Regarding the slight tardiness today and yesterday — I've been having a little kerfluffle with Gawker Media HR department. Yes, they're trying to railroad me into rehab. Again! Well I have one thing to say: fuuuuuuuck you! I took this job because I could have a Pabst and a smoke and work in my underwear, and I won't be alienated from those inalienable rights.

To make matters worse, the Cargo launch party went a little late last night. Page Six's Paula Froelich tried to strangle one of those mean little girls from Lucky and, bob's your uncle, of course we all celebrated with an extra round or three of Conde Nast-sponsored cocktails. I'm having a hard time with English this morning but everything promises to make sense shortly.

[Update: In my haze, I have totally besmirched my good name. Of course I didn't go to the Cargo party! Eww. We drink at home, hello. I would like, however, to solicit accounts of those attending. People?]