Two Engadget editors had it out over some kind of sex-gender thing; Ayelet Waldman failed to fail to book a hotel room; and Fleetwood Mac shocked Leon Neyfakh. The Twitterati left their affairs out of order.

Publishers release "advance reader copies" or "galleys" of books for the New York Literary Elite to have before the masses and Oprah ruin them for you. Being spotted with some merits certain kinds of "status"...that we're about to ruin.

"I'm going to try to never write about you," I whispered to the boy whose shoulder my head was on two nights ago. Oops. Emily Gould has made a writing career of her personal life and built a personal life around her writing career, exposing her relationships on a personal site and on Gawker when she was a writer on this site. Now, in a cover story for this coming weekend's New York Times Magazine, she does an accounting. "What I gained-and lost-by revealing my intimate life on the web," goes the cover line-over a sultry photograph of the author sprawled across a bed, a laptop power cord suggestively looping towards her tattooed arm.

Semi-fabulist Scott Beauchamp's wife, Elspeth Reeve, who was so fired a couple of months back by The New Republic , is quite the talker! She doesn't hold much back in an interview today with the Observer in which she discusses fact-checking her husband's dispatches from Iraq, both before and after they were married. Is it really possibly that, despite having gone to journalism schook, Reeve still doesn't quite understand how this whole 'reporting' thing works? FYI, it's something along the lines of 'when the pencil/digital recorder moves, your words are being captured for posterity!'