Apologies for our slower-than-usual start; we've been dealing with a technical issue that makes an already half-lucid Monday morning all the more fun. (A tip we read on Lifehacker but nonetheless ignored: Repeatedly screaming "Fuck you, devil box!" at your computer is generally an ineffective troubleshooting technique.)
Hello to everyone who used to work in showbiz back when it existed. I've been instructed to introduce myself. My name is Jarrett Grode, I'm a Los Angeles native, and a very sporadically employed actor, writer, and blogger. I will be guest writing for the site today while Mark does something Mark-like. If this goes well, it will have no positive impact on anyone or anything.
Every once in a while, a Communications Ensign from the bridge of the Gawker Media mothership requests that we briefly pause to explain some new and exciting features they've added to this Web Log for your enjoyment, and because we've learned that disobedience of these directives invariably leads to the sting of the lash or the burn of the cupful of acid tossed faceward, we are more than happy to comply. Starting immediately, there are some new whizbang-y doodads available that will help our cherished, tight-knit community of commenters (more on how to become a commenter here) further enmesh themselves in each other's online lives by tracking the activity of their "friends" and "followers." Sound neat-o? It is! Let's learn more:
We know what you're thinking right now: "Gee whiz, Defamer, it would be so great if there was a way that I could answer some survey questions that might help your parent company painlessly collect some demographic information in exchange for the chance to win a $100 Amazon gift certificate." Amazingly, Gawker Media's Survey Administration Department has—just this morning!—asked us to provide you with such an opportunity. Answer these questions, then type your e-mail address into the box following those questions, and you'll be entered in a drawing for the aforementioned Amazon prize. In a word: Fun!
As you may have noticed, a minor redesign of the site has just gone live. Fun, right? We'll leave you discover all the new gizmos, doodads, and what-have-you our design team has whipped up this time around, but if anything seems to be broken in the nip/tucked layout, please drop us a line and let us know (and telling us your browser and OS version always helps).
Hey everybody. Nick Malis here. Since Mark is off on another one of his suspiciously frequent vacations, I'm gonna be helping Seth out as guest editor for the next two days. You may recognize me as an occasional correspondent for this very site, or from the blogs that I used to write but have now sort of abandoned: Malis in Wonderland and Cute Things Falling Asleep. But fear not, reader— I won't abandon you. Not when there's new Britney Spears crotch shots to analyze. Alright, enough jibber jabber. Let's do this!
As our more astute readers have pointed out to us both in an earlier comment thread and in some concerned emails, Mr. Defamer appears to have been kidnapped by Peter Krause, star of Filthy Smutty Cash, a new show on a television network we hardly need to name in this space. Let us just say this and move on with our day: We were just as surprised as you to wake up and see Nate Fisher's face smirking back at us, but our sales department quickly silenced any of our concerns about advertorial crassness by showing us the mock-up they rejected, which we've reproduced after the jump:
We seem to be back online (fingers, toes crossed) following the Great Gawker Media Server Crash of Early Fall 2007, so the small amount of work we were able to accomplish during the downtime should start appearing as you scroll down the page. To make up for today's unfortunate developments, we've mailed each and every one our our readers a single red velvet cupcake—monitor your mailboxes for our "We're sorry" gift.
By the time you read this, the problem will probably already have magically worked itself out, but we seem to be experiencing one our weekly Friday server meltdowns. Please bear with us until our Soviet-era equipment is switched out for slightly better machines obtained at a recent Kabul computer fair.
Your enthusiastic calls for more anonymous surveys about nonspecific, possibly personally intrusive topics have been answered: Because someone inside Gawker Media's Survey Administration Department loves you more than you can ever know, we're once again offering the chance to win prize-like stuff for answering question-type things. Just click over here to take this survey, then e-mail the last question asked to surveys[at]gawker.com for a chance to be the one random winner of a $300 Ikea gift card. My word, the fun you'll have luxuriating in an easy chair you've assembled with a single hex wrench! Remember, the price of this amazing opportunity is that you agree to be bound by our standard contest rules. Surveys aweigh!
As is his wont, Defamer associate editor Seth gave me very little notice of the vacation he was embarking on beginning today, casually calling me up last night with the flimsy excuse that he'd accepted a week-long gig punching up the script for Feed The Bears II: The Bears Are Still Hungry!, a sequel to the ursine-glutton fetish classic rushed into production following the original film's unexpected exposure on Late Night with Conan O'Brien. Whatever he's actually doing for the next seven days, I trust he will return refreshed next Monday, with plenty of amusing, completely fabricated stories about how the talent kept botching his favorite scene, in which two of his burly stars gnaw on opposite ends of a succulent watermelon.
