and may all your Christmases be white....

As I've mentioned in the past, I just love Lisa Kogan. She basically lives the life of my dreams: She's a successful writer, she lives in Manhattan and her daughter's name is Jules, which, let's face it, somehow sounds British and regal. Oh, and one more tiny detail: she works for Oprah. So jealous.

So, anywho, a few months back, Lisa wrote an essay for 'O' magazine titled The Men I Could Love. The jist of the column was this: If something were to ever happen to her long-time beau, Johannes, there were a few lucky men who, after a suitable period of mourning (of course), she believed she could fall crazy in love with. While her list of heartthrobs consisted of Desmond Tutu (aka Archbishop McDreamy), John Ritter, Anthony Bourdain and Steve Martin, I've decided that the #1 dreamboat at the top of my "If Anson ever chokes on a brownie" list is ... Bing Crosby.

Oh Bing ... I do believe I could sit on my sofa and listen to him sing "Snow" every winter evening for the rest of my days. No matter how cheesy the tune, there's just something about him that makes me melt. Maybe it's his piercing blue eyes or that voice that somehow makes me tear up and smile all at the same time. Seriously, what a heartbreaker.

Anyway, it's because of this deep love that there's nothing I want more this holiday season than to see White Christmas on Broadway. The grand musical numbers, the sequince and fur-lined gowns, the random ballerinas pirouetting in front of the Christmas tree—ah, doesn't it sound wonderful? I'm smiling just thinking about it.

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