Young Gawker Editor Elizabeth Spiers has learned an important lesson this week — you get what you pay for when it comes to Botox. Lower East Side home botulism concotions are... what's the word? Unpredictable.

Although she cannot move any part of her face at all, Ms. Spiers will be dictating to me all this week using a complicated series of symbols and glyphs that she calls "English." Here at Gawker Headquarters, she is stretched out on a divan; our new hunky Austrian intern Klaus is using a turkey baster to feed her the morning's first Bloody Mary. Oh, Jann Wenner never had it so good! She — Elizabeth, that is — looks fantastic, absolutely placid, completely at peace. I shall be proud to be her voice once more this week. May all your prayers be with her and the forthcoming movement of her lovely rigored facial muscles.

P.S. Last time I guest-edited Gawker, I got a ton of mail for Ms. Choire Sicha. Although I am a feminist, that is still incorrect. Let me clarify by borrowing some words once overheard in a bar, spoken by a lovely Japanese transexual to her suddenly unhappy date: "I AN MAN."