Pinkberry

I’ve had the Pinkberry Lady Tigra Remix in my head all afternoon.

That’s because I’m applying to be a blogger for a travel website that promotes New York City attractions and I have to submit a sample post. I didn’t want to pick something too cliche, like The Empire State Building. Nor did I want to go the morose route of writing about Grant’s tomb (although you can’t beat An Attraction to Take For Granted! as a title). So I chose Pinkberry.

The song is super catchy, even if it is a bit difficult to sing along to without falling behind during the PIN-KBE-RRY refrain. (0:31) My Junior Year of High School, when I played Aunt Eller, I couldn’t spell Oklahoma, either. O-K-L-O-M-H-A!

Pinkberry is only available in New York City and California. That, coupled with long lines, helps qualify it as an Attraction. There are currently 13 locations in Manhattan. Mayan legend has it that 13 crystal skulls will one day unite and save humanity from a horrible catastrophe. Now I’m fairly certain these “skulls” are Pinkberry stores (Mayan is so easily mistranslated) where the delicious dispensed goodness is crystalline cold and quite possibly our only means of averting nuclear war.

Pinkberry, as a verb, means to wait. First you pinkberry on the curb next to stinky Soho trash, and then you pinkberry indoors on a faux-pebble floor, slowly filing past adorable but unnecessary kitchen kitsch by Italian designer Alessi: an egg-cup in the shape of a blue alien, for example. But all this pinkberrying has an air of urban hipness. It’s like the L train, only pastel, and with $500 Philippe Starck Victoria Ghost chairs.

Sure, I think the name Pinkberry sounds like an alternate ending for Citizen Cane , but I love the tart, natural taste of its three fro-yo flavors (Green Tea, Coffee, and Original) and the huge selection of fresh fruit toppings. Also, with 13 locations, you’re guaranteed not to be in this line:

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