As you might have noticed — mainly because we kind of haven't shut up about it, much to our own detriment — our beloved little site turned one year old yesterday. When we personally turned one year old in 1976, we celebrated by drinking in extreme excess, so we thought we'd do the same thing last night.
All kinds of nice people showed up at our little soir
e, which was impressive, considering it was on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, an area of town your average Gawker Media employee tends to be rather frightened of. (We purposedly had the party in a sports bar far from the Lower East Side, just to make as many people as uncomfortable as possible. It worked!) But the longest commute of all had to belong to our father, who made a surprise visit all the way from Mattoon. We know he had a good time, because it's nearly 2 p.m., and he's still asleep next to us on the couch.
Anyway, it's tradition around these parts for famed blog photographer — this is an actual designation — Nikola Tamindzic to click away at events such as this one, so after the jump, take a ride in our magical mystery Dodge Stratus and relive events from about 16 hours ago. Warning: Entirely insular commentary and in-jokes to follow.
So we would like to give you some big setup, about how this party had overcome some overwhelming adversity, but, really, everyone just showed up and started drinking. Which is the only way we would have it. The captions to these photos, therefore, will have the same pithy, blurry feel of the evening. Except it's impossible to conveying "passing out" in HTML. Believe us, we've tried.
Gawker Media managing editor Lockhart Steele and Fishbowl NY editor (and Deadspin tennis correspondent) Dylan Stableford are the center and left guard, respectively, and former Gawker editor/current New York senior editor (online) Jesse Oxfeld is Matt Leinart, or Kordell Stewart, take your pick.
Former Black Table managing editor Aileen Gallagher and some guy named Matt — whose last name we always forget, which is kind of a jerk thing to do, considering we pretty much see him everywhere — discuss Matt's befuddling lack of a last name. (It's actually "Caldecutt," we're told.)
The Assimilated Negro, who also has a dubiously named sports blog, does his impersonation of Frank Solich, Bob Huggins and Paris Hilton while his friend tries to figure out why bands feel the need to abbreviate the word "and." In the background, Week In Craig virtuoso Amy Blair dreams of a Barber sandwich.
It would not be a Deadspin party without uncomfortable high fives. The guy in the middle is not Dana Carvey, by the way.
Fellow Black Tabler and current Maxim senior editor Eric Gillin puts an arm around Laura Davis, who wonders what he's doing with that other hand.
This woman is Kristine Blinn, and she reads Deadspin. (See! There are tons of female readers!) She's actually wearing a "You're With Me, Leather" T-shirt during the New York City mini-marathon next month, and that's about the best thing we've ever heard.
Seriously, Dad picked the worst possible time to tell us we were adopted.
Matt Dorfman designed the cover to Life As A Loser, and Kristen Pettit was the editor of Catch. So blame them.
Christ, took you two long enough.
The guy on the left is Eric Ortner, who we're told is a producer for "Good Morning America." The guy in the middle is David Goodwillie, who wrote a really good book and used to play minor league baseball. Whitney Pastorek is trying with limited success to convince them that Mario Williams was a totally awesome pick.
Matt Ufford and Erin Schulte see your camera and they LOVE IT.
This is Peter Schrager and John Bolster. One works for Fox Sports. The other works for Penthouse. See if you can guess which is which.
Lindsay Robertson and Ortner celebrate Anibal Sanchez's no-hitter. Naw, we're just shittin' ya.
The guy who did all those awesome Hall Of Fame plaques? Jim Cooke. That's him. He's a genius.
Look: Definitive proof that Nick Denton has been above 14th Street in Manhattan. We're as stunned as you.
We knew it was getting late when this guy was all, "Hey, I'm a stringray, and Mr. Leitch, you're Steve Irwin, and I'm all like RAWWWRRRRRRR!"
And then they made us give a speech, which we didn't know was coming. Within five minutes of the end of the speech ... everyone was gone. Hard to blame them, one supposes.
So yeah: This is why there were probably a lot of spelling errors this morning.