So This Is Christmas...

Ok my loves, it's Christmas Eve...I know, I should be wrapping and baking and primping and caroling and popping corks and tying up loose ends...well, no worries -- I am! And I still have time to rattle on to all of you...You know, I am a great multi-tasker, and the (undiagnosed) 

ADD allows me to juggle lots of endeavors, projects and relationships at once (sometimes not quite so well, but still...). So, I couldn't let this day pass without a little check in with all of you...

Wait, just an aside before I get started..my older two just walked into the living room holding plastic cups filled with that dirty, 5-day-old melting snow, spoons perched ready to crack into it like they were set to enjoy these delicious organic snow cones...Of course, I lost my sh*t and practically flew across the room like the vampires from Twilight (a must-see...) to knock it from their hands...and we are only one day into their 12 day-long break from school. My friends, I am thinking I might need to partake in some midday cocktailing or some other kind of selfish, fun diversion, so please, call here if you are planning a secret escape at any point in the next two weeks...

Ok, back to Christmas Greetings....I feel a little like a zombie robot (Katie Holmes?) this season, going through the motions -- shopping, cocktailing, cooking, baking, eating...ugh, the eating...You all know about the Cookies & Cocktails bash a few weeks ago (oh, the debauchery...will need an entire post to recount...just covering Latzy's quips alone will take a week...)...and on the night of the big blizzard or whatever it was, we had another cookie exchange with our motley crew of suburban gourmands. And did the snow stop a bunch of hungry broads? No way! Suse and I fully planned on walking over to Kate's house, twelve dozen cookies, hot from the oven appetizers and wine in hand (fondue pot was off-duty that night...even we aren't insane enough to carry appliances across town in the snow....) when Jen came to the rescue and we skidded all the way there in her little sedan. But, damn the snow, we got to pound those cookies for three hours straight, all washed down with Kahlua-spiked hot chocolate (kind of barfalicious now that I think about it)....which all makes for some problems with holiday fashion choices. The next night was Ann's annual Open House (such fun) and upon arrival I discovered that it was not only me who was conscious of my developing cookie bloat...Nancy confessed that she had eaten cookies for breakfast everyday for two weeks and was also forced to wear her Plan B outfit that night...I think I had on Plan C....and Suse "went green" recycling an outfit from church ladies party earlier in the week...

Ok, so anyway, where was I? (Hey, look, I told you about the ADD...)..So this all made me think that this season can be a killer, especially for those of us with Santa-believing little children and needy relatives to visit far and wide...and why do we do it all? Because it's tradition...which is so important, really...we are blessed to have these annual reminders of how truly special, and necessary our traditions are...For some of us it is the one yearly nod back to our grandparents and those we love who have moved on...maybe it's going to midnight Mass, or baking great-Aunt Helen's caramel-pecan pound cake, or weeping profusely through the entire second half of Love Actually (my own secret tradition...), or hanging up all the Christmas photo cards for all your guests to see, or chowing on cinnamon buns during the morning gift exchange, or, with the crazy Ritt-family, going down the stairs to open gifts in height order...So it is like we are saying to those that we miss: "You are here with us still." And we will (and do) go out of our way to make sure these moments happen every year...to make sure we build memories for our children and families and those that we love. And even though we are stressed and overwhelmed and just mindlessly running around, trying to remember that last envelope of cash we need to dole out...in the end, the pay-off, being surrounded by love, is well worth the maddness....

So Happy Christmas, my friends....I will be thinking of all of you...

xo, S

Photo 1: The Anderson Christmas tree, '07....we killed it within days and had to go out and get a second one...RIP

Photo 2: Some non-toxic snow cones....apparently unappealing to my little boos...

Photo 3: Some anonymous Wyckoff MILFs who claim they want their privacy protected...no such thing as "off the record," ladies....

Photo 4: Ugh...gooey sweet M&M-laden Christmas cookies...as decorated by Anderson offspring...

Photo 5: Last Christmas....my angels and truest of loves...best gifts ever!

Coatcheck Hussy? The Confession...

