Early-to-rise AM New York takes a look today at an issue that will only grow more pressing as the economy sours and humans scavenge the city ever more voraciously for food: people posing as journalists to get into events—events where there will be free food, and drink, and warmth. The story is fundamentally an excuse for AMNY to shout "We're onto you!" at "Robert Miller," some dude who goes around town trying to crash events by posing as an AMNY reporter. Dude, bad idea for so many different reasons. But the larger issue is valid: how can flacks be sure they only kowtow to real reporters? And how can ordinary jerks crash parties reserved for media jerks only? Both questions answered in full, below: Flacks: Is this person a real reporter? Ask yourself these questions: 1. Is he poorly dressed? If so, you're probably dealing with an authentic journalist. Also a good option: Google the name on your little Blackberry, for chrissake. Do you find links to articles the person has written on the website of the news publication where he claims to work? Bingo, you've cracked the case. For regular people trying to pose as journalists to score some of those sweet spring rolls, mini-cheeseburgers, and signature cocktails named for the event sponsor, just follow these simple rules: 1. Dress poorly. 2. Act haughty and self-important. 3. Walk right in, acting surprised that they don't know who you are. 4. Claim to work for a blog. They can't call your boss. 5. Claim to be a freelancer. They can't call your boss. 6. Gaze into the crowd; wave randomly towards the back and shout, "Harvey!" Chuckle. Turn back to flack and say, "Now what's the problem here?" 7. Threats, threats, threats. If all else fails, pose as a UPS deliveryman. Those guys get in everywhere. [AMNY via PRNewser]

It seems that amNewYork is hiring dating columnists, but if you're anything like their former dating columnist Julia Allison, don't even think about applying. Says the ad: "We're looking for serious writers who can wax on a weekly topic with spunk and flair. We want several columnists who can sprinkle their stories with personal experiences, but also interview others (including experts) to round things out. Carrie Bradshaw wannabes need not apply." [Ed2020]
Earlier: Julia Allison Has An Opening That's Perfect For You!

AMNY has put together a positively delightful online photo gallery on "how to organize a great holiday party." The "friends" in the photos—which use products from Pottery Barn, Sheffield 57 and Fairway—are actual, real-life AMNY staffers. (At least one of them looks to be editorial staffer Justin Rocket Silverman.) Talk about cruel and inhumane expectations of employees! Follow their lead, if your idea of a dream dinner party is less "Manhattan" and instead something straight out of thirtysomething.

Today's Page Six went oddly deep on Ahmadinejadmania, airing complaints from an Iranian restaurant-owning fellow about being quoted in AMNY. "KAZ Bayati, owner of popular Persian eatery Persepolis, is afraid for his life after being incorrectly 'outed' as a supporter of Holocaust-denying Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad," blares the oddball gossip sheet. Only the thing is—AMNY didn't print the guy's last name, at his request. But Page Six did. So who's getting innocent people jailed and dismembered now, Richard Johnson? Ya big drama queen.

Hats off to AMNY's features editor Elaine Paoloni, who alerted us today to the sad tale of Kellen Hassell and Brianna Hvam, whose whole miserable existence takes place in their 295-square-foot apartment on 15th street between 7th and 8th avenues. Yes, the petit bourgeois who dwell in Manhattan's mini apartments deserve our respect . Though many housing avenues are open to them, they sacrifice it all to "live in the center of it all." 15th between 7th and 8th! The center of it all! Or at least, the center of domestic agony.

The late James Brown is evidently the hardest working man in death. Following his stint at the Apollo, the well-traveled Godfather of Corpses will be on display in Augusta, Georgia at James Brown Arena, which, it should be pointed out, is an arena bearing the name of James Brown.

Overpaid free-newspaper sex columnist Julia Allison's hot, gaping opening has been filled, yo. That's right: her search for a new assistant has netted one "Sara," who has a freshly-minted pink blogspot blog entitled Gentlemen Prefer (New York) Blondes. She says she's "pretty sure" that her life is "one long docudrama-comedy-chick flick that hasn't made it to the box office quite yet." We're pretty sure that we love her, because honestly, we love anything that makes our job easier.

An AMNY tipster reports that tonight's staff holiday party will feature "3 hours of open bar and 15 disgruntled journalists (we found out the web staff is making twice our salaries). Could get ugly..." Sounds delightful! But what would be really upsetting would be if dating columnist and horseback rider Julia Allison were making twice their salaries. Not that we're implying anything.