can probably tell by the look on my face that something's wrong. Because I knew him for all of five minutes beforehand, FYI. I'm like, oh really? No why? And he's like I totally shouldn't tell you. I'm like, oh come on I'm a gossip columnist, I won't tell anyone. And then he goes well you know, my ex-girlfriend just called and said that she's two months pregnant with my child. However, that bitch could totally be lying. I'm like, ohmygod, what are you a Ricki Lake show [inaudible]? I mean, hell. We didn't go on a second date.

But you know it's also not going well after you're fooling with this guy, he's totally cute, he's an Irish Catholic, from one of the boroughs, I won't say which one, and you wake up and you're hey, what's up, I'm putting on one of your shirts, I hope you don't mind. And he looks and he goes, oh my god that's not my shirt. And you go why not? And he goes it's my roommates. And I go what? And he goes, yeah, we're in my roommates room. And you go, [gasp!] Why are we not in your room? And he was like, oh well you know, it was closer? But his room was right next door so of course I want to go see his room, right? I check out his room, which by the way, his bed had hospital corners, above it was a bleeding Jesus Christ crucifix, and on the nightstand, an 8x11 glossy of his mother. [Loud gasp!] Holy shitbuggers! [inaudible] But there's more.

You probably should not go out with a guy who on the first date gets totally shitfaced, and by shitfaced I mean wobbling shitfaced. Seven hour date, at first I thought he was kinda hot and I just wanted to see where it would go. He gets totally shitfaced and at the end, randomly he screams out, "WE CAN FUCK BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE MY BABY!" I'm like holy shit, like I was going to inseminated myself right there, I mean it's not like I'm fucking 35. Not yet! Had my annual 25th for the eighth year in a row. So horrible, I ended up dating him for like 5 months. It didn't work out.

But the biggest warning sign that it's just not going to work out is when you're on a date with an Oscar-nominated, screenplay writer/director and he sits there and looks at you and says, "I spent much of December in Brazil with Fabio." And which point the hairs on the back of my neck stood up because it's kind of like saying you went to a strip joint with Tara Reid—nothing good can come of that shit. And so I go, oh? And he goes, well on my trip to Brazil with Fabio where I fucked so many women, my dick broke. And I'm like, ooohhh. And he goes, no really I've got the scabs to prove it. And I go holy shitbuggers, I'm from Ohio, where I come from we call that an STD. And he goes, no. I went to the doctor, I'm totally clean. And which point I was like, ha ha ha [inaudible]. It didn't really go anywhere after the second date, but thank goodness I am still an eternal optimist which is why, hi. I'm free, hi, if there's any straight ones out there [no one responds]. And also, is our first reader, Candace Bushnell who after many years of kissing frogs finally found her prince but is still going to regale us with stories of bad sex. All pre-Charles I'm sure. Just FYI, Charles is a stallion from what I've heard....

Svedka Erotica @ Gramercy Park Hotel [Photos]

JOURNALISTS are supposed to report the news, not make it. But that's an axiom Daily News Albany reporter Joe Mahoney apparently forgot yesterday when he was found allegedly drunk behind the wheel of his car at 4:23 a.m., Albany station CBS6 reported last night. Albany police told the station that Mahoney, a one-time flack for former state Attorney General Dennis Vacco, was found asleep inside his stationary car. He was awakened and given a Breathalyzer test, which revealed a blood-alcohol level of .10, 25 percent above the .08 legal limit. Cops then searched the car and found a small quantity of marijuana, according to the TV report. He was charged with driving while intoxicated and marijuana possession. Mahoney didn't return a call seeking comment. But he did send out a contrite e-mail declaring, "I deeply regret my conduct early this morning. I apologize profusely to the community and all those I have disappointed." Daily News spokeswoman Beth Seibold had no immediate reaction.

We at Gawker salute Page Six for its tireless advocacy against inebriates at the wheel. There's no place for that kind of behavior in this city.

SNOOZING NEWSIE IN DRUG BUST [NYP]

Earlier: RJ's DUI: A Misdemeanor, a Violation, and a Cute Little Ford Escape

'MORT AXED ME TO SAVE DOUGH' [NYP]

Just saw Mr. Page Six himself hop on the F train at 2nd Ave around 9:45 am. He was reading the Daily News, wearing a crisp blue shirt. Very tan.

Well, the subways are the clean, efficient, environmentally-friendly way to get around town. They also come in handy when your car in unavailable. You know, for whatever reason.

[Photo: Times Square.com]

VIDEO KING WORSE THAN WILD [NYP]

Earlier: Joe Francis Attacks Woman to Defend First Amendment

"I've been anally raped over and over by the media."

'Baby, Give Me a Kiss' [LAT]

[Photo: Getty Images]

Attorney Ed Hayes says that this is just a "routine" Q-and-A, but because Hayes has previously represented Jared Paul Stern, he is not representing Johnson in this matter. New York suggests that Murray Richman is handling the federal probe, but Richman says he's "not involved." Richman's daughter, Stacey, is representing Johnson on his DUI charges, but isn't handling feds. So, um, who the hell is Johnson's lawyer? Certainly he needs representation in this matter. Perhaps there's a tumbleweed who might be interested in the gig?

We Hear... Stern Questions [NYM]
Earlier: Gawker's Horse-Beating Coverage of Payola Six

Richard Johnson's Doppelg nger [NYM]