I'm not atoning for SHIT.

All I wish for this last year gone by is that I'd done more smoking, fucking and reading of science fiction books. And I did a *lot* of two of those three. (Seriously, there's not a Winston Light or a Roger Zelazny that I haven't touched this year. And considering Zelazny, who is by far and away one of the most absolutely bestest fiction writers of our time, died of cancer at 58, that's probably not a great combination.)

Yup, that's it. I guess I'm sorry I wasn't ruder about the incredible hubris of Michael Wolff.

God, why is he such a little slumbitch?

And I wish I'd bought my soon-to-be-former coworker Balk a few more stiff drinks, but I'll get right on that amends first thing next week.

Being asked to apologize brings out the Human Nature-era Madonna in me. You know, "I'm naaaaaaaaat saaaaaaaaaaaaaaareeee, it's human nature/ I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me/I'm not apologizing!" However, I guess we are all doing this Blogger's Selichot thing today, and I might as well take my sins down to the water's edge and cast them away while I've got the opportunity. So here goes.

• Dear Social Life EIC Devorah Rose: I'm sorry I started the rumor that you were a stripper. I'm also sorry that I ended the rumor that you were a stripper! I know you didn't really want me to disabuse people of that illusion, but the truth is pretty important to me.
• Dear Village Voice writer Tricia Romano: Regarding your Ultragrrrl article a while back, I quoted something you told me in an email. I should have asked your permission or reminded you that you were on the record. This was a dick thing of me to do; I was just learning the ropes at the time (still learning!) and I realized at the time that I had hung you out to dry but I had too much pride to apologize. Then one night Balk dragged me over to apologize to you at a party! That was a dick thing of him to do, but I'm glad he did it. Even though he is a massive, massive dick.

  No, I will never apologize for saying that Balk is a dick.

• Dear Julia Allison, I'm sorry I called you a "pundit-floozy" a while back. Now that I know you better, I understand that you're not a floozy at all. You're serially monogamous with a series of jerks, just like me!
• Dear Sarah Silverman: I am sorry you have to do it with Jimmy Kimmel. I'm also sorry that you're way smarter and funnier than he is. You're kind of letting the whole female race down with this shit, dude. I guess that was more of a "Jewpology" than an apology. Oops! Hey, it's cute when I'm funny in a bitchy quasi-Antisemitic way, right?
• Dear Internet: I'm sorry I overshared with you about my personal feelings. Looking back, I wish I hadn't abused you with my ranting about how I believed in love (don't worry, I no longer do!) or posted pictures of myself in a bathing suit, thereby establishing a dangerous precedent that can only end badly with some kind of Choire-Balk wrestling singlet shot. Wow, if that comes to pass, we will ALL be sorry.

I'm not a big one for apologies, but the faith of my mothers insists that I atone, so atone I will. I've wronged some folks over the last year. Sorry 'bout that.

• The people of Darfur. I guess there's something bad happening to you right now? Something I should be upset about enough to write my congressman or send money to someone? See, the thing is, I want to care about this, I really do, but the summer was totally hectic, and now with this new fall season... between "Gossip Girl" and "The Hills" alone I barely have enough room in my schedule for "me time," which I think you'll agree is the most important time of all. Tell you what, Darfur: If, come Christmas, you're still having trouble with whatever it is that's bothering you, drop me a line and I promise to at least read up on it. Actually, December's crazy for me, I turn 35, and then, you know there are the holidays. Maybe January. Some time after New Year's, but before the King holiday, which is when I do my annual spa retreat. But seriously, Darfur, I'm sorry. Please keep in touch.
  
• Tony Snow. I think you might have accidentally caught the cancer I've been wishing on George W. Bush for the last seven years. My bad.
  
• Band of Horses. I admit it, I downloaded your new record Cease to Begin. I promise to pay full price for it when it's released in stores, even if it does feel a little thin compared to the last one, which was AMAZING. I'm sorry; I'm going to listen to it over and over until I learn to love it.
  
• Everyone in the office. You're going to be hearing a lot of the new Band of Horses in the near future. Be patient, it's a good record! I think!
  
• Doree Shafrir. Choire just told me that my constant sexual harassment and my habit of referring to you as "toots," "sweetie," or "the other girl," were big factors in you leaving Gawker. That is so not what I wanted. Sorry, babe.
  
• My Cock. I know I haven't put you on the site lately. Please don't start giving your material to anyone else, I'll try to get something by you up soon.
  
• Choire. I know you hate the posts by My Cock, but, uh, expect some soon.
  
• The Jews. When I'm tucking into my mouthwatering crackling pork shank at Maloney and Porcelli during lunch tomorrow, I promise to at least spare a thought for you guys. You'll probably be starving.
  

Tonight is Kol Nidre; tomorrow, the Jews of the world apologize to anyone who will listen about all their conniving heeb behavior during the previous lunar year. On Saturday, city and state machers (and anyone who shelled out $150 for the honor of dovening next to Gov. Spitzer) can be found self-flagellating at Temple Emanu-El. Observant lesbians will be found beating their hoary bosoms at the prestigious Park Slope Jewish Center. Hipster Jews in pink tights will like pray or whatever at The Shul of New York, the Mr. Black of synagogues. So in the spirit of atonement and definitely wanting to end up in the Book of Life , here's a list of individuals to whom I'd like to apologize.

• Publicist LOLgay Kristian Laliberte: You may be a vapid husk of a man, but you are helping out the UN so at least you're a vapid husk of a mensch too. Credit where credit is due. We wish you luck in your ongoing battle against Micah Jesse and the limitations of your soul.
  
• Moby: When we saw you last night at Tropical, that crazy woods-themed bar in Chinatown, you seemed like a nice enough guy, buying Red Bull for your friends and drinks too. Maybe you aren't a semicolon but an inverted exclamation point, after all.
  
• Fred Kibbler III: You were the wasted journalist at the Ivy Cup but apparently you weren't wasted, so you told that to our lawyer. Our bad. You are totally not an alcoholic.
  
• NY Post real estate guy Braden Kiel: Sorry for never, not once, spelling your name correctly. Oh shit. I did it again. Sorry!
  
• Brenda: When we stayed with you in the Hamptons you were nothing but kind and a little bit crazy. You even took us to one of the superlative parties of our lives. Did you deserve to be mocked for your cameltoe and quirkiness? Probably. But also, probably not.
  
• Rachel Sklar: Sorry for focusing on your rack to the exclusion of everything else you've accomplished in your life. That said, it is your most valuable asset.
  
• Julia Allison: Ditto but sub lack of all dignity for rack.