We hate when the Times plays coy by not printing swear words, such as they did in this weekend's "Styles" article about Diablo Cody, which informs us that the coterie of female screenwriters she pals around with all "wear the same gold necklaces with tiny heart pendants inscribed with words that can’t be printed here, gifts from Ms. Cody." Honestly. All this does is cause a stream of possible obscenities to enter our head, which is, when you think about it, so much worse than if they just printed the one word. If there's anyone out there who can put an end to our case of mental Tourette's by letting us know what these infernal necklaces say, e-mail us: intel@nymag.com.

Update: Ok, we found out. They say, "Fuck My Face." That is awesome.

An Entourage of Their Own [NYT]