I have somewhat of a softspot for Gawker, it's writers, their stories, and the surrounding gossip. I have been valiantly reading Gawker since early 2005- since before it was a blog- it used to- in it's earliest incarnations- be... something else. A message board? A magazine? A "website"? It's very first redesign was to blog form. Anyway... I have my softest spot for those who arrive at Gawker, display brilliance, grow to hate it, and flame out in a firestorm of gossip you only have to slightly Google to get the real names on. As in, all of them.
So I was prepared to like this book. But it's so unlikable. Her better writing skills have left me with less venom than I feel towards Marieke Hardy, and I do appreciate the rawness of the revelations. Her college was crappy. Her waitressing jobs were glamorous. She lies to people. But the narcissism! The pointlessness! The circuitous story telling! Doesn't digging all this up for us to read leave her with a void where her inner secrets should be? Ugh, and story with the puppies is the worst- she's so cruel. Why? Why do that to pets? People. The worst.
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