Ok, ok, ok...I never made out with Rocco DiSpirito....I know, disappointing, right? On many levels (he's luscious...admit it...). I was kind of surprised at your interest in the validity of my revelations last week -- an inordinate amount of you emailed me privately and Facebooked me...I had moms pulling me aside at pick up, and a few old friends calling...even my husband, who knew the true story, began questioning again...and everyone had the same inquiry: Is the Rocco makeout session the lie? Because if not I definitely need to hear that story. So, yes, I did have dinner with Billy Squier (Stroke Me!)...and yes, there were two bodyguards living with my family for a month during my senior year in high school (good times!)....But, sorry, there were in fact no kissing bandits in the coatcheck...you know, because I would never do that (as far as you know)...and anyway, well-mannered ladies don't kiss and tell, do we? But.........

....don't despair....there is a story behind that fun little tidbit. It was back in 1998, before Rocco was this Dancing With The Stars buffoon and glory-hogging reality show freak. Back then he was a young superstar chef in New York City, lauded far and wide as the second coming...Rocco's restaurant, Union Pacific, had just received a three-star review from Ruth Reichl in the New York Times. I was a fresh-faced pixie with my tasteful cashmere sweater sets and pristine Gucci loafers (gag me...), newly married, all pleased with myself and uptight. Kratz & Company, the late, great funky cool fabulous PR agency for which I was then working not only represented Union Pacific, but a slew of other top chefs and restaurants and food brands (so now you get my food porn addiction and chef groupie status....). And this was in the restaurant heyday of the late '90's...the cultural resurgence of "the restaurant as destination"...and Food Network was in its infancy, making celebs of Bobby Flay and Mario Batali and even had a talk show all about food hosted by Bill Boggs and Donna Hanover (WTF??? really...who made an appointment to watch her?). And Kratz & Company, particularly the engaging yet megalomaniacal David Kratz himself, who represented pretty much every last fine chef in town, was integral to that moment in history.

So...back to me and Rocco...we were at a book launch party, that much is true....Alfred Portale of Gotham Bar and Grill had just written his first cookbook (ghost-written by my co-worker at the time) and all the little Kratzlings (yes, David did refer to his staff as "Kratzlings"...again, gag me...) were invited and pretty much required to attend the launch at Gotham...The room was stacked with the top food journalists, movers and shakers, chef talent and big time restauranteurs: Michael Romano, Danny Meyer, Tom Colicchio, Pino Luongo, Charlie Palmer...even the 90's food god himself, David Bouley, made an appearance, which was like being in the room with some elusive genius, the Elvis of cookery.....it was a foodie nirvana. Rocco, though, had yet to be seen. My "bread" client, Ecce Panis, was there, so my boss, this brilliant yet miserable, funky-glasses-wearing barracuda was on my a** to introduce Bread Client to every journalist and chef in the joint...you know, bat my eyes and whore out the virtues of artisanal bread in one's bread basket while these superstars were pounding champagne. And so I did...smiling, whoring...laughing, drinking...and drinking some more...sidling up to the chefs, making sure they shook the Bread Client's hand. And I remember at the time all of my friends and family thinking it was so cool that I got to rub elbows with these boldface-named New Yorkers...and I suppose it would have been, had it not also been my job...and when it comes down to it, wouldn't most of us rather enjoy a fun cocktail party with our BFF/sister/spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/side-slice than be giggling at the jokes of some vertically challenged Bread Client? But I digress....

Eventually Bread Client had met all the players, and had talked a few into taking his card...then (thankfully) decided he'd had enough and was on his merry way. So I hung for a little while with my friend Chuck who cracked me up making hilarious, snide comments about everyone in the room under his breath, smiling the whole time (cannot recall where my Kratz BFF, Jim, was at the time...Dallas? Phoenix? off to Cairns??). But eventually I was pretty much over the whole scene and decided to make my own exit. Chuck had to hang back and pander to Pino, so I bid him adieu and made my way towards the coatcheck through the sea of folks clamoring around Alfred, congratulating him...all that jazz. And it took me quite a few minutes of navigating the masses...it was sort of like white water rafting. I am a short little thing, so I was pushed back and forth, elbowed along my way, nearing the end...when all of a sudden, this tall gentleman appeared next to me, put his arm about my shoulder and escorted me through until we were free, next to the coatcheck and face to face with the Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss...tall gentleman's arm still circling my shoulder.

