Wifed Up.

When you’re schlepping for a shoebox (aka a NY apt), you gotta step into JACK’S WIFE FREDA once, twice or five times for a shvitzing TIMEOUT. Like my whip IN THE YEAR 2000, this spot is bangin like a ’86 Chrysler Lebaron w/ a couch front seat & a FRESH PAINT JOB. The beets benny, the cauliflower, their hot sauce…yeah buddy.

Trash Masters.

When your down ass homie wants to spend her bachelorette party at the Indy 500, you fasten that rat tail, bust out your white trash finest, double up on BIG RED & show up to GET DOWN. There’s a FIRST TIME for everything & this epic tailgate checked too many boxes (& buttholes) to count. We came, we saw & we trash mastered the shit outta the Indy 500 with 300,000 of our closest FRIENDS. #ratzpack


Mountain Goat’n.

GIRL AND THE GOAT ain’t no joke. Chef STEPHANIE IZARD knows WHAT’S UP. Just like my cholesterol, her menu is off the charts (triple deuces baby). Ready to do WORK, I mountain goat’d my way through:

  • hamachi crudo w/ crisp pork belly (pictured) – bomb 
  • lamb tongue – bomb
  • goat carpaccio w/ smoked trout roe – bomb
  • ham frites w/ cheddar beer sauce – bomb
  • fried oysters – supes bomb

This girl was left sat-is-fied.

girl goat


My SUGAR tits turning 10 meant one thing – time to throw a SURPRISE Real Housewives themed party for my baby gurl. MY BOO had no idea what hit her & was completely shocked when the Giudices walked her down the red carpet & into the arms of Erika Jayne (yours truly) & her SUPA DUPA FLY hoochies from Bev Hills, Hotlanta and NY. Andy Cohen, Mini Manservants, shot ski & Aviva’s “leg” were all in tow. Turtle time turnt up times 10. Pat the puss.