We begin in the kitchen with the usual vasoline-smeared-on-lenses look with Barbra Streissand making a special guest appearance in Sandra's kitchen. Oh, sorry, it's just SLop with a half-assed looking crimped and bleached hair. She babbles about having a classy booze and dinner party and we cut to a mini-cake with a ridiculously too-large disco mirror ball on top of it. Hey! This is that disco theme we saw on ET last Xmas! We return form the opening credits to more of the tipsy-cam ™ as SLop declares this ep is "all about cocktails, tiarrahs, and bowties'. She removes some of the pre-chive roasted potatoes from the oven and sets them aside so they "set up", making sure to emphasise this point for some reason, then makes some more, claiming that people will be scarfing these things down, by cutting some potatoes into strips, except she's really slicing them lengthwise into disks. Moron. She puts the brownish potato disks into a bowl and drizzles them with olive oil and salt. She then tells us to add fresh chives because she prefers the fresh to dried (I kid you not!) and then pretends to chop the chives. Thanks to a quick cut, there is suddenly a huge mound of chopped chives on the countertop! She puts the chives into the bowl and gives them a "good toss" by using a spoon to flip over two slices of potato and puts them onto a baking sheet, adding that the oil will keep them from sticking. She tells us to put the potato disks into the oven for 2 minutes at 400 degrees, but I doubt they'll be done that fast. She then makes a sour cream and horseradish sauce for the topping, reminding us that we shouldn't use too much horseradish. SLop tells us we don't have to buy expensive caviar because no one will notice and the flavours will melt together and they make the potatoes classy. She dabs the potatoes with a little bit of the sour cream mixture and then tops them off with the cheap caviar. I am laughing too hard at this point to hear her reasoning, but I think she said she wanted to do this swawwwray on the cheap and didn't think anyone could tell the difference. She then uses a plastic knife because a metal spoon would make it taste funny. I suspect that's just the cheap caviar, sweetie. She dusts the plate with more chives and exits stage left just in time for the commercial break. We return from commercial to an empty and silent kitchen. Aroused from her drunken slumber, SLop enters stage right with a can and a couple flavour packets in hand and tells us that she's going to show us how to make a herb salt crusted prime rib like you get a those fancy restaurants. To a large bowl of kosher salt, she adds a packet of Italian dressing and marvels over all the herbs and seasonings in it, adding how expensive it would be to buy them fresh and separately. Like a cat in a litter pan, she covers up the packet contents in the bowl and adds a a container of egg whites and some water. SLop then grabs a bottle of wine and empties it over the prime rib. Correction. It's a wine-bottle sized bottle of Worcestershire sauce. She lovingly massages the sauce into the meat, wipes her hands on a paper towel, and then sprinkles a generous portion of "seasoned pepper" over the ribs to "infuse it with flavour". We suddenly cut to a pink stunt roast with a thermometer sticking out of it. She prepares a bed of salt in the bottom of an aluminum foil lined baking dish and covers it with the salt mixture. With a gleeful "Me washie handsies! Me washie handsies!", she finally washes her hands, reminding us to use soap after handling meat. Snatching the thermometer from the stunt meat, she tells us to cook it for about 12 minutes per pound at 425 degrees, then tells us to cook it for about 14-16 minutes per pound. Huh? Sandra then places a saucepan halfway between two burners and empties a can of beef broth and a package of onion soup mix into it and tells us to let it simmer. Without moving the pan or turning on the stove, she whisks the "faux jus" with a fork. For once, SLop has let her meat rest but inadequately describes the juices as being sucked right back into the meat. SLop tries to use a knife to crack the salt shell, but then ends up using Brycer's stupid toy rolling pin. OK, so why did she add that seasoning to the salt crust, again? She puts the meat onto a cutting board and attempts to slice the way-too-pink-for-my-comfort meat into rough chunks. As we head to commercial, we get to hear the extended version of her bumper music as she struggles with her meat. We return from the commercial break with a glamour shot of the champagne cake with a mini disco ball on top. Sandra enters stage right with the now familiar tub of white icing and champagne extract and claims her girlfriend makes this all the time. She puts some white cake mix into a bowl but only adds the egg whites, adding you can use store bought egg whites too. She then adds some