Oh, We're Halfway There...or Maybe Just a Third...

We began our "New Face of Forty" spa tour sampling granola, totally buff beneath bathrobes (well, truthfully Lisa and I are far too demure to go commando...but those other hussies were all over it...)...Suse was laughing hysterically while surveying the many offerings of the bathroom bidet...warm, cool, front, back, soft, hard and, of course, blowing air... Oh yes, at Elements Spa at the Crystal Springs Resort, not one inch of your body is unattended to... And so our treatments commenced...

But let me rewind a little so I can set the scene... It was Suse's big birthday this past Monday, and as such a group of our friends converged upon Crystal Springs for a spa weekend/girlie sleepover party. There was Suse and Sistergirlfriend (aka SisterG), Lisa, leading the way...Sam and Mary riding alongside me in my Little Blue Jag replacement, the less flashy yet far more dependable, Black Equinox (wah, wah, waaaah...). Kerry and Lisa D. were only 30 minutes behind...Ellen making the scene for a manicure and some cocktails...Ann and Karen meeting us for dinner...but the award for most committed goes to Helen, who not only hit the Cub Scouts annual Blue & Gold dinner before driving up to meet us, but she didn't even take a moment to change...her brown Scout Leader shirt still in place...but looking cute as can be in it, as only Helen can. I warned her the concierge would think we hired a stripper if she walked in wearing that thing...but she still wore it...oh and we did dance, but there was no stripping...I will get to that....

Back to the beginning -- of course there were giggles and chit chat and major happenings to cover and analyze and deconstruct during the 45 minute ride into some other NJ county (where is Vernon anyway...is that Sussex?)... At any rate...we arrived at the spa, and first we lunched and then checked in at the spa, where Suse, SisterG and Sam settled in for their first appointments while Mary and I drove over to check in at the Grand Cascades Lodge, the other, newer hotel at the Resort... And wouldn't you know it? As we settled up and got our keys and tipped the bellman, four other Washington School moms, there for their own Spa Weekend, strolled by...and we all stared at one another in bewilderment, processing this odd out of context moment...eventually suggesting we catch up at dinnertime for a cocktail. So after we set up the rooms, unloaded the selection of champagne and wine and cheese and bread and chocolate and cupcakes that we brought along, Mary and I headed back to Elements, put on our flip flops and robes, and found our girls chilling out in the rosewater foot baths...

And so, my French pedicure, which includes a foot massage by tongue (just kidding...but some of you guys enjoyed the image...I know you did....) was soothing and beautifying...and my facial was rejuvenating, leaving me glossy and fresh...and the Spa granola was divine, as was the lunching and the chatting and the laughing and the being with my close friends in a serene atmosphere. But as I settled in the rosewater foot bath post facial, I checked my watch and looked around...only Mary and I remained...which could only mean that the rest of the Spa posse was already back at Grand Cascades, showering and cocktailing...they were getting a head start! Damned if I could sit still for that...I hopped out of that rosewater bath and sprinted into the changing area, where Mary was alone with the bidet (hmmmm...)...I hastily dressed, ran out to pay my bill and make an appointment for the next morning -- a Hot Stone Massage (mmm...yum...have the tingles just recalling...) -- and Mary a

nd me hopped in the car and sped back to meet our friends.

And we found Suse and SisterG hanging with our dinner guests, Ellen and Karen and Ann...and they had already cracked out the supreme brie and the sauvignon blanc and the Reese's Peanut Butter Hearts (tastes great with a dry white...)...and they were all clean and squeaky, newly washed hair...and the clock was ticking... I took a quick sip and ran to my room, where Sam was exiting the shower...I brushed my teeth and checked out my glossy skin in the mirror...and it was then that I asked myself what was more important: being on time for cocktails or sporting my steamy, scraggly, rumpled spa hair at dinner... I am a vain little b*tch at times, but there was no question...nobody minds a little spa hair now and then, as long as you are holding a champagne flute when your friends make the first toast of the night. So I jumped in the shower at lightening speed....within minutes I was all dressed in my black J. Crew ensemble and my gunmetal grey patent leather T-straps...I poufed my Spa Hair (not quite as sexy as beach hair, by the way, but tousled still...), applied the makeup and was on my merry way, 15 minutes from the time Mary and I walked in the door. It wasn't until we started taking pictures later in the night that in my haste to take part in some bubbly, I had not realized I had placed light-colored undergarments beneath an apparently see-through shirt...so enjoy the photos because I have no choice but to share and flash you all by default (my apologies...).

So anyway...we made our way to the bar at the Crystal Tavern (where SisterG and I spotted Elin Nordegren and Forest Whitaker...or maybe it was Elin's twin and some other guy who looked like Forest...)...Either way we ordered up Kir Royale all around...except for Kerry who chose the extra WASPy vodka collins (she is a Mainliner, after all...). And there were salads and dinners (kurobuta pork!) and photos and many bottles of wine...and there was a little chocolate mousse cake for Suse and the Happy Birthday song. And as we exited the Crystal Tavern we took a detour and caught up with the other group of Washington moms that had made the scene... And then, just when Helen finally arrived in her Scout Leader outfit and we squealed with delight, we heard a rumor that there was a gay wedding taking place in the ballroom around the corner....

That was all I had to hear!

Unable to contain my need to revel amongst the gays, I grabbed Sam and Helen and we hightailed it to the adjacent ballroom...hoping for cheery guests, pulsating music, a jammed dance floor, well-dressed and fabulously groomed men telling hilarious stories.... But instead, we encountered the lamest party of all time kicked into high gear... There was not a gay in sight and this was obviously some New Jersey nether-regions office party gone wrong. There was a sparsely populated dance floor anchored by an over-excited DJ spinning some tune-age by JayZ...there was the obligatory unattractive office couple pawing at one another, and the secretarial pool was dancing in a circle. In the back corner of the room there were two very bored bartenders tending the emptiest bar in history. Sam went over to said bartenders and asked if this was the gay wedding and through their laughter they cleared up what we already knew...this party was for the employees of some Cablevision office nearby. So, thinking they were following me out, I turned on my heels and went back to get the other girls...and as I did so, a woman in a red floral dress invited Sam and Helen to stay and dance....and they did.

