Your temporary editor is now off for Penn Station to squeeze onto the Montauk line before you do. Last one to the Hamptons is a shitty social climber!

Regrets this week, I've had but a few. For instance, I never got a chance to cheerfully mock Believer editor Heidi Julavits, who thinks criticism must be constructive and supportive to be meaningful. (I hope she enjoyed this week's Salon review of Chuck Palahniuk's new book.) And I'm sad that certain celebrities didn't appear in the media at all this week for my infernal delectation — but isn't that the best revenge of all? Poor stars, ignored by the papers, weeping at their vanities as they brush out their once-lustrous hair. But what does it matter, really: none of us shall escape as the Reaper laughs and spins his scythe, as Gary Busey once sagely noted.

It's been a delight for me to sub for the magnificent Elizabeth Spiers this week while her facelift bruises fade. Please welcome her back with loving arms on Monday. And remember: I'm available to do parties, trashy on-the-rebound love affairs, and, just like all of you snarky children of Manhattan, I have The Best Novel Ever for sale to some lucky publisher this winter. Come aboard, I'm expecting you.

When I sincerely say to you "Thanks for having me this week," I very much hope that you're saying back to your computer monitors, "Well, thanks for being had."

—Choire Sicha
Temporary Gawker Editor In Charge of Keeping It Crunk, Retired
New York City