You Know, She Thrills Me With All Her Charms...

Ok so, this past Friday afternoon I somehow talked my husband into allowing me...wait a minute, I lost myself there for a second...did I say that he "allowed " me to do something? Laughable, right? Who allows me??? Let me rephrase...somehow I made him believe it was his idea that I go to an afternoon movie all alone while he retrieved and cared for our children. Score! And though I adore my little cherubs and often spend the day longing for them, being alone is like, my favorite thing ever...well, until I get bored and start texting and emailing anyone who is still sitting at his or her desk, manhandling a Crackberry...or if nothing else I just call Suse for a mindless afternoon chat. But I digress...there is nothing like being alone with your thoughts...especially in the darkness of a theater....(yikes, that sounds vaguely pornographic...totally unintentional...).

So, anyway, I saw The Wrestler with Mickey Rourke (!)...and I am going to reserve commentary because I have a long history with wrestlers, which is an episode in my life that I will need to dissect in tandem with my movie review...and it is an especially embarrassing story, so you'll want to wait. So anyway, when the movie was over I had every intention of heading back home and chilling with the family....but as I stepped out into the bright sunlight (bonus points for the first one who identifies the classic work of young adult fiction from which that last phrase is lifted), I received a call from Gwen inviting me to tag along with she and the Ferguson sisters, who were off to a spontaneous dinner at this newly renovated, multi-tiered local mega restaurant, Portobello. Complete with fancy bar, $16 drinks and another "Bad Manilow" bar singer, this spot is divorcee central, swear to G*d...so guys, get your a**es there if you are on the prowl for an easy good time....And so it took the waiter no less than 30 minutes to bring our first drink order, the four of us still took in the scene, laughed and enjoyed the time together. And though it was harder this time around, I once again convinced my husband that my evening jaunt was his idea (oh don't get your knickers in a twist, guys, I promised him he could have Saturday afternoon to loaf around and completely check out to his heart's content...and then I spent all day cooking his favorite Tagliatelle Bolognese for Sunday dinner...).

But that is not my point...it's just that, my ability to sidestep responsibility didn't end there. I woke up this past Saturday morning and my middle child was ready to head out early for lacrosse with Rob, and my first born was being picked up for basketball by one of the neighborhood moms. So then, just as I was about to extricate myself from my billowy, toasty comforter and pack my jealous and possessive 5 year old into the little blue Jag for a caffeine-run, my dad called and offered to deliver my daily iced venti nonfat latte to my doorstep. Yes! Another score for me...this day was already kicking a**. Now, I had all morning long to decode the blind items on Dlisted.com and visit my vast array of email inboxes.

And that is where I found it....the best invitation I have received in months. No, no...not another cocktail hour or bar crawl or dinner party or trunk show...even better. This is what the message said:

"Dear Suzanne -- Your Facebook friend, K------, has invited you to join the group, Jill Biden Hooker Boot Fan Club. Please follow the attached link to accept this invitation."

Awesome!!!!!!!!

So, I wasted no time clicking the link and viewing the fan page...and I busted out laughing at the description the club's moderator posted to explain this new fan club's purpose. It said:

"Jill Biden is my new favorite VP wife because she wore hooker boots to the Inauguration. I wonder if Bill Clinton even noticed someone was being sworn in as President?"

Hilarious! and so true...that n'er-do-well Bill Clinton...he would so be my type if he wasn't such a man-wh*ring glory hog...or maybe those are actually his appealing qualities, not sure...

So anyway, I am not much of a cyber group joiner, aside from my alumni network pages, the only Facebook "groups" that I felt were representative of my personality and deigned to join are: Addicted to Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives (who isn't) and Nancy Whiskey Pub NYC (my fave dive bar and the one spot in town at which I am always guaranteed to be the best dressed person in the room...well, second best actually...). The thing was, this "friend" who invited me to join the Jill Biden Hooker Boot Fan Club, though she enjoys my blogs, is not one of my besties or anything...not someone whom I realized would intrinsically know that, not only is Mrs. Biden by far the one character with whom I most identify in this new four year sitcom, The Obama Administration....but also, that I would waste no time joining a fan club for a ferocious pair of boots.

