If the Mercury is your guide to entertainment and culture, then ace danger reporter Marjorie Skinner is the intrepid machete-wielder, slashing her way through the outback. With her triple-threat arsenal of cleverness, courage, and curves, this fearless fox has become every normal person's fantasy guide through the underbelly of Portland--not only going deep into places you'll never go... but going deeper.

When she appeared on the trashy reality dating show Elimidate for a story, she arrived sporting a special pair of vibrating underwear. When she helped coworker Katie Shimer write a feature on a group orgy at the deliciously seedy Ace of Hearts club, she plunged into the hot tub buck-naked (politely refusing multiple "finger-banging" offers). And who could forget the infamous kidnapping fiasco, in which Marjorie hired a total stranger to tie her up, blindfold her, and speed her away in the back of his car? Watch out, readers! This feisty feline's got balls! Rowr!

JUSTIN SANDERS: Do you find it sexy when I say "rowr"?

MARJORIE SKINNER: Um, no.

Oh. I just shouldn't even try to keep pace with you, should I?

Do whatever you want, just don't do it around me.

Hot. I love it when you overpower me. We've worked together a long time...

God, don't remind me.

Ha! Yes! Mmm. And all along I've been consistently impressed at how accurately your reporter persona mirrors your real-life persona.

People think I play it up for the paper. They come up to me in bars and say, "Pphf. You didn't really get kidnapped." My response is to break a beer bottle over the counter and carve out their entrails. Then, as they lay dying in a pool of their own blood and feces, I pull off my fishnet stockings and wrap them around their face, so they can smell my crotch as their soul descends to Hell.

God that turns me on.

Unless, of course, they're a hot chick. Then I force them to make out with me--though they're usually more than willing to comply.

When was the last time you had to smack a bitch down?

Some slut in Berbati's tried to come up and hit on my man. Instead I hit on her. With a pool stick.

So. You have a "man"?

Fuck yeah. You gotta have a man around. There's nothing better than coming home after a long day at the office, heading down to the dungeon, and dressing a good man up in chains or a leather gimp suit.

How does your man feel about your reputation as a "danger girl"?

I don't let him talk. He's only allowed to gesture that he needs food, drink, or to go to the bathroom.

Sounds like a dream come true. So what's your poison?

I've been surviving on salad and vodka for years.

You never, like, swallowed the blood of a sacrificial lamb or anything?

That is disgusting. What am I, some sort of sicko to you? Fuck you, Sanders. Stay out of my cubicle. You disgust me.

I was under the impression you would do anything for a story.

Not harm a defenseless animal. What do you take me for? Shitfucker.

I'm truly sorry. How about I make it up to you with a little drinky-poo after work... ?

How about I stomp your eyes out with my stiletto heels?

Damn, girl. You are SMOKIN'!