simonLA cotton candy

Hotel Sofitel is one of the chicest hotels in Beverly Hills. Too bad they have about 18 gorgeous employees whose sole job is to greet you on your way in, because you'll be paying their salaries when booking a room. But it's classy all the same.

simonLA is their in-house restaurant, and if you haven't heard of their abusive junk food platter, it comes with: cotton candy, caramel corn, donuts, cookies, a peanut butter sundae, cupcakes, ding dongs, Rice Krispies treats and SnoBalls.

We were too stuffed to take on the junk food platter by the end of our meal, but the chef sent over Hugh Hefner's favorite: a billowy mountain of cotton candy - on the house. It would appear that I'm not paying the salary of those 18 gorgeous hotel greeters for nothing!

carb heaven

Openly judging people (yay!) at theTop Chef party

Too many people start their sentences with, "I don't want to be judgmental, but..." But what? You would like to judge? Of course you would! Judging is what stops kids from taking that candy from strangers and women from going home with guys who unbutton their shirts past the third button. Judging is healthy, it's exhilarating....unless you have to do it on camera. In front of a crowd.

Antonia Lofaso

...Yeaaa. I was called up as a Top Chef judge at the L.A. All-Star event. Jamie Lauren and Antonia Lofaso were battling it out over their stoves as us judges sat on stage. As the girls fried cod and improvised with cantaloupe, chilies and other goods, we watched the clock counting down, sipped our bottled water and answered questions into the mic. I mentioned I was a food critic for Boulevard and other magazines, and Antonia snapped, "Oh great! Just what I need - a food critic on the panel!"

Jamie Lauren

But she was all joy and sweetness compared to Jamie Lauren. It wasn't her tattoos that made her fierce. Associating "bad people" with tattoos is so 80's. It was her Courtney Love aura - she was all rock and roll, razor-tongued irreverence. 

In the end though, I had to choose between the two. My choice would have been secret were it not for Monsieur Cordon Bleu - the chef judge next to me who divulged who picked who. Not cool. I'm a people-pleaser, and when it was announced that I chose Antonia, I shrunk in my seat to avoid Jamie's gaze. 

Me & Monsieur Cordon Bleu

 Later, as I posed for photos with the stars of the show, Jamie Lauren slipped me a headshot that read, "You Suck, bad Judgement" 

I love her.

She hates me!

Both Antonia and Jamie have restaurants here in L.A. Based on the tastiness they served me, I highly recommend hitting them up! Antonia's Black Market dominates the night scene in Studio City and Jamie's Vodvil just opened in the Fairfax District. She said the ambiance "is like your grandmother's basement," and will serve up Americana kitsch; chicken pot pie, pigs in a blanket, etc. Best of all, it's game night every night, and I'm not talking sports!

Jamie's dish, left & Antonia's on the right

You may even see me there, groveling for forgiveness and enjoying the abuse.

Celeb Stalking at it's Worst

Many complain that celebs should stop griping about the paparazzi, as it's "part of the deal." But with anything involving privacy, there is always a line. I can't tell you how many interviews I've read where stars sadly lament not being able to go to the beach anymore, in fear of having their thighs splashed across the pages of a magazine, photos zoomed in on the cellulite with arrows pointing to the offending visage. It makes me sad that the ocean has been taken away from them. It's one of the biggest redeeming factors in Los Angeles. No one is sure when the tabloids got that out of hand, but it's unfortunate for them and shame on us.

It isn't only the magazine's fault. It's an issue of supply and demand, and if petty gossip didn't fly off the shelves as fast as it did, cellulite zoom-in centerfolds wouldn't happen. As if celebrity worship didn't make us look pathetic enough, there's OMGICU - (OMG I see you) a new celebrity stalking page where everyday people can drop very important information, like seeing Courtney Thorne Smith pumping gas, or David Spade buying saline solution at Rite-Aid. Because you know, there is a real public need or whatever.

Tears.

Seriously?

There's a website called Hot Chicks Plunging their Toilets?