According to blogs, Sarah Palin and Todd Palin are getting divorced. But according to Sarah Palin, that is "made up." Whether she means "made up" like reports that the Alaska Independence Party supports secession were "made up" (i.e. "completely true") is unknown.

In a brief telephone interview on Tuesday night, Palin quipped that she loves finding out "what's goin' on in my life from the news."

"Do you want to talk to Todd?" she teased. "He's sitting right next to me." But he didn't come on the line.

Hmm, suspicious! Anyway, the internet odds makers say Sarah and Todd are through. But we won't be convinced until the Enquirer weighs in.

In more important breaking news: Sarah Palin ate at Michael's! Gosh, she sure does hate that lying liberal media, doesn't she? Always with the false gossip and internet rumors, also? Always not staying away from her kids? She hates the east coast elite MSM so much she dined at Michael's (the one time we went there we saw Katie Couric!) while in town to talk about her million-dollar book deal.

Though he deems it "satisfactory," Bruni points out Michael's most obvious flaw: it charges outrageous prices to people who want to see and be seen, so who cares about the food? I'll tell you who: Frank Bruni.

The shrimp were entombed in a dense, soggy beer batter and interred in an almost monochromatic landscape of goat cheese, puddles of dark miso aioli and shavings of summer truffle that might have been shavings of summer rubber for all the flavor they had.

California cuisine? More like gloppy, affected pub grub, for which Michael’s charges $25

Zing! You could have had a corner seat, Frank, but now forget it. How about the obligatory media-food tie-in?

Across a series of visits I had some enjoyable food, notably the renowned Cobb salad, less a salad than an entire ecosystem, vast and verdant, with enough avocado to feed three I.C.M. agents or five Vogue editors.

Gracious. Now back to the main point:

And shouldn’t a diner paying $38 for sea scallops get more than two, situated at opposite ends of a long hillock of sautéed snow pea leaves?

Also keep in mind Michael's is hated by its own waiters, and its sommelier gave Bruni a bum recommendation on Chardonnay. On the upside, you are guaranteed to meet Laurel Touby there.

[NYT; pic via Radar]

So we’ve stopped the service contract, stopped the maintenance. We’ve actually disconnected about half of the equipment on the eighth floor. We have surplus air conditioning. While that may not be material, it represents the kind of opportunity that exists here. We’re busy changing the culture to save money.” In other words, people don’t kill newspapers. Machines kill newspapers. But not quite. People are to be blamed as well, Michaels suggested in the same breath, especially congregations of them: “I realized that in the first few months here, I was always busy, but not getting a lot done … Twelve people would show up in the office. We had a culture of meetings. I’m sure they were informative and helpful. Everyone could stay busy going to meetings. We’re actively campaigning against meetings if something could be handled by a conversation in the hall or a quick email. We’re having a lot fewer meetings and getting more done.”

Love to constantly be criticized, yelled at and/or grilled?
Want to work for a douchey GM with an undeserved sense of
entitlement, who wears a Prince Valiant haircut accessorized with
a treble-clef earring (s**t you not) and takes out his inner
rage over not realizing his own dreams on his waiters by
constantly yelling/cursing at them and generally treating them
like senseless half-wits? Here at Michael's, we can promise
you 7 solid shifts a week and then give you 2.

Armed with a
20 table section a shift...you can haphazardly sharpen your
skills by waiting on some of the most high-maintenance clientele
in NYC!!! We ask that you call in everyday before your shift
so we can tell you whether you're working or not...

Plus, you get to do all of this
while looking like a complete tool in your time-warp pink Polo
shirt, diagonal-striped tie and white apron!! Tre-chic! Only
true gluttons for punishment need apply...

From a reply post:

No shit! I trained at this fucking hellhole two years ago and
the memory is still very sharp indeed...

All of the employees seemed overworked
and bitter. And a majority of the clientele thinks that their
shit does not stink and that ther are infallible.

[Shameless Restaurants]

Have you ever had anybody leave and not come back? Oh, just one, [former New York magazine columnist, current Vanity Fair writer] Michael Wolff. Remember the writer Michael Wolff?

Uh. Barely. [Laughs.]
One time, he called extremely late, and his table was already sat, because he was at frequently at table five. Loreal said, "I'm awfully sorry, you're table is already sat, but I can give you another table. And he said that that was it, and he never came back.

I don't understand what you're saying. His table was sat?
Sat, in other words, there were already people on it. It already had people there ...

