We're roasting our former editor A.J. Daulerio, who has moved across the room to edit Gawker, a high-profile daily website that reports on addiction, recovery and the drug war. If you have an A.J. story to share, or if you would like to participate in some other way, please email email@example.com. Lightly sourced slander is welcome. Our guest now is A.J.'s girlfriend, who shall remain nameless.
When Tommy asked me to participate in this online roast of A.J. I didn't really want to do it. I felt bad because I imagined that disclosing the fact A.J. has a longish-term live-in girlfriend would somehow ruin this badass persona he's cultivated over the years. I mentioned this to Tommy, and he said, "Yeah, that's why we want you to write something!" So even though that makes me part of the embarrassing reveal, I'm in, because I can't say no to Tommy. A.J. just bought Tommy four pills of Viagra for Christmas by the way. There's actually three now because he lost one in a cab. He loses stuff a lot.
It's pretty hard to embarrass A.J., because he is not one to hide his flaws. It would neither surprise you nor embarrass him if I told you that after Drew's recent book reading in Brooklyn, A.J. got home at 4 a.m. and proceeded to roll off the bed TWICE while sleeping. When I woke up, everything was all wet because A.J. had urinated on the bed (I believe Drew alluded to this yesterday). I actually found the fact that he fell out of bed twice more surprising than the bed-wetting.
Last year we went to Cuba. When you travel there you have to bring all the cash you're going to use because your credit cards and ATM cards won't work. A.J. didn't bother to check out the exchange rate at all so he wound up spending more than half our funds in the first two days of our 10-day trip. He loved tipping everyone because they looked so happy—he had no idea how much money he was giving to everyone. He also gave away his pants to a guy in exchange for cigars our first morning there. He didn't even really want the cigars; he was just excited to give away pants. We went to a baseball game, and this man approached A.J. and asked if he wanted to see the announcer's booth. A.J was all excited and ran up with him. Then the guy asked if A.J. wanted a hat. Then a shirt. Then a signed ball. Then a picture with a player. A.J. giddily accepted ALL of these things. As we were leaving we tried to hand the guy a tip to be nice, and he said, "That's NOT enough." He took most of the money we had left. As we were walking to the cab we had the entire team following us into the car, trying to sell A.J. signed balls. We actually didn't have enough money left over for the departure tax and had to scramble to find a travel agency that could float us some cash. We almost missed the flight home.
Sorry, Tommy. I know you wanted really embarrassing, but I'd like to keep him because he's the best. (Not everyone gets to have her boyfriend offer his phone number to a site for women and proceed to get multiple calls, texts, and naked pictures of ladies throughout the day. Thanks, some members of Jezebel—especially you, stripper-pole lady. You were particularly charming.) I'll give you that photo at the top of the page and this one here, though, because the fact that he wears Boston gear while watching games with me (on occasion) would embarrass the shit out of him. I'll also give you this nugget (and I actually expect some sort of a payment for this)—he has a very minor skin condition. He's supposed to cure it by rubbing his arms with vaginal cream. Sorry, dear. Please yell at Tommy.