I returned minutes later with the rest of our group and as we entered the ballroom we took in the scene -- Sam and Helen dominating the room, a group of Sweet 16 partiers alongside them...and the entire Cablevision office staff watching in stunned confusion. We ran to the dance floor and danced as a group and snapped pictures and laughed out loud as quickly as possible...because we knew that behind our backs the Cablevision team was devising a plan to oust us so that their lame bash could begin again...And the next thing we knew some waitress came over and told us to get the hell out after the song was over...and Sam goes: "we were invited!" and points to the lady in the red floral dress who was heading in our direction mouthing the words: "I'm sorry." And we are all waving her off like: "no, don't worry...it's all good...don't be sorry..." and she goes: "I really wish you could stay because my daughter is 25 too, and I love seeing girls your age having a good time..."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Say what?????????????

I have to say, this woman was no more than 50...and had to have been either very drunk or severely vision impaired. Or perhaps it is possible that the Cablevision radio waves had rendered the lady in the red floral dress delusional...I mean, no question my group of friends...not just the Spa Girls either, the extended group, far and wide...are an amazingly beautiful, attractive, vivacious, compelling and well-kept group of lovelies...but I can admit it, we definitely look at least 32 on our best day. Still, we didn't correct her mistake...who are we to argue with 25? You know...like I said..."The New Face of Forty."

So we moved on, and after briefly considering hitting the pub, we decided to take our conga line upstairs, get dressed in pjs and meet for a girlie gab-session on Suse and SisterG and Mary's

beds... and there we cracked open the cupcakes and the raspberry brownies and all of that chocolate and washed it all down with chardonnay as we played a game of "Questions" 80's style... you know, things like: "Which Breakfast Club character best mirrors your high school persona?"...and "What is the best " '80's one hit wonder?"...and "Purple Rain: compelling showcase of Price's groundbreaking artistry or borderline porno?"... And so we now know the group's collective favorite Journey song is "Don't Stop Believin'..." though Suse and I made a solid argument for "Open Arms"...oh the genius of Steve Perry coupled with pre-teen angst! I mean, who doesn't love a great 80's power ballad to bawl your eyes out to? It's my favorite of all pastimes...next to being naughty. Anyway...so, we questioned and answered and we giggled and chit chatted and dissected and deconstructed and told stories...finishing the night exactly as it had begun on the drive up...bonding with our favorite girlfriends.

Lucky us to have these moments together as often as we do...and lucky Suse to be celebrated and surrounded by such love and friendship for a full 24 hours...who could ask for more for a fortieth birthday, really?

Well....other than being mistaken for a 25 year old.....

xo, S

** This post written with thoughts of D.E., who needed someone...but did not think she had any girlfriends she could lean on...R.I.P.

Photos:

1. Jen Aniston, with the most powerful reps in the business selling her to us as Queen of the "New Forty..." Ok, I'll buy that...

2. SisterG, Me and Suse...devising a strategy to eek out one more day at the Spa...

3. Spa Girls: SisterG, Suse, Mary and me...all wrapped up in our Spa robes, feet in the rosewater baths, spa hair apparent...some of us in the buff underneath...

4. SisterG, Ellen, Suse, Karen and Lisa...all dressed up and draining those champagne bottles while I was still covered in rosewater...

5. Sam and Lisa patiently waiting for a refill on their Kir Royale...

6. Suse wth Scout Master Helen who is just joining the party...tell me she's not rocking out that hot brown shirt...
7. Tragic fashions and dance moves by the Sussex County Cablevision posse...you just know that's the mailroom guy and the accounts payable assistants...

8. (left to right) Kerry, Helen, Suse, Lisa, Me and my blush colored bra, SisterG, Sam and Mary...Hot b**tches on parade...Of course we could pass for 25! In Sussex County at least...

9. The girls surrounding Suse with love on her big day...

I Just Want To Fly...

I spent all day Wednesday closed inside, behind a broken garage door opener...car stuck = Suz paralyzed. Oh, and don't think I am quite so pathetic that I didn't attempt the manual release option that is provided on electronic door openers...the problem was far more complex that a little pulley/release string could cure. And of course I was handling all of this inconvenience with my signature grace and calm serenity...just about ready to b**ch-slap the next person who crossed my path...you know, totally rational as always. And I had a million things I wanted to do and a few that I needed to do...you know, get the kids to school (thanks Pina!), hit Abma's, grab an iced latte (big sis Trish to the rescue...), meet up with Kassie for a long planned and much delayed chit-chat... Instead, I took to Facebook where my friends were sympathetic and helpful, but also pointed to fate...maybe, they suggested, Jesus or God or my guides and higher spirits had put this in place, to force me to chill for a while...nowhere to go, nothing to rush to. But always I am looking to rush...to head out and escape...to meet for drinks or coffee or dinner or lunch...to be out and about. Which only reminded me....

Just last week I had to say goodbye for good to an old friend...and you know, it was difficult for me because I hate goodbyes...I always want things to end on a good note. But honestly, my relationship with said friend had broken down in recent months, though we had once been very close, particularly the past few years. You know how it is...all the bells and whistles were going off, warning lights flashing for months on end. And so, it was clear, though I tried my very best to find a way to make it work, that it would never go back to the way it once had been. So that was it....and I have replaced this old friend with someone new (you must not know 'bout me...), someone younger and in better shape...and though I miss the old days, I am better off....

But still, my darling, dearest Little Blue Jag...I wish it didn't have to end...

Yup...my Little Blue love affair is over. The poor old gal had been sputtering for months...like it was p*ssed at me for something (who isn't?). Almost overnight this Fall, the brakes became all skittish and the engine sounded like an asthmatic ninety-two year old smoker and the heat all of a sudden just quit burning...and this was after the damn thing dropped its transmission on me this summer in the middle of Long Beach Boulevard, cars whizzing by me and swerving, a group of Italian guys in wife beaters stopping traffic and pushing me onto one of those state-named streets in Peahala Park (see, folks, as I have always said: Guidos, on the whole, are nice people...) and I had her towed 92 miles back to Wyckoff Auto, spending $3,000 fixing her up...and still, she was never the same.

I know, I know...the Little Blue Jag was an inanimate object...but there were so many good times together...you know, belting the Backstreet Boys ("But we...are two worlds apart/can't reach to your heart...") on the Westside Highway...playing fake burnt-out trophy wife on the GWB...driving through harrowing summer storms along the Merritt Parkway, the Jag's ratty windshield wipers somehow holding up, precariously though, as the tornado swirled me. And then it was my Dad's pre-set stations on the Jag's radio that introduced me to Friday Night '80's on WFAS (Westchester's Best Music Variety!)...which always seemed to cheer me. But best of all were the drives to Boston, to the Cape and down The Shore (not Seaside, Snooki...), all over the tri-state and then uptown, downtown, across town, East Side, West Side...picking up, dropping off, going out, having fun...I am going to miss those days. I loved that car.