Well, that's ridiculous.
But of course it is! After he stormed off, he started calling on the phone, demanding to know who decided that he should be evicted from his regular table. He kept on screaming, "Tell me who did this. I want names." It was a little sad, really.

Above that, her intimidatingly blond hair kept watch over the restaurant: A landscape of leisurely publishing types whose underlings would be at work late into the summer night. She was talking to some reporter who was recording her answer on a black iPod, about her altercation with Rosie. "It's just so hard to process," she said. "But, these days, it's par for the course. I mean, it's an emotional time." Nearby, HuffPo gal Rachel Sklar was just sitting down, her plunging neckline catching the eyes of not a few old men. She was waiting for Vanity Fair's David Friend.

Nearby a camera crew tailed Kate White, the author of a book that claims the dubious distinction as being the only one we know of that's derivative of a Reese Witherspoon movie. She clucked about, gathering her brood of old white blond ladies. But when the business end of a camera almost took her out, she swiftly booted the crew from the restaurant. The assembled broads made their way to a circular table, completely off limits to the few media members who had decided to stick around after it became apparent "Join Us For a Pre-Publishing Luncheon" meant "Watch Us Eat Lunch While You Wait Around Awkwardly." Kim Cattrall was at the table looking really really old. Scarily, Carolyn Kepcher was the most attractive woman at the table. Copies of Lethally Blond were perched on the sill.

Well, I thought. I'm kind of in publishing. If I can't eat with these bubbes at least I can sit at the bar and eat lunch. My, how wrong I was. Despite the bar being completely empty, each seat had an annoying placard that declared it reserved. And so, back I pushed open the glass doors, plunging into the sweltering heat and leaving behind a circle of old white ladies who are neither mysterious, lethal or blond.

Trust me, this is an overrated, blatantly abusive and toxic enviornment.... [sic] [P]rior to each shift there is this demeaning and cruel pre shift where the GM who thinks that he's god's gift to restaurants unnecessarily grills you and makes you feel like you are a piece of shit. The ambiance reminded me of an intense, grueling audition. The money is nothing to brag about either. For all the work and abuse, you are better off working at a diner... When I was there, the entire staff seemed overworked, underappreciated and scared like little, beaten children.

Michael's [Shameless Restaurants]

• The Post has never heard of Whitewater. [NYP]
  
• Rodale, Hachette get into the video game. [AdAge]
  
• What's going to happen if Tribune rejects Sam Zell's offer? A lengthy continuation of this fucking story, no doubt. [NYT]
  
• Sumner Redstone hates YouTube. Or does he? [LAT]

• Les Moonves: always wanting more. [NYP]
  
• Newsweek's main competition isn't Time, it's everyone online. It's also Death, who is slowly but surely culling everyone who still reads Newsweek. [Marketwatch]
  
• Jeffrey M. Johnson, the former Los Angeles Times publisher who went native and got canned, has joined Ron Burkle's investment firm, which may or may not (but probably does!) have some money in Radar. [LAT]
  
• One more reason not to go to Cobb salad hellhole Michael's: Michael Wolff is returning to the restaurant despite an earlier promise never to so do. Wow, and the guy is usually so good about keeping his word. [NYP]
  
• Producer Brian Grazer gets a gig with the LAT; Nikki Finke, shockingly, is not amused. [DHD]
  
• The good news for Louise T. MacBain is that Portfolio's not going to run a hit piece on her. Yet. Repeating, that's the good news. [NYP]
  
• Chuck Klosterman finally encounters someone more irritating than he is. [Independent]

There were, however, no media celebrities present. Alas.

"If the activity of our clients is reported with discretion, and as long as it doesn't affect anyone's dining experience, Michael and I will turn a blind eye," [general manager Steve] Millington says. "The second we get complaints about it, we'll call it a day."

The unwritten ground rules are that Touby is not allowed to embarrass any patrons — no mistress sightings, no bad-outfit alerts, no hissy-fit reports. She's also not allowed to wander around the room, notebook in hand, taking down names, which she did for a while.

What, you mean people don't like to be accosted for their names while spending $100-plus on lunch for two? Who'd have thunk it.

Table d'Hot [WP]

Restaurateur of the Michael's restaurants in New York and Santa Monica Michael McCarty's MICHAEL'S COOKBOOK, recipes from the restaurants and anecdotes about entertaining powerful patrons, to Karen Murgolo at Bulfinch, by Robert Barnett at Williams & Connolly (world).

But we're also confused. Sure, there's "buy lettuce, make salad, charge $30." But then what's on page 2?

Michael's [MichaelsNewYork.com]