So you've finally made it in the big time world of New York City blogging, and all the fame and fortune that are accorded to that profession's most celebrated members is starting to come your way: nubile young groupies, book deals, invitations to all the hippest parties, crazy e-mails from Andrew Krucoff threatening to ruin you, etc. But the sweetest plum of all is the clamor of big media as it seeks to harness your unfettered energy. That's right, you've been invited to the main event,

Gawker Stalker sightings can be sent to us here; if you put 'stalker' in the subject line, you'll get some sort of obscure karmic reward.

The mystery (or is it a "puzzle?") of yesterday's clouds of foul-smelling mercaptan (we learned a word!) hasn't yet been resolved, but everyone's been eager to point the finger at usual bad-smell scapegoat, the Garden State. The accusations have ranged in scale from subtle, i.e. the Times' whispered "Some suspicion fell on New Jersey," to the, uh, the not so subtle. We're left feeling sort of of bad for New Jersey, which hasn't at all been confirmed as the source of the odor. We're going to recommend that they go with the classic "he who smelt it dealt it" defense— it's been working for us since first grade.

Well, besides us and everyone else who matters. If you'll recall, back in the day (well, back in November), we linked to the Daily Intel's story about the "stylishly kitschy" hotspot's possible looming shutdown, which featured an especially adorable denial from owner Guy Jacobson: "I have a license to sell one drug; it's the one behind the bar." Today, however, a tipster alerted us to the fact that the bar, which was featured in yesterday's Styles 'Boite' column, was closed on Friday night, and that a coke bust was the rumored cause. Could a place whose denizens say things like ""I'm an enthusiast and I express myself sensually and I can barely hold myself in . . . I can tell that there's an element of the pulse, of neurotic, erotic perfection" really be a secret purveyor of high-grade snortables? We're scratching our heads and rubbing our noses spastically in confusion.

This morning, we solicited information about the mysterious gas smell blanketing parts of midtown, and we got tons of valuable information. Psych, we got a bunch of identical "Larry King farted" jokes. But we did get some fun reports on where, when, and how you first smelled the smell that currently surrounds you. The most vaguely informative ones are after the jump.

If you're in any of the parts of Manhattan that are reportedly currently smelling like a gas leak, we want to know about it. Can you smell it from inside your office building? Does it worry you that Con Edison is like, "no [immediate] comment" ? Let us know, please.

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We promise not to make a regular feature out of this, but some days it's going to be impossible to resist: Today's Post piece on a suit filed by service employees against Equinox Gym just cries out for the rewrite treatment. The Post's version:

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We've heard this from a number of tipsters, so we'll put it out there:

A distressing report from this morning's AM New York, which you probably read during the interminable wait for your train, revealed one of the possible reasons for the interminable wait for your train: chicks on diets.

So remember how, at the beginning of the summer, the Department of Homeland Security slashed New York City's terror funding by 40%? Well, it turns out that it was all a big mistake. DHS Head/Gollum Impersonator Michael Chertoff told a grant-writing conference that "We've come to the conclusion that perhaps there was a little too much bean counting and a little less standing back and applying common sense to look at the total picture." The Post reports that, going forward, the DHS will take a more reasonable approach to doling out cash, although that "won't bring back funds that have already been squandered fortifying Omaha and other Corn Belt cow towns." We're not sure what caused the change of heart on the agency's part (maybe it had something to do with the giant electoral walloping delivered to Chertoff's party in the recent elections, but who can say?), but we're thrilled that future monies will be allocated to better protecting our city's security: We've only got so many struggling indie actresses left.

If you ride the N, your trip will eventually be more aesthetically pleasing (or less, depending on your tastes). The Sun reports that:

The Daily Politcs' Ben Smith takes note of a UCLA study on the residential locations of gays and lesbians in the United States: shockingly, New York City doesn't even make the top ten. (Ben theorizes that this is because of immigrants; maybe that Brooklyn judge was on to something after all.) And while certain pockets of Manhattan may still do okay on the gayometer, we can't help but be a little concerned: What with North Carolina billionaires offering economic plans based on draining us of all that glitters, we may be reaching a critical moment in this city's history: Deprive us of our gays and all we'll have left is Chipotles, Starbucks, and straight Jews. And nobody wants that. Any ideas how we can make sure they don't take our sunshines away?

Why waste your money on ramen and broth when you can gorge yourselves at some of the city's finest trans-fat providers without fear of ill effects? If the City Council has its way, your bloated, overstuffed meatsack will be couriered to a coronary facility in new plus size ambulances. It's an idea advocated for by Mark Rosenthal, the 420-pount stroke victim who had to "lie strapped on an ambulance floor, because the stretcher couldn't fit him." The Fire Department seems wary, arguing that they're already equipped with stretchers that can convey all but the plumpest of fatties; we're going to say that if you've spent any time in Herald Square recently, you'll realize that the purchase of these tubby transporters is probably inevitable.

Mayor Bloomberg, overheard at a Brooklyn event yesterday: "If I played golf as well as I run the city, I'd be on the PGA tour."

With every war, there is collateral damage, and then there is wartime propaganda. In today's wonderfully alliterative editorial, New York Post comes out swinging against AM New York and Metro, pointing its fingers squarely at the free dailies for tragedies that may or may not occur sometime in the future. Because they are a major -not the only, or even the most significant- cause of subway floods and fires.

How awesome is this story?

• If you watched Katie Couric on Monday night you're in a pretty exclusive club. [Drudge Report]
• The publisher and editor of the Toronto Star have resigned. [NYT]
• There's a new head at Metro. [FBNY]
• The F.C.C. makes Sumner Redstone crap his Depends. [B&C]
• Louise MacBain sounds like a real pleasure to work for. [WWD]