My boss seemed stunned briefly but regained her composure and greeted the tall gentleman reverently. And then she turned to me and said: "Suzanne, I see you've met Rocco." And I was still sort of clueless as he and I turned to face each other, my neck tilted all the way back so that I could look up to his face...and there he was, Rocco DiSpirito, smiling down at me, taking my hands and holding them in his...leaning in for a Euro-style "kiss kiss"...saying hello and calling me by name. And I guess I thanked him for helping me navigate the crowd and he never let go of my hands. I heard Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss tell Rocco that I worked at the agency, listing my accounts -- Campari, Romana Sambuca, Ecce Panis, yada yada yada...And, still holding my hands he leans down, inches from my face, hypnotizes me with this steady gaze that I still remember vividly to this day and says:

"Well then, Suzanne, you and I should become friends...you will have to come see me at the restaurant. I would love to have you as my guest."

Ok...for you non-foodies, I am sure you think this entire story is so ridiculous and inane and like, "who the ef really cares, the dude is a cook"....But for those of us who know what Rocco was at that time, and also how captivating he actually is in person (and we all know what a sucker I am for a charismatic rogue...), it was like Big Papi or Eli Manning or Tom Cruise (ick) or, I don't know, Dolly Parton, personally inviting you to be his/her guest at the World Series or Super Bowl or the Oscars or, I don't know, Dollywood...Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss, who normally was an angry, jealous old bird, was visibly impressed and almost gleeful. So, I think I said something like: "Really?" and he said: "Of course, I would love to cook for you" and I said: "Well, that would be amazing." And Rocco said something like: "Well, I will look forward to seeing you there then. Call me at the restaurant." He squeezed my hands, gave me a second Euro "kiss kiss" and then he grabbed his coat and was off.

So honestly, despite the little brush with greatness and obvious envy of Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss, I was a kind of uneasy...the whole interaction felt sort of...naughty, I guess. This little benign invitation for dinner confused me to no end and I wanted it to be a secret. You know, I was a young married then, still so naive about life and idealistic about the future...but I knew damn well that invitation was for me and me alone, no husband or friends included. So I walked home that night and got into bed...Rob asked how the event was and I told him I met Rocco DiSpirito by the coatcheck...and that was all I said.

The next morning in the Kratz kitchen (Chuckaccinos on ice...), Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss tells the story to a few of our co-workers who had congregated and everyone is sort of staring at me, certainly wondering what I must have done to warrant said invitation from Rock Star Rocco. And frankly, I had no answer for them...we met and then he invited me to dine at his restaurant...simple as that. But everyone was so impressed, so I started to feel like a zoo animal and a pit began to form in my stomach. I asked Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss if she thought Rocco's invitation was actually sincere and she assured me that she had no doubt, but that I needed to act fast and get myself to Union Pacific as soon as possible...and my co-workers all agreed that I should call the restaurant that day and plan my visit. Ugh...the pit in my stomach got bigger and bigger...I just couldn't help but feel like Rocco probably forgot the whole incident two seconds later and his staff would hang up as soon as I called. So that afternoon at lunch I stopped by the now closed Alva over on 22nd Street, run by Aaron Bashy, an Executive Chef who actually was my friend...he knew Rocco, their restaurants were doors apart...and I told him the story. He agreed with Funky-Glasses-Wearing Barracuda Boss...he said that if a chef tells you to join him as a guest at his restaurant, then you should jump on the invitation, because it is likely another one will never come. Well that made sense...

But....I ignored everyone's advice....I never called...in fact, I never set foot in Union Pacific ever again. I know, what a loser, right? Ugh...I don't know, I just felt sort of stupid calling and telling some hostess that I in fact met Rocco and he in fact did tell me to come see him at the restaurant...I mean, please, it was bizarre and surreal and...I still get all freaked out even imagining making that call. I suppose it would have been nice, sampling Rocco's specialties, making nice with him and maybe actually becoming friends as he had said...who wouldn't want to be friends with the shining star of the New York City culinary scene? Instead I decided that I would rather preserve that little moment we had at the coatcheck and that way I would at least have that to go back to...a fun little memory. Sure, there were times when I thought that I made a mistake by never calling the restaurant....but that was until.....

Flash forward to 2003 and Rocco is the star of this reality TV experiment entitled The Restaurant, which was supposedly documenting his experience opening a family style Italian restaurant on 22nd Street (in a space that encompassed the old Alva, ironically) called, what else, Rocco's. By that point I was a mother of three children, firmly ensconced in the suburbs, in a comfy job at Weight Watchers and a happy little life. But I couldn't wait to watch my old "friend"...you know, I thought he sacraficed some of his street cred agreeing to do the show, but I was totally rooting for him...