Since we just realized that it's been, like, months (or maybe it just feels like months, so painful is the non-survey-offering void in our lives?) since we've given you the opportunity to fill out some survey questions in exchange for the chance to win a generous prize, here we go again: Take this survey, right now, before your "life" or "job" distracts you with some trivial, survey-delaying matter (doesn't that "survey" word get funny after you read it a half-dozen times?), then e-mail the last question asked to surveys[AT]gawker.com , and someone in a cubicle inside Gawker Media's survey-administration division will choose one random winner to receive a $300 Ikea gift card. But remember: As always, your participation in today's surveymania event is subject to our contest rules. Get to surveyin'!
Do you have a camera, editing skills, balls (we speak figuratively, of course, as we're an ovary-positive shop), and a total disregard for either your professional reputation of your personal safety? If you answered affirmatively to most of the items in that list, you may have a place on the Defamer team. We're looking for a video freelancer to handle an exciting array of future projects that involve brazenly sticking your lens in places where it probably doesn't belong. If you're interested, continue on for a list of some requirements and the way to submit yourself for consideration:
As anyone who's ever gone under the knife in a desperate attempt to stay competitive with the kittens who keep stealing all the fresh cougar bait knows all too well, facelifts don't last forever. Those who remember the last time we elected for some minor blogoplasty can probably guess that the surgeon interrupted us before we could get out a single response to his "tell me what you don't like about yourself" invitation, choosing instead to go batshit upon our humbled, naked form with his unforgiving grease pencil. We're still a little unsure about the results, but he did gently whisper a promise that we'll come to love his work once the swelling goes down as we luxuriated on his bearskin rug, exhausted from a vigorous round of coitus.
While we know that it does no one any real good to post notices about the technical difficulties that occasionally prevent us from serving your Grazerhead-related needs in a timely fashion, it nonetheless makes us feel better to let you know that a problem with the evil voodoo-box that holds our blog posts hostage until a proper offering of fresh poultry is made has hobbled us for the last three hours or so. But the required chickens have now been slaughtered, so things should again function properly, and our regular posting schedule will resume shortly.
It is with great corporate-sibling pride that we announce the relaunch of Gridskipper, our "decadent urban travel guide" sister site, which has just rolled out a number of features that will assist you, the Los Angeles-based libertine whose substance abuse problem has not yet slipped from the "She's so fun!" to the "She just puked in my closet and stole all my clothes!" stage, in the pursuit of your after-hours hobbies. Gridskipper's gone map-happy, reorienting nearly all of its posts around interactive maps that will more efficiently direct you towards the happy hour, smoking haven, or coke bar of your drug-addled dreams. And should you ever make the grievous mistake of leaving the greater L.A. area, many other fine cities are covered as well. Drop by and give the new toys a whirl.
Right about now, we know exactly what you need to get you to the Friday afternoon finish line: a superfun chance to win a fantastic prize by answering some totally unintrusive survey questions! We know! How did you people ever get so lucky? So here's how you get in on this directive from our ad sales team: Take this survey, e-mail the last question asked to surveys[at]gawker.com, and one random winner will receive a year of Netflix's 3-DVD-at-a-time subscription. And best of all: your participation is, like, amazingly subject to our usual contest rules! Another word in exuberant italics!
Every so often, Defamer is thrilled to provide its readers with a super-fun opportunity to answer some questions in exchange for a chance to win a totally bitchin' prize. Are you ready to take advantage of this amazing offer that we'd share with you even if our ad sales enforcer weren't threatening to toss our broken bodies into a canyon off Mulholland Drive for noncompliance? Of course you are! So here's what you do: take this survey (we have no idea if it's another one about whom you like to have sex with), send an e-mail with the last question asked to surveys[at]gawker.com, and one random winner will receive a free year of Netflix's 3-at-a-time DVD subscription. How psyched are we on your behalf right now? Very, very psyched, for our standard contest rules apply.
Please join us in welcoming the newest addition to the Gawker Media* family of blog-formatted web properties: Jezebel, a title just rolled out to service the needs of the vagina-having segment of the internet population, and dedicated to tarnishing the shiny objects that the Women's Magazine Industrial Complex deceives ladies into believing they desire. A snippet from their manifesto:
As part of Gawker Media's ongoing attempts to better serve its advertisers readers by bribing them with a chance to win exciting prizes in exchange for some anonymous demographic information, we are happy to present the following Defamer FunTime Poll. Tell us a little bit about your sexual preference, submit your e-mail address (don't worry, it's not linked to your vote), and you'll be entered in a random drawing for a $250 Amazon gift certificate. Creepy? Not even a little, we're told!
