Just received over the tipline:

In response to yesterday's post about the blonde helping a bank-bot give away $5 bills on Fifth Avenue, several readers sent in tips regarding said blonde's identity and history. She's Erin Jividen — aka EJ, not to be confused with the eponymous luncheonette — once described by the New York Daily News as an "aspiring pop tart." She seems to be all that and more, pursuing a Britneyesque path to fame via NYC club and promo appearances, plus an "off-Broadway" musical. Another reader familiar with her history notes that she used to date a gent by the name of "Laser," and "they had a group together called Disco Express, until too many people made fun of them for having the same name as Ed O'Neill's character's 70s group in The Adventures of Ford Fairlane." Certainly the unkindest cut of all. But what about that sexy robot? Thrilling first-hand account after the jump.

No idea who the blonde is — she's identified only as "singer E.J." — but she's instantly eclipsed by partner Mr. Millennia, a mascot-bot giving away $5 bills today to commemorate the opening of a new branch of Metbank. You must apparently answer a few questions put you by Mr. Millennia in order to get the five-spot, but he doesn't look all that tough, death-drone-wise. I'm sure you could crack him open like a walnut to get at the Abrahams inside, no questions asked, or answered. The last chance for the cash is at 4 p.m., at Fifth Avenue and 47th Street. Photos/video of E.J. making out with the bot welcome.

Taking a page from Ian Holm's ass-biting restaurant manager in classic foodflick Big Night, a boss at the Waldorf-Astoria's Peacock Alley dining room is accused of sexually harassing two of his married, male waitstaff — telling one he wanted to "eat his ass." That waiter also claims he had his "testicles and buttocks" grabbed, while the other says he got the hat-trick grope — "testicles, penis, and buttocks" — plus, the manager "'attempted to stick a bottle' between his buttocks." At least the bottle in question would have been a well-chosen vintage, as the accused manager is described as a "flawless host and sommelier."

FishbowlNY points out that Playboy editor Rocky Rakovic underwent a Balzacular waxing (foregoing the reputedly less painful "sugaring") to better understand what the ladies endure. The deed was done at the Madison Avenue branch of Shobha, which offers the "Full" treatment ("Grooming in the region that includes top, sides, and crack — but does not include the sac region") versus the "Brazilian" ("Everything below, or a customized version that includes the sac and crack areas"), for $50 and $70 respectively. More expensive than the female treatments of the same areas, but then, duh.

One would assume just from the blog's name that "Midtown Lunch" is entirely empty, like those blank-paged books entitled "German Humor." Yet the ML blogger makes a good-faith attempt to locate and even consume lunch in midtown Manhattan, whereas most midtown dwellers are content with their rations of soup, salad, and shit on a shingle. And even though the blogger cheerfully admits that midtown is a culinary wasteland, he nevertheless embarks on hellish excursions like "Falafel Week." Which is immediately followed by "Constipation Weekend."

This arrived in our inbox a bit ago:

A flummoxed reader emails:

This morning's Sun brought us the best news we've seen all day (with the caveat that we saw the Tom DeLay news yesterday):

The Times has a story today about Tishman Speyer's plans for the newspaper's 43rd Street headquarters after the newshounds pack up and move to their new tower around the corner next year. When it reopens in 2009, according to the report, there'll be office tenant in the upper floors, retail establishments in the truck bays from which, until 1997, newspapers left the building early each morning, and what sounds like a big-box retailer in the underground "soaring and now vacant pressroom." Does Arthur Sulzberger Jr. have any memories of the chaotic process of printing and distributing the paper each night from the heart of midtown? "I do," the publisher tells reporter David W. Dunlop. "But nothing you could print in the pages of a family newspaper."

Yesterday we pointed out a bizarrely stupid request from some lunatic proposing that people meet him on the corner of 42nd and 7th today at 12:30 for some good, clean sumo wrestling. We should've known that in a town where there's more fuckwits that there are cockroaches, someone would take this guy up on his offer.

The Times carries word today that an influential city business association is pushing the idea of charging vehicles to drive in midtown during the day as a way to cut down on traffic, help the environment, and speed trips for buses and other mass transit currently trying to fight their way through Rock Center gridlock.

Late last night, we were doing what we normally do after dark: Cruising the casual encounters section on Craigslist, looking for a tennis partner. What we found was so delightful, we simply had to share it with you. Alas, this morning, the page had been removed — good thing we took a screen cap last night, then.

Weekend at Bernie's 3: Back to NY

Dude, the Naked Cowboy must be pissed.

Ladies and Gays, start your libidos: The 2006 firefighters calendar goes on sale today, featuring 13 of New York's finest specimens. If the fire in your pants is completely intolerable, you can even go stalk the Calendar of Heroes' Beefy McBeefcakes in Times Square, where they'll be autographing your already-sticky copies from 11-3. All money raised by the calendar's sales go to the nonprofit FDNY Fire Safety Education Fund — which means, for once, your financial investment in spank material will go to a very good cause.

As New Yorkers (or, more likely, tourists) continue to ogle at Calvin Klein's Super Fantastic Live Billboard Adventure, a reader is reminded of an overheard conversation during last week's sample sale at Hollywould:

Click to enlarge.

• Calvin Klein's latest Times Square advertising adventure, in which models are bribed to live like peasants in exchange for clean needles, starts tomorrow at 7 a.m. Someone do send pics! [AdJab]
• Rupert Murdoch buys MySpace.com from $580 million. Which is only slightly more than he paid for his new Fifth Avenue triplex. [MarketWatch]
• Would the Jude Law infidelity story be any good if the nanny-mistress didn't keep a diary detailing sex on the pool table? We think not. [Mirror]
• Dude, you know you think Bobby Novak his the perfect DSLs. Get out and vote! [Gawker]
• The horror of an unsolicited Scientology attack on an unsuspecting mailbox. [mchruinoff]
• CNN's Lou Dobbs is interrupted by bullshit. What else is new? [Crooks and Liars]