I know missing a car is kind of a pointless pursuit...but our cars house many of our moments...and symbolize something to, and about us, I think. I mean, you know who's coming at you when you see a pickup with a Confederate flag draped in the back window...or a white mini-van with the fake smashed baseball in the window and the "My child is on the Honor Roll at..." bumper sticker....or the red Ferrari, tinted windows, gold rims...you can make a judgement on every one of those drivers just by looking at his or her car...so a car can be a harbinger...letting us know what to expect from its passengers. I don't know what the Little Blue Jag said about me, but I am fine with whatever that was.

The last time I felt quite so connected to a car was back at Stonehill, my little teal 1989 Honda Accord that Annie Murphy named Marge...she was the first car that was all mine...and we spent those most impactful years of my life together...I experienced all those silly College shenanigans and early adulthood strife in Marge's driver's seat. We Orleans Girls made road trips to University of Maine and Merrimack and Loyola in Baltimore and Harvard and URI and Fordham with Marge, blasting Carly Simon's "Anticipation" ("stay right here, cause there are the good old days...") from her speakers and crying together, as we began to anticipate graduation day. And everyone knew Marge belonged to me...my sparkly teal Honda Accord parked behind Duffy. So many memories. When I moved to the Big City in the winter of 1994, I had to send Marge away for good....and I cried because I knew my next car would be an "adult" car...probably a "suburban car"...and most definitely would not know the great times we had as kids with our first taste of freedom. I could only hope that the Honda dealership resold Marge to a bright, shiny college co-ed, adding to the fun times Marge brought me. And I bet that car is still running today, over 20 years later....

But my Little Blue Jag is not being refurbished or resold to a fake burnt-out trophy wife/car singer/tornado-chasing distracted mom...No, no...that old friend truly is gone for good...

So I guess in my car-less paralysis and extra free "pondering" time on Wednesday, I found that it is the freedom a car brings to us that attaches to it a personality, a soul and a heart....because if nothing else, you can get in and go away and, even for a little while, get lost in your own thoughts...and your car is your companion, and can pretty much take you anywhere...with a soundtrack of your choosing. And there is something comforting in knowing that no matter what point you are at in life...how important your job is...how many children you have that need you...how many demands are upon you...how many people love you, want to be with you, expect your help or loyalty or devotion...there is always the freedom to hop in and be on your own...to go wherever you want to go, even for a little while...

But...even I think that the best thing about freedom -- the freedom to sing along to Friday Night '80's ("Say after me/It's no better to be safe than sorry...") at the top of your lungs while cruising the streets with nowhere to go -- is that it is so much more fantastic and fun when someone you love rides shotgun alongside you....

So....wait for me out front, I am on my way...

Photos:

1. Not my garage door, but almost an exact replica of the state of affairs when I woke this morning...

2. Me - Little Blue Jag = The Sads...

3. My dear old friend...well, one that looks like her...probably pushed into place by a gaggle of friendly Guidos...

4. My trusty Garmin perched on the Jag's window, post tornado...

5. Marge -- 1989 - 1994...RIP...is that the parking lot behind Duffy..???

6. Annie Murph, me and Heidi, on the Cape, Senior Week, 1992...delivered to the booze-fest by Marge...

7. Jeanne and I riding double in Marge's shotgun seat, toasting with keg beer the first night of sophomore year, September, 1990...

8. Driving across the sandy dunes after a day at Great Point on Nantucket, where the Nantucket Sound crosses the Atlantic Ocean...a most beautiful and remote spot, and my car got me there...

A Bunch of Zeroes....

Ugh...oh god...this winter almost had me in its clutches! The dark afternoons and bare trees and grey skies and the only thing to look forward to (the month and anniversary of my birth...hello...!) still weeks and weeks in the distance. And I was almost susceptible to it, you know...giving into the angst and dwelling on letdown. How tiresome to be tired all the time. And how insufferable to wallow needlessly. So, it's winter and it's frigid and we are wearing our Uggs 'round the clock...big deal....there is so much ahead...spring shoes await us. So I am back....and ready to cover the goings-on...

It's a big year my friends, this Zero year and all the milestones it brings...and the celebrations have already begun. Of course there was Ellie and the countless celebrations of her 10 years...we not only

had a girls' day in the Big City, and sang Happy Birthday while ringing in the New Year with our inner circle...I also took her to see Bye Bye Birdie which starred the perennial hero of the tweener set (thanks to Nick at Night), John Stamos (aka Uncle Jesse)...and to her, we might as well have been seeing the Beatles live on Ed Sullivan. Afterwards she and I met big sis, Cath, at A Voce over on 26th Street where the restaurant manager randomly took a shine to me, purportedly because we shared a last name (not Rittereiser, by the way...which would be far more unique and interesting, but he claimed my other, more generic and ubiquitous surname is what bonded us...)...and so, because he liked me, and I suppose because I smiled big and batted my lashes, he promised us a special

table. So then, the lovely hostess led Ellie and I to a little hidden, dark corner behind the bar and out of sight. I can only do justice to the table's true personality by calling it the "Affair" table...we could see everything in the restaurant, anyone coming our way, but no one could really see us without trying, no one could possibly find us a distraction...I was kind of wishing I had something to hide while there, but alas I was with my ten year old....we sat back and enjoyed the view, only later noticing that there was a display of wine behind our heads labelled "Rendezvous." Yum...that sounds delicious!

And while this was all fun and delightful and we enjoyed the amazing orrechiette with wild boar ragu and perciatelli with anchovies and braised pork and Tuscan doughnuts and chocolate hazelnut mousse...this dinner at the "Affair" table at A Voce was not the final celebration of my firstborn's entry into double digits...oh no, the piece de resistance still lies ahead...3,000 miles away, in a town called Bel Air....

But I will get to that another time....because right now I have to tell you about another Zero year celebration...the "blankieth" birthday of one of my bestie Wyckoff Moms, Susan M....ok, so she is the first of my close girlfriends to hit the mid-century...and not only that, Susan is definitely the go-to big sister and voice of reason in our group...when one of our kids is bleeding, we call Susan for advice...when we feel slighted or confused or want clear cut guidance, we call Susan. And she has a million stories to tell of growing up in Brooklyn and of the bizarre characters she and her extended family have encountered in their years there -- the friend who had the Budweiser floral arrangements at his funeral and the Irish tenor hunting down her Dad after 30 years and the Irish Witch stuff, her deep insights and psychic abilities and outlandish but ever present good luck. And I could listen to her all night long...in fact, a few years back we hit the beach on Longboat Key together and she entertained me from well before noon until after dusk...and I could have sat there with her for another 7 hours. There is nothing more I love about Susan than that.... So of course this "blankieth" birthday called for a night out...a special event planned by our friend and Susan's Brooklyn soul sister, Dana...18 suburban ladies ditching the kids and the guys for the night...dinner and drinking and dancing among the twenty-somethings and tragic hipsters at One, in the Meatpacking District.