vegetable oil and champagne, adding that it has to be a dry champagne. As she pours it into the bowl, she calls it "sparkling wine". She mixes it with a hand blender, warning us to use the lowest setting so it doesn't go flying all over the kitchen (hmmm), then puts it into a baking pan. Using a three inch biscuit cutter (you can use an empty pineapple can if you want), she punches out six smaller cakes and sets the scraps aside to make trifle later. What's wrong, are twinkies not good enough for your trifle now? She plops one of the mini-cakes onto an icing pedestal (instead of a plate on an inverted bowl for once) and ices it with the frosting embellished with the extract. Once she is finished, she dusts it with sanding sugar and some silver dragees (hmm, aren't those non-edible?) and tops it with a lime-size disco mirror ball. It looks as ridiculous as it sounds. As we head out to commercial, she tries to keep her composure as she announces her cocktail and tablesscape are up next. During the commercial break, I see a Food Network ad which features a quick clip of Snadra in a green dress with a matching *tini chowing down on a chocolate-dipped strawberry like Shamu eating a fish at Sea World. Ewwww. When we return from commercial, we can tell by the graphic on the screen that it's now "Sandra's Cocktail Time!". SLop enters, stage right, with this strangely ecstatic look on her face as she shakes two bottles of red booze in her hands like maracas as she sing-songs "It's cocktail time!!". She tells us she likes this one because you can make it year-round, but loves it on the holidays because it is egg-nog based. I have no clue what she is babbling on about until she reveals that using vanilla ice cream means you can have it any time of year. Whatever. She adds a scoop of vanilla ice cream, some egg nog (one can substitute one of those vanilla yogurt drinks), a "little bit" of brandy (glug glug glug), and a "little bit" of amaretto (glug glug glug). SLop offers up a serving tip. As she struggles with sticking a martini glass of epic proportions onto a plate of sugar, she tells us to soak a paper towel with water or champagne. According to her, this makes the glasses coated just enough. She then pours the rest of the drink in the blender into some of the champagne glasses in her "champagne glass bowkay" that will serve as her tablescape centerpiece. Half contain the "crystal cocktail" and the rest have champagne. If this isn't the proof that one needs to have an intervention and taken directly to the Betty Ford Clinic, I do not know what is. Incidentally, when I stopped the tape to get a better look at this monstrosity of a centerpiece, I caught Sandra leering over the top of the it like Linda Blair in The Exercise. Holy crap! Sandra then picks up her drink and a cheap-looking silver box with a hinged lid and strolls over to her tablescape. Umm, aren't you forgetting something? She then procedes to tell us that she took some cheap cardboard boxes with aluminum foil glued to it, filled it with "silver filler" (ie., Xmas tree tinsel), a baseball-sized disco mirror ball, and a "computer-generated invitation", and then mailed them out as invitations to her guests, mentioning that they only cost a couple dollars to make. At this point, I feel profound pity for those poor souls who are on her party list and continuously receive these bizarre things in the mail from her. Hmm, I bet it costs more to mail those invitations than to make them. Anyhow, I'd like to add at this point that this tablescape easily rivals the "Poo and Pee Party" one for retinal burn-out -- everything in the room is white or coated with silver, and there are various small white (natch) candles all over the place. This, combined with the Vaseline on the camera lens, makes it very difficult to see what's going on. Did I mention there's about half a dozen disco mirror balls of various sizes hanging on varying lengths of silver chain throughout the room? SLop then shows us her centerpiece, which for some reason is now three multiple-tiered tea servers with lit white votive candles. So much for that "booze bowkay"... As the camera pans the tablescape, I notice that each plate has a small black and white photo in a silver picture frame and a folded card with initials bedazzled into it for place settings. Ugh. She then shows us how she took a white tablecloth and placed a sheer silver mylar sheet over it for the table before telling us to Keep it simple, keep it sensational, and keep it sparkly. -- WARNING!!! Use of these recipes may be hazardous to your health, food budget, standing in your community and liver function. Use at your own risk!! We assume no liability from any illness or injury sustained while eating the "food" or being exposed to crapass tablescapes. And no, we're not sure where she grew up either. The Cordon Bleu disavows any knowlege of Miss Lee.