A bit of sports media folklore: in a Scottsdale bar, at some undefined time in the mid-90s, a man was hitting on a woman wearing leather pants. He was quickly cockblocked, however, when ESPN anchor Chris Berman walked by and said to the woman, "You're with me, leather." She immediately got up and followed Berman out the door. The story was sent to our ball-loving brother Deadspin and has since become a favorite Deadspin non-sequitor catchphrase. Hell, they even made a t-shirt for it, wildly popular amongst all the men who still collect baseball cards. Everyone was happy.

George Clooney wouldn't leave us alone. Everywhere we went — us at Gawker, you the readers, everyone — he was there. Following us, menacing us, interfering with our lives. We thought about slugging him, like Sean Penn. If we drove, we would have had an accident, like Lindsay Lohan. We just wanted to be left alone, to lead our lives. But still Clooney continued his rude interruption.

Intending to have some Christmas swag for pals, we printed up a limited edition Gawker T-shirt. But we don't have any friends. So, instead, we're selling them off. They're 100% cotton, made by American Apparel, and we made our interns print the designs by hand over Thanksgiving. Just kidding—actually, we got a referral from Kathie Lee Gifford for a great sweatshop.