And then, there it was, like the Cher from Moonstruck "snap out of it" slap across the face...captured on film in the very first 10 minutes of the very first episode of this new reality docu-drama...out there for the world to see -- Rocco f**king DiSpirito used the locked-gaze-hand-holding-sincere-"let's be friends" bullsh*t on every single b*tch who walked into the joint! Oh and make no mistake, his little move wasn't reserved for anyone special...he was doling out his charming stare downs to anything in a skirt...and frankly, I think he was using his charismatic sorcery on the dudes too. My husband goes "he's such a d*uche" and I busted out laughing, incredulous at my own utter stupidity...of course this guy was a complete man-whore...of course his little come hither lines and invitations were just a side effect of his inability to control his desire to be loved by everyone...a typical chef to the core, apparently all Rocco wanted was to make people happy...And of course, my friends, that little naive, idealistic Suz with her tasteful cashmere sweater sets and pristine Gucci loafers fell for it hook, line and sinker...again, gag me. 

So nearly six years after our chance meeting at the coatcheck, all I could think was:

Thank GOD I never called the restaurant!!!

Image 1: Standard signage at all coatchecks...well, shouldn't it be?...yeah, maybe not...

Photo 2: My "friend" Rocco actually cooking something...hasn't done that in years...

Photo 3: My everyday shoe of choice circa '97...oh how I rocked those timeless ivory patent leathers...

Photo 4: Alfred (in navy) and his star chef posse...you know they all hate each others' guts...

Photo 5: There I am sporting my serious grown up hair and chic little city girl outfit....at a real party, no clients allowed, with my BFF, Allison...

Photo 6: That's me in 1997...fake smile, whoring around some event, winking, smiling and pushing some foodie product on some randy yet unsuspecting restaurant reviewer...

Photo 7: The "Rocco" of cheesy country music drag queen icons...seriously, how does she stand up straight?

Photo 8: We as young marrieds...not yet quite so jaded...

Photo 9: There's Funky-Glasses-Wearing-Barracuda Boss attempting to bully me into calling Rocco on her retro cell phone...the scowl permanently etched on her face...

Photo 10: Years later, kids all around, the coatcheck meeting is a distant memory...

Photo 11: Ugh...there he is spreading it around like some little rabbit dressed in a chef coat...the cad...but, you know, he is still kind of cute, no?

Secrets & Lies: Holiday Edition...

So the season is in full swing and though it's mid-December, as I promised would be the case back on Halloween, I have yet to take seriously the organizing, decorating, shopping, ordering, wrapping...because really, is it all about the gifts? Well, yes, I suppose it is considering I have three kids who each still fully believe that it is indeed Santa Claus who made that Wii and all its acoutrements appear...and that more is on the way in 14 days and counting...And I'll admit it, I kind of enjoy getting a gift or two myself...something sparkly and precious is always nice (what recession?)....or, you know, I'll take some Barry 

Manilow tickets or something (I mean, who can resist the powers of Manilow??...). But I digress...forget the gifts...we all know that the gifts are not what the season is truly about. It is sharing great times with the people we love and cherish...and hell, even the ones we just kind of like...That's right friends, again, no surprise here -- for me the season is all about the socializing.... 

So, you know I have been recounting my goings-on over the weeks since Thanksgiving (Halloween??) and of course the last few days brought some more holiday fun and festivity....I hit two big parties last week, which were at opposite ends of the spectrum in style (adult teenagers at collegiate pub-centric boozeathon and family-friendly pigs-in-blankets annual country club fest, respectively...my bipolar life...). And there was the town tree-lighting...masses of children, hot chocolate...Santa and Mrs. Claus...Gwen and I freezing our a**es off while the kids rolled down the hill. Then on Sunday, Sam, Amber, Nancy and I took our girls to Lincoln Center to see a performance of The Nutcracker...but first we had to hit Cafe Luxembourg for brunch and extra spicy Bloody Marys...we had such fun obliviously whispering to one another while the little girls harassed the waiters for more hot chocolate.

