There was a period when emails from the Gawker tipline were still forwarding to my personal inbox, long after I had been escorted off the premises, and it was quite the chore to get that floodgate finally closed on the other end. But before that happened I was inadvertently privy to the usual spray of crap that comes over the Gawker transom, including employee chitchat and whatnot, all of which I dutifully deleted, eventually even setting up a rule to handle it. But before that, one of the things forwarded my way was a Hamptons pic of a half-naked Julia Allison lying atop Jakob Lodowick as they … floated on a pool? I think that was it. I remembered this image after noticing recent Julia-related events regarding her litigious attempts to sanitize her online image (and imagery). I thought it might be funny to get that old salacious pic and just crop out everything but Jakob’s beautifically serene expression and post it without comment, as a callback to the TINY percentage of people who might recognize it as a reminder that the internet never forgets, etc. I was puzzled however to not find that old message still in my gmail, till I remembered happening across it by accident a couple years ago and feeling guilty about having it at all, and deleting it then. So at least that one little corner of the internet did forget, even though this one now won’t, conceptually speaking.
- mess with type on a box of Lunchables to make some sort of “blood libel” joke. Blood Libel-ables? not sure where that was going
- complaint that I’m the only one who ever eats the heels from loaves of bread at our house
- add bear paw over face to picture of Alex Balk as bear
- character monologue representing a hybrid of Alex Blagg’s Bajillion Hits voice with Tucker Max, something like “Your blog’s logo should blow its strat load all over the dentures of every bus stop hooker in your target demo” but didn’t like where that was going
So You're Thinking of Sending Sexy Pictures to Your Lover?
We’re so into each other and I just want to tease him a little bit. It’ll be hot. Wonderful. Your naked pictures will end up on the internet. Hah, no they won’t, he wouldn’t do that. Yes, he would, and he will. Or someone else will. Seems unlikely. In fact, it’s mandatory. Your naked body will be on the internet. No, he’ll be the only one who sees them. They will be on the internet. He wouldn’t do that. He will. He will show those photos to his friends. Or even send them. Maybe he’ll be drunk, who knows? He wouldn’t do that. He will. Maybe after you break up. We’re not breaking up! Then before you break up, or during. You will be nude on the internet. It is guaranteed to happen. Instantly. I don’t think so. I don’t believe you. The internet doesn’t care about your thoughts or beliefs. It just wants your nakedness, and the internet shall have your nakedness all over it. How do you know? Look on the internet. See all the millions of pictures of naked girls making sexy camera poses. Many posted these photos themselves. Many did not. The internet does not care, it takes them all. Even if just some small percentage of those girls did not want their pictures posted, think about about how many millions of naked photos there are online, and how many millions and billions of fapping pageviews those photos have generated. Try to imagine the exact facial expression on every single masturbating man on the internet, at the moment of orgasm, while squinting at your naked body on the internet. Maybe I won’t send the sexy pictures. Too late. You are already naked on the internet. I didn’t even take the pictures yet. Still too late.
The Access Network Company (TANC for short) is a next-gen media company (oh yeah, we own BlackBook) specializing in setting up hot dates between publishers and brands in the hyperlocal space. From Elle to Bravo to Town & Country and Showtime, we’ve already landed some of the world’s biggest and…
I had a terrific time at the GroupMe/Jumo party this week - read all about it courtesy of Adrienne Jeffries here. In a night filled with wonderful people (what a group, seriously) and good old-fashioned silly dancing karaoke moshing fun (yes, I would call that a karaoke mosh pit and I mosh with the best of them, dammit), I had two stand-out moments, and they both came courtesy of the GroupMe accountant.
Yes, the accountant.
You may have read about him in the kicker - his name is Joey Friedman and here’s how he made my night:
(1) After bonding over a diehard karaoke rendition of “Scenes From An Italian Restaurant” we both realized that we loved showtunes, and proceeded to have an off-mic perfect-unison multi-musical songfest off to the side, hitting Rent, Joseph, Les Miz and, in a medley of searing emotion, Miss Saigon. We can’t forget, must not forget, that they are all our children too!
(2) Joey and GroupMe co-founder Jared Hecht sang a flat-out incredible rendition of “Brian Wilson” by the Barenaked Ladies (above). I was one of the few people singing along. Because, you see, I’ve known all the words to that song since NINETEEN FRICKING NINETY TWO. When it came out, on their first CD, and it was on continuously in my second-year apartment that I shared with my friends Stacey Pollock and Romy Saibil. It was in this apartment, btw, that I also watched the Clinton Inauguration. THE FIRST ONE. For the duration of that song, I was half rocking out in a Silicon Alley startup party-pad and half back in that apartment where I’d write my papers out longhand with the help of piles of books, unless I needed to go to the library and find something on microfiche. So that was fun.
"It’s like Dazed and Confused,” one well-known New York venture capitalist told The Observer as he surveyed the festivities. “I get older, entrepreneurs stay the same age.”
Or, act the same age. Thanks for a really fun party!
Ah yes, former BlackBook accountant Joey “[redacted]” Friedman. Famous for the time he [redacted] in [redacted] [redacted] or [redacted] with [redacted]. Somewhere I still have his signed apology for breaking my desklamp. But he did replace it, which shows you that he’s a good man and a fine accountant. I look forward to getting his [redacted] one day when this whole internet thing is finally over.
Because when I was a kid, during very rare Alabama snowstorms or hard freezes that knocked out the power, the family would all condense into the living room around the fireplace. My mom would make “army soup,” i.e. a cauldron of all material that was due to spoil from the freezer/fridge. It was a delectable goulash of formerly frozen vegetables and whatever meats and other stuff we had at the time. After sundown, all we had were candles or flashlights, so you could read for a bit, shoot the breeze with the fam, but mostly you just kept ladling out this soup and noshing on it, getting more and more turgid and sleepy with food, till you nodded off about 9pm latest. Then if you woke up and it was getting chilly, you’d put some wood on the fire, and check the soup pot. Still warm? Why not have a couple more spoonfuls …
Also, we had an ancient woodpile that we rarely used much due to the infrequent need for a fire. Some of the logs had been in there ten years. Unbeknownst to us, one such massive piece of tinder hosted a colony of stag beetles inside its core. When it burned, the beetles all came staggering out, on fire, making a tiny high-pitched squeaking noise as they wandered around in the fireplace. I think it was the sound of their insides cooking. My folks and I shrieked half in horror and half in delight as we swatted the burning beetles back into the fireplace so they wouldn’t incinerate the carpet. Didn’t smell too good I have to say. Kind of put me off the army soup in fact, but only for awhile.
just happened to notice — on one of my brief, infrequent returns to Facebook — that someone who I was Facebook friends with has died. Had no idea who she was till I checked the mutual friends list, which was all old-school blogger types, and then finally noted it was someone I had written about once at Gawker. I didn’t know her, don’t really know what she’d been up to lately, but her Facebook profile shows lots of well-wishers. I don’t really have a takeaway here, other than to observe that I suppose this sort of thing will begin to happen more and more frequently, until someday someone’s writing this post about me.