The Wedding

I don’t like going to weddings. People are too happy and in love and that’s a recipe for disaster where I’m concerned. But I wouldn’t have missed this one for anything because it was Joy Behar’s lovely and sweet daughter Eve's wedding, who I adore. Whom I adore? Joy used to teach English so I'll probably hear about this.

Italians really know how to throw a party. The best food, a romantic setting, an amazing band and of course, Italians have no problem with anyone wearing black so we all looked thin.

It was held at Chelsea Piers, overlooking the Hudson river.



The chalice in the middle of the table was handmade by Eve. Right before the ceremony, a huge sailboat pulled up next to us and floated out onto the Hudson.


Eve being walked down the aisle by her proud father Joe Behar.

Mr. and Mrs. Al Scotti

The bride and groom posing for pictures and listening to the band.

Italians also know how to dance and a few women speared me like a shish kabob with their stilettos so this is what my feet looked like the next day. The wedding was 10 days ago. The bruises are only now starting to fade. The gash will probably be there until my own wedding and we all know how far away that will be.

Eve Behar is a gifted ceramist. This pot was recently shown in a New York gallery and singled out for its spectacular design. Visit her website and see for yourself.

Eve handmade over 190 vases for her guests. When you walked into the reception area, there was a table with bowls filled with Jade Roses. You located your rose and then found your table, which was written on the card attached to the rose. Each place setting had a vase. You could choose your vase, put your rose in it and that was your seat. Or you could move the vase you chose to the seat you wanted. Clever, romantic and creative.

And now this is where the story turns ugly.

I chose a pale green vase to match my kitchen and dining room, which are forest green. I stuck my rose in my vase and thought no more about it. One of my table mates chose the pink one in the above photo. I have no PINK in my entire apartment, unless you look in my thong drawer.

As the evening wore on, I looked over at my table and everyone had gone. It was getting late so I went to collect my things and found this:

My rose had been discarded on the table. It was dead, though. And my green vase was gone. The pink one was sitting empty about 18 inches away. Gee, I said to myself, I wonder who could have done this?????????????????? The next day I saw my table-mate who had chosen the pink vase. I asked him if he had stolen my vase. He replied, "No, I stole the other woman's vase." What a class act. He didn't even realize he had answered 'yes' to my question.

So this is the thief: Although I might be wrong and it could have been this person:

But then again I could be entirely mistaken and it might have been this person:
Right about now Joy is saying to Steve, “My God, isn’t Soro ever going to let that go?” And my answer to that is, uh……no. Home Sweet Home.....only in Hollywood would we name our airports after a comedian.

End of chat.