I know...it is hilarious to imagine us in the dark corners with the club music pumping and shot girls in micro-dresses circling the low tables...I mean, don't get me wrong, our group can deftly navigate just about any setting...chic restaurants and dive bars...Big City offices and crusty old suburban Country Clubs...we fit in any one of them (you know, I did my part to embrace the Meatpacking look in my dark wash toothpick jeans and my brandy-new 4-inch stacked python Tory Burches...). And so...ok, so even though the youngest among us (Chris...) out-aged the next oldest person in the joint (the bouncer) by no less than 10 years, we were going for

it....and we did. And it was loud and dark...but we laughed our a**es off as always, Suse and me and Kathy and Wendy down at one end telling our most ridiculous stories to one another (Charlotte Russe...that's all I am going to say, Kath...)...and toasting our guest of honor, who gave a great speech about being blessed by having a lifetime filled with wonderful girlfriends...and we were teary and giggly over our molten chocolate cake...and mingling and chatting with our surrounding pals... And so, after the chopped salad and the skirt steak and the prosecco, we were drawn to the music and the thickening crowd...and we wanted to be a part of it. So we settled the bill (the alcohol charges quite a few hundred more than the food bill...whoops!) and abandoned our tables (which, I might add, were broken down almost immediately to accommodate the club's "bottle service" customers...for you geriatrics, this is the exercise in which after 10 p.m. a group of four can sit at a table only if they purchase a bottle of premium alcohol for no less than $375...and as a bonus your party gets some mixers for free...such a deal! We actually watched as the bouncer (not so) politely removed a group of young ladies from the table adjacent to ours)...

This process didn't faze us, and we shuttled to the center of

the floor in front of the DJ booth where we were surrounded by the Meatpacking brethren of the Jersey Shore cast...but younger and with less fist pumping...so a few black-clad couples were making babies on the window ledges, to each his or her own...as long as the clothes stayed on I was cool with it... And in a circle we danced, you know, getting our "Snooki" on...and Pina snapped pictures...and Jen and Teri and Chris showed off their moves...and I tried to converse with Wendy but just ended up screaming in her ear to no avail...and then Nancy was propositioned by a nineteen year old while the only naturally grey guy in the room winked at me...of course. This was about the time my little teal point and shoot digital camera busted and went schizo right in my hands. And all I could think was: what if all the shots are gone? what if I can't share them with all of you....Dammitall!! But as you can see...the problem was short-lived...praise Jesus! Or Susan's Irish Witch luckiness.

All right, so it was already past 12:30...our chariot was awaiting... I looked at Suse and gave her the high sign, my prosecco buzz long ago worn off and my dance moves suffering as a result. We said our goodbyes...gave special hugs to our hostess, Dana, and our birthday girl, Susan...I grabbed mine and Suse's coats and off we went...away from the twenty-somethings and hipsters...back towards the kids and the green lawns and the serenity of our bedrooms, just 16 miles west... And as we crossed Little West 12th Street, we remarked on how Susan's toast was spot-on...how lucky we are to have so many moments in life with great women...good friends, together as we all head towards the next phase in life....and just knowing that can perk up anyone's drab winter blues. It was a really fun night...a fitting tribute to Susan...the first of our girls to hit the mid-century....

And as Suse and I pulled onto the Westside Highway, it suddenly occurred to me....wait, if Susan's birthday bash is over...that can only mean that my birthday is that much closer....YIKES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess it's not that bad though....after all, I'm only turning 21...

missed you....Suz

Photos:

1. Winter vista -- outside my bedroom window....well, actually not really but you get the idea...

2. Dreamy Uncle Jesse has a monkey on his back...

3. Enjoying a secret rendezvous at A Voce with my best gal and favorite date, Ellie...

4. Me and Susan as the celebration begins...

5. A beautiful sight...ten minutes in and I was already double-fisting the prosecco...

6. Me, Nancy and Suse... not quite drunk (or high...or young) enough to hang with the "bottle service" posse...

7. Big sis, sage, raconteur and mid-century hottie, Susan, toasts her milestone...

8. & 9. The ladies enjoying the cocktails and the dance floor among the barely legal throngs...

10. Kathy, me, Wendy and Suse, striking "The Pose"...feeling lucky to face the Zero milestones ahead with beloved best girlfriends...

We Drank a Toast to Innocence, We Drank a Toast to Now...

You know, I don't think I ever officially wished all of you a merry, cheery, joyful, happy and all that. And since I have last written, much has taken place...we had the Secrets & Lies cookie party at which I was kind of chill and mellow acting as hostess and having imbibed a tame three Diet Cokes and only half a flute of rose prosecco...but Latzy spiced up the joint in her fuzzy pussycat sweater that she was gifted only days before by Laura at our Dirty Santa bash with the church ladies. And there was the ugly ornament exchange, for which Nancy created a fine Christmas star out of pilfered wire hangers and 6

year old Christmas ribbon she found in my garage

....the look on Lynn's face when she unwrapped it still cracks me up.... The very next night we had Ann and Chris's annual Open House, again taking place on the evening of a snowstorm...which adds to the fun and festivity in my opinion, but kept me from wearing "the shoes"...instead sporting the 4-inch, gunmetal grey patent leather t-straps with my toothpick jeans as I trudged up their driveway in 4-inches of snowy stuff. And then....it was Christmas week...dinner with Karen and Suse at

Janice, at which we scarfed creamy mushroom soup and NY strip steaks topped with bruleed blue cheese and an unbelievable chevre, asparagus and truffle timbale on the side, and where for the first time this holiday season I heard my very favorite, "Do They Know It's Christmas..." Finally! I was beginning to think it was not Christmastime at all...(though I had heard that 1981 tear-jerking classic about the old lovers in the 7-11 drinking beers in the car by Dan Fogelberg no less that 100 times by December 1st...). And then....the rest of the week was a blur of family and food and fun and gifting and celebration and a brand new smoky violet Blackberry Curve...(yes, I said smoky violet...so deliciously sexy...yay!!..). So now, Christmas has passed....and only then did it occur to me....

Holy hell! 2009 has come to a close...

