To Snark and to be Loved by Me

Ah, my fellow Gawker commenters. So terribly smart and armed-to-the-teeth with obscure references and puns for any occasion.

With wit, charm and no small amount of schadenfreude, the men and women chosen to weigh-in on posts at Gawker's sites with unbalanced opinions, straight-up rants, in-fighting and bon mots oneupmanship are usually more entertaining than the post to which they refer.

Editors regularly single out commenters for praise or, more often, execution. For the year I've been throwing in my .02 I've found Gawker's decisions to be mostly apt. I was once executed (for suggesting post topic quotas existed at Gawker HQ) and invited to "eat a dick". Superfly boyfriend was delighted to hear it!

I pleaded and whined until they reluctantly let me back in to the super secret treehouse club. I've kept my nose clean and focused my comments to topics I actually know something about. Chances are I'll never check in to the Gold Star Motel — unless completely by accident — but it's personally rewarding to do more than sneer, laugh, or gasp at the laptop screen. Sharing is, after all, caring, nu?

So when you visit a Gawker site, read the comments. You'll find some of the funniest, most entertaining, and occasionally perplexing witticisms that exist online. The next time an open invitation to become a commenter comes along, consider joining in the frayed fun.

Unrelated: How is it possible I have 20+ mosquito bites and haven't died of some tropical disease yet? Not only do I live next to a wildlife preserve where plague exists amongst the woodland creatures therein but dadgum West Nile Virus is a-poppin'!

Amusing story related to the unrelated bit: A guy in line behind me at the grocery checkout tapped me on the shoulder and helpfully instructed me to make a paste of meat tenderizer and MSG (Lawry's Seasoned Salt was his recommendation) and rub it on my itchy, red welts. "The MSG kills the poison" he soberly said.

I definitely prefer the advice of random strangers in Colorado than that of the clearly barking loony mad ones in Brooklyn.

Let Them Eat Cupcakes

Woe is me, I've been EXECUTED by Gawker. I was invited to suck someone's weenie at Gawker. Unfortunately, I'm on a strict no-toxic-weenies diet these days. Besides, when would it ever be available for sucking --It's always shoved up a repellent someone's (Maer Roshan, Julia Allison, Dave Z.'s, etc.) ass.

Anyway, it's just been one of those days.

My recently-former employer arrogantly and unapologetically stealing my stories, this commenter execution bummer, and having to motherfucking pack every damn piece of shit thing in this apartment.

Here's hoping a night of Waikiki Wally's will see an improvement in my mood.

SUMBITCH!

America's Top Walking Coatracks

Anyone watching Season 7 of Tyra's model farming show? Me either. Mad Love for Tyra, don't get me wrong — small doses, small doses. Anyhoo. Gawker did a quick spoiler on the apparent winner, another pretty giraffe with a stupid name; this time Miss Cover Girl Ad Extra is named after a shopping avenue in L.A.: Melrose. The episode airs December 6, if you want to check it out.

Bored on a Sunday evening, I clicked around and found some REALLY ANGRY and MEAN Melrose Bickerstaff fans here who have a caps lock addiction and strong ideas on just who "owned" whom on American Top Model, Season 7. Makes for good schadenfreunde (I know the commenters spelling is atrocious, try sounding it out).

*Wave* to anyone checking out my blog from my comments on Gawker. Thanks for stopping by! I'm actually no one of consequence and my blog is choc-a-bloc with useless information and boring stories, but I'm thrilled you had a passing interest.

In other news: I broke a personal record in online Mah Jong Solitaire (Taipei).