Thing(s)of the Day: My Last Name/The King of Pop

My darling roommate Lauren decided it would be funny to send me this, and I figure if you can't beat them, join them. Enjoy free smoothies till July 12, compliments of Jamba Juice and my ridiculous last name. As Lauren was kind enough to point out, at least this Bogo joke grants one free smoothies. Unlike this one, sent by less kind friends, which grants free Payless shoes...seriously, Payless? You might as well be free anyway. Its not my fault my last name happens to coincide with the term for "Buy One Get One (Free!)" But I'll be damned if I don't have at least five free Jamba Juices by this time in two weeks.

In other food-related news, I have discovered vegetarianism is not half bad with the veggie burger at brunch this weekend. I am fairly certain that I will change my mind about this come 4th of July weekend barbeques, where I will be eating Luna Bars out of my purse and looking moderately anorexic with a plate of condiments, lettuce, and chips while staring hungrily at all the deliciously grilled animals I am not allowed to eat. In more food related news, I have just acquired my first restaurant week reservation! Darling roommate Lauren, in addition to g-chatting me with mockeries of my fine Russian roots, has just informed that me, her, and a few other select humans will be dining at Jean Georges' Perry Street in several mouthwatering weeks. I can't wait until the reservations officially open (tomorrow!) as to snag a table at several more fine eateries. Suggestions from fellow fatasses/foodies always welcome.

In surprisingly non-food related news, am I the only one who doesn't buy this Michael Jackson shit? Farrah Fawcett makes perfect sense, the woman had been struggling with cancer for years. Ed McMahon, despite being one of the snuggliest TV personalities I have encountered, was just plain old. Billy Mays, who the hell are you? When I heard that you had died I wasn't sure if I should mourn a classmate never-known or some long lost Russian relative. Upon Googling (or, you know, Perez-Hilton-ing) you I learned you sold Oxi-Clean and various other obnoxious products. That makes you less of a celebrity than Whitney Port, who is so much non-celebrity that I have already seen her twice at/around DVF and have not even texted a friend to report the sighting. Now DVF herself would be quite the celebrity sighting--she's married to the chairman of my company (who aside from being a really fun and scandalous person to Google, also owns the largest yacht in the world! When can I play?). I have already had the chance to make small talk with him in the elevator, and can only hope she will one day stop by and the two will be wow-ed enough by my charm and business cas. to invite me on a sailing trip around the world...

Anyway. Michael Jackson. I'm not buying it. The man(?) may have been crazy, but he wasn't old and didn't have any reported physical health problems. This morning, The Sun reported that the King of Pop was in a horrific state when he died, weighing 112 pounds, with numerous injection wounds and a stomach empty of anything but prescription medication. Three hours later, TMZ is reporting that this autopsy was completely fake and contrived. And to top it all off, MJ's doctor is now claiming that he had a pulse when he was found, and was not DOA as previously reported. Point in case: I don't believe this shit. Something smells fishy around here, and I suspect when all is said and done quite the Law & Order episode could/will be written about MJ's suspicious passing. That being said, proper RIPs are in order. Thriller.