And you know, though I have no clue where the time went, I think I am ready to part with

her...to say my goodbyes to those moments and personalities that made '09 memorable or controversial or shocking or entertaining. So goodbye to the collective clawing our way out of financial crisis...and goodbye wacky families of '09 -- the Jacksons and the Gosselins and the Palins and the Lohans (Long Island's finest...) and

the Kardashians and those Balloon Boy people...and goodbye summer of death, I couldn't wait for that to come to a close...And, well....all right, ok... '09 wasn't filled entirely with bumps in road...for me in particular, there was self-discovery...and I had good times with great friends (Jughead Sisters...meet you at 12th Street Ale House next October!)...and countless parties and events...and best of all, I spent 12 full days alone with my kids on the Gulf of Mexico, and while I was there I did nothing but

revel in what I love most in life...my babies and the sea air and quiet distance....which

opened my eyes, and was an incredible blessing. If nothing else '09 gave me that. But there were all kinds of pop culture moments and events and happenings this year, for sure, like always....and I guess if I was Entertainment Weekly or Vanity Fair or Barbara Walters (ha!), then I would be truly qualified to wax poetic on the "Best of's..."....but truth is, '09 is behind us...and on top of that, so are the "00's"....

Like I said...Holy Hell!

I remember one night late in 1979...the end of my first decade on earth (wait, I am 29, what am I talking about...????)...and I was telling my Dad, as he tucked me in for the night, that I was feeling a little nervous to move beyond the

comfy 70's decade of my birth...it seemed strange to me, and I was afraid of what was to come...afraid of this unknown decade ahead (maybe I had had some odd premonition that acid wash and mullets and Kajagoogoo and "The Coreys" were awaiting us there....). Mostly I was afraid to be turning 10!!! As crazy as I was to be having such anxiety, Dad took pity and told me that change is always a little frightening...but that moving forward was good...that I had a lot to look to and do and experience and someone that I was going to become. How funny to think of now...but of course as it turned out, my Dad was right on and much of who I am, took form in the seemingly scary '80's...and my lifelong friends whom I always turn to have been with me since those very days...since the high hair and pegged jeans and oversized Benetton sweaters and zinc pink lipstick. And now....here I am back at the turn of a decade, another 10th birthday to celebrate.

You remember, don't you? While the rest of you were partying like it was 1999 and backing up your desktops and LANs and WANs and financial records and unpublished novels and Bloomberg machines ten years ago this week in anticipation of Y2K, I was

waiting. And so, on the very first day of this decade...of this millennium...I met my truest love, gave birth to her, in fact, after two full days of labor and all kinds of stops and starts....but she arrived the evening of January 1, 2000...and she and her strawberry blond, blue eyed, pink-skinned beauty and teeny, tiny serenity became mine. And here we are 10 years later....10 years have passed since Millennium madness...and for 10 years I have been Ellie's mother.

I seriously find it hard to believe that so many years have gone by this quickly. You know, I look back at pictures and I see a baby version of myself holding her...and it seems like yesterday that I was a fresh-faced new mom, with a new home, newly back from spending the "90's" in New York City.... and I had a new outlook...my sole purpose was being her mother. Ellie has been my greatest gift in that she was my first, and she showed me once and for all what it is to love. And she is filled with it...her kindness is one of her most marked characteristics...and she gives of herself without question. I do not know where she learned to be that way, because I am not quite so...and it is she who teaches me about myself every single day...

So in reading the coverage in EW and Vanity Fair and "The Today Show" and Barbara Walters'

insipid "most intriguing" list (don't even get me started....) over the past few weeks: "Best (TV, Movies, Music, Books, Personalities, Moments, Quotes, Recipes, Scandals...you name it...) of the Decade" I find myself at a slight distance, because my memories are crystallized by the fact that

I am one of the very few whose life changed radically and completely on the first day of this decade...what TV show or movie or quote or scandal could top that? But I must say, it is not just me...like a little baby's first year of life, this past 10 years has been an amazing period of growth and change for all of us, yes? I think we all grew up a little, haven't we, my friends? We have lost a bit, I think...our innocence...a few $100 million in Ponzi schemes...and that sense of security we always took for granted...and we lost icons and greats and heroes, seemingly all at once. But we gained this reconnection with old friends and loved ones...and in these 10 years I have made friends whom I love like I have known them many lives over, which I very likely have....and with texting and blogging and Facebook and youtube...as easy as a click of a mouse I can tell you all what I had for breakfast (Froot Loops and Gatorade, just like TL...) or that I love/miss/need/want you near me....which I always do.

So in celebration of this new decade, the beginning of my daughter's next ten...her most formative years ahead...we of course will enjoy our traditional pjs and Mom jewelry for New Year's Eve with the inner circle (Amber's salami roll-ups...Gwen's mac and cheese...yum...)...but as a special treat, I am taking Ellie and some of my friends' girls to the Big City -- Dylan's Candy Bar (I am hitting the KitKat station and planting myself...), the Tim Burton exhibit at MoMA (10 years olds are aching for a

little culture on their birthdays...), "mocktails" at Aspen Social Club (no worries, we'll save cheap beers at Nancy Whiskey Pub for 2021...) and a girls' dinner at Ruby Foo's (ok, so my 10th birthday was a sleepover/rollerskating extravaganza at which we stayed up all night and hazed poor Sheila S. relentlessly (see you in hell!)...but times are changing...)... and I happen to believe the girls and I will make our own "Best of" moments today...hopefully for Ellie, these will be the "Best of" a lifetime, because I see as the years pass, that this is all we really can hope to give to our loved ones...happy moments, many laughs, beautiful memories...much love.

So, my friends...that is what I promise all of you in 2010...and beyond. Happy, healthy New Year and lots of love...ten times over...

xoxo...Suz

Photos:

1. Lynn shows off Nancy's last minute artistic interpretation of an "ugly ornament"....crafted in less than 30 seconds and still prettier than the giant acorn...

2. Lynn, Sam, Suse, Latzy and sistergirlfriend Lisa sharing secrets and lies and cookies...all coveting Mary's fuzzy feline/Midwestern holiday look...

3. Some Jugheads at the waaaaay beginning of the 39 mile walk...blisters be damned, Jugheads 2.0 is looking ahead to 2010...

4. My three lolling in the warmth of the beautiful sunset on the Gulf of Mexico...

5. Suz in September 0f '79...visions of bad '80's fashion statements and hollow synth-pop on the airwaves haunting my dreams...

6. Me and Baby Ellie, September 2000...never let go...

7. Ellie as blue-eyes Pre-K princess, May 2004..

8. Joyful spirit Ellie squealing in delight as she exited Runaway Train/Thunder Mountain at Disney World, August 2009...

9. Me and my Big Girl Ellie, July 2009...never, ever let go...

Turn Up The Trouble...