But...the best is yet to come...this Friday is Amber's annual all-girls "Cookies & Cocktails" bash. This gathering is a tradition (in fact, I checked with Amber back in September to secure the date....) and while the object of the evening is to gather among friends for a little innocent cookie and tacky tree ornament exchange (this is what Suburban MILFs do...), it always ends up being the absolute latest night of the year...3, 4 o'clock in the morning we are still on Amber's sofa, keeping her husband awake with our debaucherous tales and loud guffawing, mainlining dirty martinis and scarfing some cream-cheesy-shrimpy-cocktail saucy mess, cherry pepper-stuffed charcuterie and hot melty sausage-y Frito-laden appetizers. Oh man, you guys have no idea the disgusting-ness we women can get to when we are left all alone...the only thing missing is Suse's fondue pot. And the planning and preparation for this event among we ladies takes on a ridiculosness that is akin to planning a wedding...and has my husband rolling his eyes incessantly as I pepper him week-long with requests and inquisitions -- Should I wear the four-inch patent leathers or my chocolate brown boots?....Little black skirt or $200 jeans?....Should I make the Russian Tea Cakes or the Pecan Tassies this year?...Get yourself and the kids out of my face -- I'll be baking round-the-clock until Friday....Ah yes, good times....And make no mistake, if I were missing a limb (which is practically the case this year as on Tuesday night I clumsily slashed deep gashes into two fingers while making dinner...) I would not miss the party...no one would. Case in point: Last year Amber had bronchitis and a double ear infection and still hosted 30 women into the wee morning hours. Now that is commitment! Or maybe it is insanity...apples and oranges, really...And while it is always fun to hang with the girls, what truly makes "Cookies & Cocktails" the most special event of the season are Amber's signature "Secrets & Lies" party games. Yes, yes...a revealing year-end look into the minds and hearts of your friends and neighbors....Making you nervous yet, guys??

So, it works like this: Pre-party, Amber collects three truths and one lie from each party guest, then at the party the entries are read one-by-one and we individually vote on what we think is the true statement. The one that tricks the most guests is the winner...Amber gives out little prizes, but the true rewards are the stunning revelations and the competition to pull one over on your friends. Some of the ladies' truths or lies over the years have been things like: "I won a bikini contest on LBI" or "I shook hands with Sir Paul McCartney" or "I would leave my husband for Justin Timberlake" (and his "blank" in a box??...."One: you cut a hole in the box"...priceless)....But those are the tame ones....what about this: "In college I spent one whole night making out with a girl" or "When I started dating my husband he was married and I was engaged." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That one is the best. So, without fail, this game always ends up being an endless source of hilarity that night and indelible bonds are formed, with residual sly winks and nods towards one another throughout the entire New Year. See the holidays truly do bring us all closer to one another, no?

So since we are all such close personal friends here, for a few giggles (and to test your knowledge), I thought I would share the tidbits I offered for last year's game of "Secrets & Lies"....Here goes:

1) I had a quick make out session with celeb chef Rocco DiSpirito in the coatcheck at a book launch party back in 1998.

2) Two bodyguards lived with my family for a month during my senior year in high school.

3) I once had dinner with 80's rocker Billy Squier.

4) One of my favorite movies is "Selena" with Jennifer Lopez.

Yeah...those revelations seem innocent enough, right? Well...most of them. And I know the lot of you will figure it out...even as a casual reader of this blog you could probably identify the true statements...But, I will tell you this -- I stumped them all last year (except Nancy who is a master at vetting out my double speak...and Gwen wasn't there or my cover totally would have been blown...). The vast majority of Amber's guests last year believed that my "lie" was #4.....which I suppose is a compliment to the high standard of my taste in music, movies and all that....but as I said, if you have read my blogs, you know I have a soft spot for crap (remember...the Backstreet Boys are on heavy rotation in the Jag...), so #4 is simply an obvious truth. As for the rest...I am sure you are combing your brain for things I have told you over the years, trying to put two and two together....So what is the lie then? Do you think I enjoyed a little surreptitious tonsil-hockey with said studly chef?....Or maybe I have shared a meal with a big time 80's recording artist?....And what about those bodyguards? What's that about???

Oh man, you know it is already absolutely killing me not to just come clean and tell you the truth...and that is just like me, the unabashed open book...profusely revelatory to a fault. Well, this time I am keeping some of the mystery alive.... "Selena" is the only hint I am giving you this year...I will just have to keep you guessing....which is the way it should be, right?

Love to you all.... Suz

Photo 1: The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree...pretty sure I drove by it this year on the way to something else...it's certainly pretty though...

Photo 2: The Man...The Myth...The Legend...Manilow!!!

Photo 3: Little Wyckoff angels hit the Big City...

