Word on the street is that Ivanka Trump is engaged to be married to her on-again, off-again boyfriend and owner of The New York Observer, Jared Kushner. The first thought that popped into my head when I heard this news - which just so happens to be the same thought that springs forth every time I hear of Ivanka Trump - was, "Ivanka Trump is gorgeous. But her name is Ivanka. IVANKA. I'd rather be me."
This repetitive thought reminds me of a conversation I had with Brain the other day: We had just picked up some delicious goodness from Sonic and, after tasting the first bite of my Chicken Club Toaster sandwich, I fervently proclaimed that Sonic's number 6 combo meal, complete with tots and a strawberry-limeade-emphasis-on-the-strawberry, was quite possibly the best grouping offered at any fast food restaurant chain ever. To this, Brain replied, "You do realize that you say that every time you order and consume a Chicken Club Toaster from Sonic, right? Just to be funny, I thought about asking you if that was going to be the best fast food meal you've ever eaten right before you bit into it, but decided against it. Now I really wish I had." This stopped me in my tracks. I mean, I know I'm awesome, intriguing, and stunningly beautiful. But predictable? I had no idea.
Long story short, Ivanka is my celebrity version of Sonic's number 6 combo meal.
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