It is 20 years out now and my high school friends are still a regular part of my life...you know, we

stayed connected through the years...a phone call away....and now with Facebook and email we can

interact and comment on one anothers' lives daily, just like it's 1988 and we are sitting against that lattice divider (RIP) in the Holy Angels caf. I guess it is the length and duration of these friendships that has allowed a certain level of familiarity and loyalty to each other...so, I think that is quite possibly why we are comfortable enough with one another to be complete and utter showboats and wisecracking, ballbusting gloryhogs when we hit the scene together...you know, as misguided as we may be, we find ourselves to be the most interesting and hilarious people in the room, so we cordon off in a corner and cackle and tell inside jokes and try to top one another by throwing quips left and right at people we hardly know. And it is all fun and games and in good spirit and with love...though, I am sure there are those in our wake who didn't always find us a joy to behold (like the poor sweet southern girl whom Bridget and I scandalized with our inappropriate jokes at Stacey's shopping party...two years in a row...).But we make an impact if nothing else...for better or worse.

So....

This past Saturday night we hit Casey and Marty's Christmas extravaganza...and the food and drinks and the cheery holiday decor were all top-notch, of course. The place was littered with Wall Streeters of every sort, Marty's co-workers and buddies, all along for the ride with their prim wives...and I saw familiar faces throughout the crowd, giving extra love and hugs to Big Tom and Dirty Diana, Casey's mom and dad. And so...I entered the room anticipating the fun....so what if I was the very first to make the scene out of all my friends. I have to admit...I was as sober as a judge when I got there, and maybe a little nervous to be missing a partner with whom to case the joint, so I texted Allison and Stacey furiously as I stood at the bar awaiting my Nicolas Feuillatte Rose champagne...and I chit chatted with a lovely couple who noticed me cutting the line after the first glass to help myself to more...they had come in from the Island along with Marita and the Garden City posse...but just as we began the game of "Who Do You Know...," Bridget and Brian finally hit the scene and I turned on my heels and embraced them as though we had been parted for years...and, make no mistake, Bridget and I had shared a champagne lunch on Stacey's barstools a mere 24 hours prior...still, I ran to them...

And so, commenced the night....

Soon Allison and Kevin arrived, as did my own husband who had begun his night catching up with friends elsewhere...and last but not least, Stacey arrived, her husband off on a hunting trip with buddies...or getting lap dances at some bar in the City, Stacey wasn't totally clear on which, but she cool with it either way. The girls all looked amazing as always...and let me tell you, I have been BFFs with Allison for 30 years...and I have known the other three since we were 14 years old...and they are still some of the loveliest faces I have ever seen...but forget looks, this crowd could not be more fun-loving...Stacey alone makes me look like a boring hausfrau, and when she is with Bridget, forget it...just pull up a seat and watch the show. Good thing Allison and Casey -- no shrinking violets, mind you -- are there to bring the ruckus down to a shout. So anyway, Casey looked amazing as always in a fun little cocktail dress with some peek-a-boo yellow tulle underneath (I rocked "the shoes" again...what else is new?). Bridget was wearing her Mom's 70's era hip-length black mink that was so Mary Tyler Moore I wanted to tear it off of her and run away...and Allison was kind of channeling an updated Chrissy Snow with her bare-shouldered disco jumpsuit...and Stacey was sporting some serious black patent leather holiday shoes, though Bridget felt that the fuschia bow on my shoes rendered them slightly less porno than Stacey's...hmmm... good or bad? Not sure either of us was going for porno, but I am pretty certain I could have found a few fans of that particular look scattered about the party....you know, the ones with the prim wives...

So finally all together and of course we had fun and we reveled and we sampled the apps and we drank the drinks and we caught up with friends. But you know how sometimes there is this one random party-goer who unexpectedly makes your night...who just becomes the life of your party? I love nights like that...I love hitting a wedding or a dinner party or post-work cocktails and finding this character there -- a groomsman or gay boyfriend or barfly -- brightening up the night, doling out compliments and hilarious stories and entertaining the room. And to be 100% honest, when you have Stacey and Allison and Bridget and Casey and me all together, it can be a challenge to a) get a word in edgewise and b) make any kind of impact on a conversation, let alone an evening...

But that didn't intimidate Al...Uncle Al, that is...

Uncle Al, Big Tom's younger, flashier brother...and let's just say that Al totally brought it on Saturday night...no shy wallflower uncle attending his little niece's Christmas cocktail party...no way! What a breath of fresh air...he was all dapper and decked out in the full-on Christmas plaid vest and festive gold tie under his sport coat...and he must have detected our act from across the room because he made his way over to our little group (husbands? I don't see any husbands...) and quickly became our own special little ego-booster and BFF...and my friends made certain that I was the butt of the jokes in response to Al's fun flirtiness, cluing him in that I am the easiest touch for dudes with AARP cards and silvery sideburns...those b*tches have me totally figured out. So we became fast friends with Al...and we girls were all giggly, batting our eyelashes at his sweet compliments and funny comments...and in our reveling it quickly became clear that Al was the party's 55-plus version of we ladies...wicked as all get-out! At one point Bridget and Al went out for a surreptitious smoke while Stacey and I chatted up Al's 23 year old son/wingman... and when they came back we learned that he took her for a spin in his new Benz or vintage Mustang or whatever it was (when I asked Bridget via text the make and model while writing this all down she texted back: "I haven't the foggiest!"...she didn't even recall the ride...just like an Angel...). So we're all laughing and enjoying the Rose champagne and the little brie and cranberry puffs and whatever else...when either Stacey or Bridget or both, not sure, touched Al's bicep and all I hear over the party buzz is this loud declaration:

"Oh my god, Uncle Al, you are totally ripped!"

And as I busted out laughing, I thought....There we go, making a spectacle yet again...

The other party-goers around us stopped mid-conversation to focus on the action as Stacey and Bridget inspect Al's arms and then shoulders...and I don't know, maybe the glutes too, those saucy little minxes...(ok, I am kidding about the glutes...). And they are saying back and forth to one another things like: "I can't believe how muscular he is..." and "Did you feel his shoulders yet...?" And then they are nodding appreciatively: "Very impressive, Al..." And as I stand to the side taking in the scene, I just find this whole thing beyond hysterical because my girls completely do not care who sees or hears or what they think...and I love that quality in them because it is totally genuine...and beyond entertaining.