Photo 4: Those three drinks are mine...one of you can have the cookies...

Photo 5: Some of the girls boozing it up over Lynn's famous cream-cheesy shrimp slop...save some for me, Sam...

Photo 6: Nancy, Amber and Chris...they finished that entire bottle inside of an hour...

Photo 7: "Over at your parents' house, a "blank" in a box...Midday at the grocery store, a "blank" in a box....Backstage at the CMAs a "blank" in a box..."

Photo 8: Rocco...do I see some lip gloss smudged across your pouty delicious mouth??

Photo 9: My senior year housemates???

Photo 10: Sainted Tejano goddess: Selena Quintanilla Perez...

Keep Feeling Fascination....

''Will Smith, Tom Cruise, and Rush Limbaugh are among Barbara Walters' 10 Most Fascinating People of 2008. Which proves, if nothing else, that Barbara Walters is easily fascinated.''

—Seth Meyers on Saturday Night Live



Ok, so, last week I was partaking in my weekly perusal of the Bible...well, my Bible, Entertainment Weekly...and stumbled across a tidbit upon which I could not resist expounding. In addition to in depth coverage of pop culture and entertainment news, EW features this section in the back called "Sound Bites," which
chronicles the funniest/wittiest/most ironic lines spoken on TV the week prior. And I love it....it is like Cliffs Notes for the attention deficit crowd -- No need to fire up the TiVo now, I know which Survivor contestant used the snake/rat metaphor to his/her advantage last Thursday.... Of course my boyfriend, Joel McHale from The Soup (best show on TV...) and my other boyfriend, Stephen Colbert from, well, The Colbert Report, of course, are regularly highlighted in "Sound Bites" for their witty barbs and pseudo-narcissistic declarations. But last week it was the above quote from Seth Meyers of SNL that not only cracked me up, but also, frankly, had me pondering....I agree with Seth, not one of those glory-hog celebs in The Barbara Walters Cry-fest Special even slightly interests me, this year, last year or ever...including Barbara herself, though I'd rather listen to her for an hour than spend more than 30 seconds on Will Smith...ugh, and Tom Cruise...ick, my dislike for him long predates his couch-jumping when the rest of you jumped on the bandwagon (except ADP, of
course, who always insists she would take alien zombie Katie Holmes' place in a heartbeat...) so no, he doesn't fascinate me...and Rush Limbaugh...Seriously? Uh, please....

So I am thinking, WTF?? Barbara is a journalistic icon...a woman who broke barriers before I was even born...She must have at least two brain cells to rub together, and her apparent love of Chanel suits and penchant for indecipherable eye-lifts proves she has a modicum of taste somewhere in there...And she cannot come up with a better crop of fascinating beings to profile? From what I understand (and remember, Stonehill English majors are the smartest....), by definition, to be
fascinating is to captivate, enthrall, allure and strike curiosity within...now that is what I am talking about...and sorry, but by the mere overexposure of Babs' picks, they have rendered
themselves completely un-fascinating...not just in 2008, but for all eternity, I might add.

So though I make slightly less money than Barbara Walters and do not yet have my own TV show on which I lord over a bunch of hens and
battleaxes, I still think I am well-versed in finding intrigue within even the most obscure of characters...and so a selection of my picks for Most Fascinating of 2008 await you....

5. Tyler Florence

I know...I talk about this Food Network chef all the time...so I guess it is obvious that I have some little schoolgirl crush on him...But is it actually him that I find appealing? Well, I do love his ex-pat Southern boy charm and naughty frat boy bloat that mars his undeniable prettiness. But I don't think that is the only reason I watch Tyler's Ultimate...it couldn't be, because we all know that a beautiful face gets kind of boring after a while, right? No, no...there must be something else that makes me feel like I want to lick the TV every time he pops up on screen. You know, I think it is that Tyler Florence unwittingly seduces the viewer through his utter adoration for food that you see in his eyes, hear in his voice and cannot miss on his face. I mean...it is almost uncomfortable to watch...he gets all breathy and ramped up as he puts pancetta and Gruyere and heavy cream and sage and G*d knows what else into his "Ultimate Mac & Cheese." And the way he says "melted leeks" or "warm butter"...you totally get the vibe that he wants to jump into the oven with the pan and roll around in it. And that in turn captivates the viewer...like, damn! I have got to get that recipe now! I for one have been known to yell down to my husband with a shopping list at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning and he's like: We need to make Ultimate Pecan Brittle Cheesecakes right now?? Hell, yes! Do what I say! So yeah, Tyler Florence is kind of like the Dirk Diggler of TV chefs...giving we food porn addicts a place at the table. Thanks, Tyler!


