Everything You're Not, You Are
or... Bad > You < Good, where You cannot = 0.
I report for my first day of work at Conde Nast on Monday for a 3-month market research gig. This is notable for two reasons:
1) as a once promising Gawkerbot who later self-destructed, I did my share of crapping in the Conde pool as a guest-editor and here on my site.
2) I have a $100 bet with Nick, Lock, and Elizabeth that I'll actually show up this time. Vegas has it at even-money. (AJ, what do you say??)
Fortunately I'm now a reformed media blogger and hereby pledge my allegiance to the Newhouse family. It helps that I was hired primarily for my data analysis skills, not writing (lucky for everyone involved) which Choire Sicha was nice enough to highlight in his recommendation letter for me.
Any concern that I'm being planted as a mole has been alleviated by signing an NDA that penalizes any breach of contract with death by curling irons, or worse, deportation to Jersey. In an act of good faith, I am taking even stricter measures and have agreed to undergo the memory-erasing procedure known as "Eternal Sunshine of the Blogless Mind" tomorrow night. (Sac, please don't screw this up or get distracted by Maccers.) For your part, dear friends and readers, I ask that you never mention Gawker Media to me ever again. Thanks For Everything and Goodbye GM, I never knew ya.
(Nick/Lock, Meeeet meee innn Monnntaaauk...)
I report for my first day of work at Conde Nast on Monday for a 3-month market research gig. This is notable for two reasons:
1) as a once promising Gawkerbot who later self-destructed, I did my share of crapping in the Conde pool as a guest-editor and here on my site.
2) I have a $100 bet with Nick, Lock, and Elizabeth that I'll actually show up this time. Vegas has it at even-money. (AJ, what do you say??)
Fortunately I'm now a reformed media blogger and hereby pledge my allegiance to the Newhouse family. It helps that I was hired primarily for my data analysis skills, not writing (lucky for everyone involved) which Choire Sicha was nice enough to highlight in his recommendation letter for me.
Any concern that I'm being planted as a mole has been alleviated by signing an NDA that penalizes any breach of contract with death by curling irons, or worse, deportation to Jersey. In an act of good faith, I am taking even stricter measures and have agreed to undergo the memory-erasing procedure known as "Eternal Sunshine of the Blogless Mind" tomorrow night. (Sac, please don't screw this up or get distracted by Maccers.) For your part, dear friends and readers, I ask that you never mention Gawker Media to me ever again. Thanks For Everything and Goodbye GM, I never knew ya.
(Nick/Lock, Meeeet meee innn Monnntaaauk...)
Comments:
Congrats and good luck. Blow em away with your stats!
I work at Conde Nast too and if I ever catch you snapping camera phone pictures of the bathroom I will kick your ass six ways to Sunday.
Awesome. I'll try to think of an extra 4 ways so we can make it a perfect 10.
here's the pool: what time you show up; how many days you call in sick; how long you last. (at least it's a quick commute.)
you'll show up, if only for the chance to lunch on google sushi with dens
Double Ups to you Mr. Krucoff; Good Luck.
Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker Gawker.
Gawker.
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