And let's be honest, I am thinking a large percentage of the guys in the room were just a teeny bit jealous of all the attention now directed at Al in his Christmasy vest and gaggle of groupies in cool fur coats and sexy holiday shoes, all laughing like a bunch of drunk bikers or mental patients. Oh, and you could not miss the ice cold look some of those prim traders' wives eyes were shooting at their wistful husbands as they laughed along with us...priceless!

Ok...so maybe it's time to call it a night, round up the husbands and give Uncle Al back to his girlfriend (!!), whom we learned quite late in the evening, had been at the party all along...!!!! (she was a doll by the way and in good natured fashion she simply rolled her eyes at our collective shenanigans...). So as Allison and Kevin and Rob and, later, Bridget and Brian, gathered their belongings and said their goodbyes, Stacey and I sat in front of the fire and recapped the night, taking in Casey and Marty's beautiful home and lovely guests and incredible graciousness... And we pondered how much silly fun we always have when we are together...and how great it is to be brought back to 18 again...and to enjoy the night surrounded by old friends...and to be making new friends on top of that. So we wondered when we would see each other again...when we would enjoy those familiar fun and games and good spirit and love of the friends who knew you before you were a grown-up, a mom, a wife, a professional...a responsible being (debatable, I know...)...the friends who can make you laugh in one word or less. And we decided we should not wait too long....

So....

Dinner tonight with Sally and Stacey at Spice Market....three naughty little Christmas Angels making the scene among the Meatpacking District's tragic wannabe hipsters and displaced stock brokers....And you know, we got our fix of one another as we lit up the night over there on Little West 12th...perfection. And you know, I think the only thing that could have made the night better is if there was an Uncle Al who happened to be enjoying an Elderberry infused martini among the throngs pressed up against the bar....waiting for us...

Photos:

1. Already ensconced in our corner topping one another quip by quip, (clockwise) Bridget, Allison, me, Stacey and Casey...next we attacked the buffet table...

2. Stacey and I are quite obviously conspiring...

3. (left to right) Stacey, Allison, Bridget and me....looking festive and cheery...pre-ruckus...

4. Casey being felt up by Bridget as Stacey eggs on the fun...who doesn't love a surprise copped feel?

5. Stacey, me and Bridget with our new bestie and hot tamale, Uncle Al...my big fat head covering up his celebratory threads...bummer.

6. Bridget demonstrating her groping and ruckus-making technique on me...I suspect there were daggers from the prim wives across the room...and there is Brian joining the fun....

7. Stacey, me and Sally...fun with old friends among the wannabe hipsters and a flood of displaced stock brokers at Spice Market...

I Think I'd Maybe Definitely Rather...

So the excitement of the season is upon us...you know, that post-Thanksgiving rush to shop and party and revel and enjoy...and it's still early on enough that the carols and the frantic pace and the crowded stores and and the ingesting of too many calories have yet to begin their assault on my senses and mood (well, except for the other night during the annual Rock Center tree lighting when all I wanted was to walk across town for a cocktail with Amber...and it took me 25 minutes to get from my office on 46th and Sixth to Whiskey Blue on Lex and 50th because of the yahoos and out-of-towners ambling along too slowly and messing with my plans...). At any rate, thankfully I haven't slipped into Scrooge-mode quite yet...because I love a

good time...and there are so many great moments over the next few weeks...the Arcola Country Club family celebration, which was this past Sunday afternoon with face painting and magicians and Santa and balloon animals...and at which I drank 3 flutes of champagne and then winked at one of the geriatric members whom I caught admiring my shoes (they are a hit with all ages!)...and then Will dropped his new table pinball machine on the guy's foot...love it! Anyway...also upcoming is Amber's cookies and cocktails/secrets and lies party...Casey and Marty's inaugural all-night Christmas bash...Ann and Chris's annual open house....the church ladies Dirty Santa gift swap party...my office dinner/boozefest (Rob Roys all around!) at Beacon...and of course it's pjs and mom jewels for New Year's and Ellie's 10th birthday.

But for me the season really started with the annual kickoff to Christmas with the college alumni posse of New York City -- this year on a warm and toasty (thanks global warming!) evening, making my bare-leggedness all the more acceptable....and wearing "the shoes" all the more appropriate and festive. And speaking of holiday wardrobe, the men all looked dapper and merry rocking their Christmas ties -- TL in the traditional red and white stripe, Big sporting a brand new look this year with the green "Snow Crab" from Vineyard Vines...and I didn't really take notice of all the others, but they probably looked good too... So the evening was upbeat and celebratory and drama free, always a bonus. But, well...ok, so, I admit it...there was the point I knocked a giant pint glass over onto the mahogany bar and in-turn the hard wood floor...and it crashed so loudly and ferociously that the entire place stopped and the Class of '76 whooped and clapped and made fun of me relentlessly...Jago saying afterwards: "Just like a

Stonehill girl..." Though I vehemently denied responsibility and claimed the unattractive she-male bartendress knocked it over as she handed me a beer...she didn't...and no one really believed me...but I stuck with the story. So as for snafus and shenanigans, the crashing pint glass was really it... After the party there were drinks and dinner with my besties...extra drinks after the party was over had me arriving late to dinner, then only getting a brownie and a few sips of TL's leftover Malbec before I walked back across town in my four-inch heels with Kathie and received a come-on from the ConEd man on 41st and Park. This all transpired as I scarfed my very first street dog in no less than 15 years...nothing hotter than a chick in party clothes pounding nitrite-laden junk food...or so I hear. And the night came to a close...

But then, to top it all off, the morning after I received a traffic

ticket for cell phone usage while driving on Central Park West as I debriefed and downloaded the events of the evening with TL. He's a very bad influence....lucky I wasn't arrested. The highly trained traffic cop, who probably should have been arresting a mugger or a turnstile jumper and not harassing me as I gossiped, didn't buy my "spacey suburban mom" act and gifted me a $130 "first offense" fine...just in time for Christmas. 'Tis the Season!

So...a fitting kickoff...and the weekend had barely even begun...