4. Rick Astley

Last December I saw a clip of 80's pop-three-hit-wonder, Rick Astley, appearing on some British variety show and he looked so amazing...dark-haired, handsome and dynamic...and I was blown away -- I mean, who knew he was even still alive and then there he was lighting up the TV screen. Where was the faux prep fashion sense and man-orexic nerdiness? What about his flaming red hair and incongruously silky singing voice? So I called Sam right away and told her all about it...and she patently refused to believe that Rick Astley was alive and looking good...no matter how much I tried to convince her, she insisted I was somehow mistaken...or possibly that my questionable taste in men (ponytailed pro wrestlers, beguiling silver foxes and, yes, tragically true, the young David Crosby, have all been the object of my fancy....) had finally hit its nadir.


But no! I was on to something...little did Sam and I know then that Rick Astley was bound for a major comeback in a distinctly millennial way. That's right, in 2008, a fun new cyber prank was introduced, the act of emailing a disguised hyperlink to a friend, suggesting it is an article or picture or news story they must read/see/hear about...and when he or she clicks, what appears onscreen is the loud iconic 80's video to "Never Gonna Give You Up" with Rick's 20 years younger self dancing away....this process has become internationally known as "The Rick Roll." Though I have no clue how it originated, or if Rick himself is actually the evil genius behind it, I do know that Rick Rolling is sweeping the nation, cracking people up from sea to shining sea....even the effin' Muppets in the Thanksgiving Day parade. And as simple a pleasure as it is, Rick Rolling, or being Rick Roll'd, is truly the silliest, most satisfying diversion...a fun little nugget that brightens any day...


3. Sgt. Caroline Mason

Who you ask? Come on...who doesn't hang on every word, model every look, or shed a tear at every glance of Memphis Homocide's HBIC (for you geriatrics, this acronym stands for Head B*tch In Charge), Caroline Mason. Or am I the only morbid freak who TiVo's Caroline's hit A&E series, The First 48? Oh yes, it is some great TV -- a documentary show that chronicles the integral first 48 hours of a homocide investigation at a selection of big city police departments across the country (First 48 is a great complement to the equally raw and depressing, though less bloody, Intervention, by the way...). And of the detectives showcased on the show, the very best of all is Caroline -- the hottest, ghetto fab-a-lous fashion icon since Pam Grier...

Caroline Mason has long-a** fake fingernails, always flawlessly polished, and a Jackie Kennedy-inspired weave...she is always sporting 4-inch heels and a ton of gold jewelry dangling from her wrists as she steps over bloody crime scenes, pokes at bullet-riddled bodies and talks to cracked-out witnesses. But those are the least of Caroline's appealing qualities...what sucks me in every time is her badass interrogation style -- she sort of mixes motherly guilt-tripping with this mumbled streetwise vernacular. Every one of the perps she gets her hands on ends up crying...and she doesn't care if the dead guy is the worst drug dealing pimp in town...she is going to find who is responsible and see that justice is served for the victim's family (click here to watch her best work...). And you are captivated watching her...I wonder each week why Caroline Mason goes to work every morning...but at the same time I know just by watching that she wouldn't miss it for anything. I cannot relate at all...I have a hard time motivating myself to walk downstairs and check my email on Monday morning. She is surrounded by death and hell and despicable, useless dregs all day long...why does she love her job so much? But you know she does...and that is why I think Caroline Mason rocks.


2. The Stars of Flipping Out

I started writing this piece about Jeff Lewis, star and center of the Flipping Out universe because I find watching him truly one of the most compelling ways to spend an hour...he is a relentless ballbuster with a sadistic sense of humor and this razor sharp wit...on top of that, his upscale gay man design aesthetic is the most sought after look of the year. But as I wrote, I realized that though Jeff and his OCD/control freak/evil genius thing is what draws you into the addiction that is Flipping Out, it is the enabling co-dependence of his business associates and quasi-friends, Jenni, Zoila and Ryan, that astounds you...and makes you stick around to watch. It is Jenni Pulos though that truly amazes...she is not only the twin of Elaine Benes, but she also serves as Jeff's mouthpiece, first line of defense, sage, therapist, bodyguard and daily lunch buddy. She has to back up his ridiculous requests and outrageous demands, and accept their life-changing consequences...For instance, this season Jeff rigged a hidden camera security system to spy on his staff, which resulted in the firing of his house manager (for checking email on company time), who happened to also be Jenni's husband....and what was Jenni's response?? She filed for divorce! Her allegiance to Jeff and his business trumped her marriage...now that is a woman whose got some whacked out priorities...Jenni Pulos is my idol.

