All this talk of nothingburgers lately, but none are to be found at Harlem Shake. Christina, Noor, and I had spent a few hours walking through parks uptown and sought refuge somewhere with a gluten-free bun. We were really hungry, and I could not think of a better place to rest than in cushy booths at a place in which every other song was by Tems. This place isn’t exceptional, but I don’t want it to be. The Harlem Classic burger is a cheeseburger with pickles, light onions (the perfect amount), and special sauce on a potato roll. It is more substantial than some smashburgers but still light enough to leave you wanting more from your meal, which is great because we shared jerk fries. They’re regular fries with jerk seasoning on top (and jerk mayo on the side). They’re so tasty, but I will admit that it was a little too spicy at times for my caucasian persuasion (would still order them again). The namesake Harlem Shake is a red velvet milkshake. Red velvet is kind of a scam, but I enjoyed sharing it anyway. The only con of the meal was accidentally walking into the bathroom when someone else was in it, screaming, and lingering too long because I needed to tell her that she forgot to lock the door. I stared into her eyes. Why was that my natural response?

I think Slayyyter is the most feminine woman in the world because of how cis and trans people alike often assume she is trans when she isn’t. I’ve been listening to her raw, in-your-face dance pop music since college when my roommates and I would blast “Daddy AF.” I’ve enjoyed the singles from WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA and was excited to get into the full album. I think the singles are most some of the loudest and most intense on the album, so it was nice to hear a lot of other songs that felt more subdued and background-y (complimentary) in comparison. They aren’t really subdued though; each song perverts itself and surprises you in how it progresses. The album is yet another set of musings from a beautiful woman commenting on fame as she chases after it. My favorite song was easily the repetitive, vengeful “$T. LOSER” that I’m ready to have in my earbuds as I walk down the sidewalk like it’s a runway. I liked the album, but I think I’m going to really like it the more I listen to it.

Have you seen this contestant for Miss Grand Thailand absolutely cutting a rug at the pageant while her competitors are lightly bopping? It’s all over my Twitter today and tickles me just like how Raygun the breakdancer did, but something about this woman slays way harder. I think it’s all about context and overall swag.

One of the many reasons I’m late writing to you today is because Meera and I decided to turn on the first episode of Love Overboard, a reality series that premiered last week on Hulu. I didn’t know anything about it going in, and I think you should be as blind to it as possible. If you like the singles-couples dynamics of Love Island, the cheekiness of FBoy Island, and/or the yacht workplace drama of Below Deck, you will love this show. Gabby Windey, a reality contestant I always root for, hosts. It had a nearly perfect pilot episode, and I can’t wait to watch more.

A story like “Is the Diva in Danger of Extinction?” from Harper’s Bazaar is a perfect example of the kind of story you want to read but ends up being a half-baked thought. The thesis is great: we don’t have pop divas like Diana Ross and Whitney Houston anymore because social media and fan culture have shifted what fame looks like. Writer Louis Staples dives into the history of divadom. Catching us up to present day, he postulates that Gaga might be our last real diva — but also maybe Ariana Grande (although I would not call her a diva) — and that Beyonce is the ultimate diva. I think all of this is great, but I just want more. Maybe this is more of a critique on the word count or the publication than the author. Staples talks about how the differences of fame today (celebs are more vulnerable, social media makes fanbases more evil) vs. the golden age of the diva make for fewer divas. However, I think he missed a great opportunity to talk about Chappell Roan, someone who possesses the diva-like qualities of setting boundaries and being unafraid to push back. Ultimately, I think a Black person should have written this article because I think diva sometimes has a racial undertone, as I hear it most often while discussing Black female pop stars and actresses. We don’t really have a lot of those currently, as most of the present’s Black female musicians are rappers or R&B singers. I think not including this angle in the story was a missed opportunity. I did, however, like how Staples talked about how we use diva a bunch more today as a term of endearment with our friends, an angle I probably would have forgotten to include. Thanks, diva.

I walked across the Williamsburg Bridge and decided to hang out at the park under the bridge around Corlears Hook. Sitting on a bench, I watched Ella Emhoff walk her dog. Is this the closest thing New Yorkers have to a JFK Jr. sighting in the 90s? I hope not. I guess it’s Jack Schlossberg, but I still hope that’s not it. Is it seeing Zohran or Rama? Maybe the closest we get is Curtis Sliwa.