On Friday night the gourmet gals had our final gathering of 2009 at Sharon's house...

so we all crowded around her festively decorated living room eating and covering the week's happenings -- as you can imagine, Tiger Woods and Meredith Baxter comments were flying around the room like germs at the YMCA tot drop...(trademark, Trish J...). Ok, so, regarding Tiger -- why are we judging, I ask...ok, so his taste in and the class level of his side-slices are questionable, but living in a bubble can

cloud one's judgment, my loves...And in touching on Meredith Baxter (not literally...) I argued that, after three failed marriages, I might also take up with a female construction contractor...at least that broad can probably fix a leaky faucet and put in a master suite over the garage...and maybe she has other talents of which we have no knowledge...I am just saying. And we debated these current events and scandals as we sampled our dishes inspired by our own family Christmas Traditions...the cheesy oniony toasts, my offering (not only

are they perfect with a little Veuve Clicquot, but interspersed with Marisa's fresh mozzarella, they made a fine and delicious hangover cure...yes, you see, that street dog and Malbec did me in the night prior...or maybe it was catching the late-night showing of the premiere episode of Jersey Shore on MTV that made me sick...but please do call me "S-Woww" from now on...). So as we threw back all the yummy selections...ADP's sausage-broccoli rabe pasta (which reminded me of the time I offered my sweet little darling seconds by saying: "more broccoli rabe?" and he goes: "I'm Will..."...I laugh my a** off every time I think of that...) and Sharon's pierogies and of course (it is Christmas after all...) we ended the meal with cake and pie and Suse's famous chocolate fondue -- girl talk, chocolate dipped bananas and pretzel rods...does it get any better...??

Yes! Because as is her way, ADP suggested we play "Would You Rather" while we ate. You know that game...the players make up these ridiculous circumstances and give one another the opportunity to debate the answer...why they would choose one difficult or ridiculous or morally ambiguous situation over

another. And I love this game and games like it, especially when I am with my girlfriends....I mean, I play it all the time with my kids when we are in the car and they are always saying stuff like: "Mom, would you rather get hit by lighting

and die or wear yellow everyday for the rest of your life?" And every time I explain that no matter what, I will always choose the alternative to death...and then their next question is: "Mom, would you rather go to pick-up wearing only a bathing suit or get crushed to death by a gorilla..." Come to think of it, maybe this is one case in which death would triumph. Anyway, thankfully this time I was playing with adults and expected that the questions would be rife with moral dilemma and intrigue...Each of us took a scrap of paper and came up with our own "Would You Rather" entry....I wrote two, because after I wrote my first, I thought of one I preferred...and because that's how I roll. So then we each chose a scrap from the pile and went around the table reading, and inspiring debate.

Right off the bat the first question rounded right back to the weekly happenings with: "Would you rather be Tiger Woods' mistress or his wife..." Ha!! Believe it or not, even with all the paying off and leveraging and gifting and deal making that is going

on...neither option excited any of us much....and not because of the moral issues surrounding Tiger's current situation, but honestly because we agreed that no matter how many billions Tiger has, not a one of us could muster up even a marginal attraction to the poor b*st*rd...not cute at all. I mean, not that he seems to be suffering any problems finding gorgeous romantic partners, but, well, he's not a hit among our set apparently. I know -- what a bunch of shallow b*tches we can be, right? Well, at least we aren't gold diggers.

So we went on.... "Would you rather...."

Be in a relationship with someone who had horrible dragon breath OR someone whose nose whistled when they breathed? All I can really remember about this debate is that I said, "Well at least you could give him Velamints and hope for the best..." and the Velamints reference just cracked Joanne and Trish up...and I told them my dad always loved those (he does NOT have halitosis, by the way...just bad taste in candy...). Growing up there were always packages of the black licorice Velamints on the brass table in my parents' front foyer. So Velamints I could live

with.....Marry next for love OR money? Ok, all you cynical guys out there...the women virtually all said "for love." Then there were those of us who said the only reason we would ever get married again is if we needed health insurance...such romantics, huh?.....Spend a night in an inner city homeless shelter OR live with a hoarder? No contest after a few of us had seen the season premiere of Hoarders on A&E just this week -- ten years of garbage piled up in this toothless hag's living room, including the petrified carcasses of two dead cats. Swear to g*d!.....Be a wh*re OR a bore? Come on, that one was easy....no one likes a bore.....

Oh, there were more...and of course, we were partaking of the libations in full-force during this exercise, which in turn, had us howling with laughter far beyond the true hilariousness of it all...and as you can imagine, this made the night even more fun-filled...just how it always should be with your friends... And you know, so maybe some of our "Would You Rathers" may have been laced just a teensy-weensy bit with superiority or judgey-ness...and maybe that's not so much filled with the Christmas spirit...nor does it belie the true joy we had in being together, the fun we have with eachother and the love we share with one another... But come on, it's fun to giggle at the foibles of mankind every once in a while...like here, how about these:

Would you rather...

Be a tree-lighting yahoo OR get stuck among them along Fifth Avenue in the walk across town to share a Christmas cocktail with one of your dearest friends?

Stand in the corner and quietly sip chardonnay OR smash a giant pint glass on the floor of a bar crowded with people who know you?

Be so late for dinner that you have to eat a street dog on the way home OR miss out completely on seeing your besties to kick off the Christmas season?

Get tipsy on champagne and offer a fleeting thrill to an octogenarian

golfer OR be a grown-up and try not to laugh when your baby boy

drops his gift on said octogenarian's foot?

Get a ticket for talking on your cell phone while driving OR completely miss out on the post-party download?

Miss the late night replay of the Jersey Shore premiere OR be cured of

your hangover with some

champagne and cheese and bread and a snappy

game of "Would You Rather..." with your girlfriends?

You know...I stand by the options I chose this week (or stepped a**-backwards into...)...and hey, I think any of the above is preferable to finding out from Larry King or Nancy Grace or Us Weekly or TMZ.com that you are actually one of nine of your married, billionaire sugar daddy's pole-dancing side slices...ouch!

Joy to the World...Joy to You and Me...

love ya! S-Woww

Photos:

1. The first of many this season...how many days 'til New Years?

2. Ellie and me at the Arcola Country Club party...she in painted face, and I in my giant fake diamond-cross...aka "mom jewelry"...

3. I walked all the way across town in those babies for half a brownie and some Malbec residue...and I'd do it all over again!

4. RJP and some Brooklyn Lager fill in for the she-male bartendress and empty pint glass...but if I told you this was a shot of the actual moment, you would have bought it...no?

5. That poor woman is being mugged while the NYPD has the whole force out looking for me and my rogue hand-held cell phone...

6. ADP toasting with something warm and alcoholic...all horny like a Reindeer...

7. TJ brings me my order...all I need is some fresh mozzarella and the street dog hangover is history...

8. ADP, Janice, Tracy, Kerry and Robyn a few weeks back...the pre-Season gourmets...

9. Who hasn't slept with Tiger? Not cute by the way...did you notice that?

10. Velamints make a comeback....

11. Dearest Amber and I, sharing a Christmas cocktail during the Tree Lighting mayhem...

12. Will clutches his table pinball game...mere seconds before defending my honor by wacking the old coot with it...

13: Kerry, Me, Suse and Lisa...wouldn't you rather always be surrounded by your favorite friends? Yes!