But come on, it's occurred to each one of us -- there is definitely something secretly intriguing brewing under Jill Biden's doting wife surface. That little pixie with her upper middleclass suburban blond highlights and cute suits...I feel like I know her, like she represents the fun-loving sorority sisters and jaded housewives...and I definitely like her. And then I figured out why -- Jill Biden is from New Jersey....I knew she looked familiar... You know, everyone thinks they are Pennsylvania salt-of-the-earthers....not exactly. Jill was born in Hammonton (actually, since I never venture south of Hoboken, I am not quite sure where that is...but I know it is within New Jersey state limits...) and she spent her youthful summers waitressing at The Shore -- a required right of passage for Garden State residents. And, come on folks, one thing that we can all agree on is that we well-heeled ladies of New Jersey are that perfect combination of sophistication and vivacity...a little glamour on the fringe of the buttoned-up, Wall Street prepster aesthetic that permeates the metro-New York City suburban enclaves. You know, Jill probably goes bare-legged at the Country Club dinners like some of us do (those randy old WASPs love that look...)...and I have a feeling she might wear a little lacy black bra underneath her cashmere sweater sets. And I could totally see her right there with Allison and I that time we were the only two Jersey girls in attendance at our BFF HG's baby shower in Cos Cob...All those refined Connecticut ladies were so quiet and pristine and well-mannered...and there we were, the only two in the room sporting lip gloss, our skirt hems a little higher than their tasteful pantsuits. And we were giggling and cheering on HG throughout gift opening, one needlepoint pillow after another...And you could just tell the other guests just didn't know what to make of Allison and me...but we were having the best damn time. The best...You know, so throwing a little edge and spirit and, ok, some sexiness, into an otherwise elegant affair is a move that I applaud...and those hooker boots sold Jill Biden to me...she is definitely, by far the hottest VP wife in all the land. How did Joe B.'s hair plugs land her? I need to know.

So, it's kind of refreshing after eight years with a somewhat ornery Vice Presidental couple to meet Mrs. Biden and see her breathe a little life into the office. So, I am actually really looking forward to Jill's profile steadily rising over the next four years...I hope she goes on Oprah every week and spills inside secrets and gossip and then just shrugs it off, ignoring Joe's protests and "shush-ing"...and that she perks up every DC cocktail party by winking and flirting with every one of those old relics still serving terms in the Senate...I hope she annoys Michelle Obama daily with her cuteness...and of course I hope she rocks short skirts and hot shoes to every single state dinner, bill signing, Presidential address, Kennedy Center Honors ceremony and turkey pardoning for the next four years.

But most of all, I hope she convinces her dear husband that it was all his idea in the first place.

xoxo, Suz

Photo 1: There I am, enjoying a quiet moment alone at the movies...I hope that guy next to me didn't mind me snuggling up...

Photo 2: One of the few scenes from The Wrestler in which I did not cover my eyes...he is that busted...

Photo 3: Mmmm...think I might lick the monitor...

Photo 4: Mommy: so looking for an excuse not to come out from under those covers...(as shot by my jealous and possessive 5 year old...)

Photo 5: Fiercest Inaugural get-up since that hot b*tch, Lady Bird, graced the scene...

Photo 6: Oh man...he is just so naughty...and (who's with me??) kind of irresistable too...

Photo 7: What Jersey girl doesn't love a show dedicated to the beauty of the iconic diner?

Photo 8: With one of my Nancy Whiskey besties, Elvis (swear to G*d),...yes, yet again am best dressed...

Photo 9: JB: upstaging the First Lady with her Jersey style...

Photo 10: BFF Allison and me...spicing up elegant affairs across the tri-state since 1979...

Photo 11: Shhhhhhhhhhh...Jill is making an a** out of Joe and I want to hear every minute of it...