1. Spaghetti Cat

Need I explain, really? Spaghetti Cat is the biggest star in Hollywood...His quiet charisma is palpable and his mysterious love of pasta captivates, entralls and strikes curiosity within each one of us, no?



Ok...so maybe that last one was kind of a joke (not really...). Look, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that what is most fascinating to me are the people I actually know and see everyday. You know, there are those of you out there, my good friends even, who I know have juicy little secrets and thoughts and desires you will never ever share with me, and that is in itself immensely enticing....But also, there are those folks that are on the same schedule as you that you see in Starbucks everyday at 8:37...or on the train platform...or next to you on the treadmill...and you're kind of like, where does he/she go after this...who are they actually. For example, I am endlessly intrigued by the Hot Tub Couple who live on my block. I don't know their names...they live in this little stone cottage on the corner...don't seem to have children of any age...they have a big model sailboat perched in their front bay window....there is always this New York Mets flag hanging from a flag pole attached to a giant tree on their yard and a vintage Porsche in the driveway...But for some reason my interest is peaked by their elusive nature...

I don't think anyone ever sees the woman...this year I caught a quick glimpse of her on Halloween when she sat on their steps in a witch hat, a glass of wine at her side. The man is outside a lot, walking the neighborhood with his Wheaton terrier, wearing shades, his silver-streaked hair slicked back -- I always wave to him and his only reaction is to sort of mysteriously nod back. Secretly I kind of want him to start talking to me, to become my private neighborhood friend....because, you know, I am absoultely dying to know what the deal is with that hot tub -- an anomaly in this neighborhood -- with its unobscured, perfect view from every approach and filmy white curtains. Seriously...WTF? I have never seen them use it, and I would know, because it is guarded only by this little decorative iron fence. And all I can picture is the two of them packed in there with their couple friends like that scene from Boogie Nights when Burt Reynolds climbs into the hot tub with Dirk Diggler and Reed Rothschild and it's all so snug and...well, ick, so smary and awkward. So maybe Hot Tub Couple uses their open-air spa in the middle of the night, which begs the question -- what kind of shenanigans are going on in that house? That lovely little innocent seeming cottage...what debauchery lies behind those doors? Damn, I am dying to get in there...

Hmmm...come to think of it, my fascination with Hot Tub Couple is, you know, kind of fascinating. Admit it...you want to know more about me now...you want to know why I am so interested in this phantom couple and their exciting hot tubbing and their supposed wild lifestyle...So I suppose this must be why Barbara Walters sticks to profiling boring celebs and generic subject matters...because then all we really know about her is that she likes Chanel suits and indecipherable eye-lifts...

Many kisses to all...Suz

Photo 1: The Bible, featuring the two pop culture Messiahs on the cover...now those two b*tches are intriguing...

Photo 2: Tom Cruise...acting kind of normal for him...Fascinating? No...

Photo 3: A pre-Chanel/eye-lift Barbara...much more fascinating back then...

Photo 4: Oh Tyler, honey, come hither...you can melt my leeks any day...

Photo 5: David Crosby circa 1962 on what was absolutely his hottest day ever...admit it, he's kind of cute and naughty looking as a young thing, no? Or is my taste really for sh*t?

Photo 6: Rick Roll me, baby! Does he not look like a different dude completely?

Photo 7: Pam Grier/Foxy Brown...Caroline Mason's hot mess style guru...

Photo 8: Caroline Mason...simply the best weave on the planet...

Photo 9: Co-dependents Support Group...Jenni and Jeff can't leave each others' sides...

Photo 10: Love you, Spaghetti Cat...don't get all Lohan on us now that you are a big star...

Photo 11: Lots and lots of people to be intrigued by...hopefully one of them is an exhibitionist!

Photo 12: Hot Tub Couple finally invite Rob and I for a dip...wouldn't you like to know what happened....