The Selby has in recent months become a household name amongst creatives. Put simply, it’s the blog of shutterbug Todd Selby, which features an expansive library of images of creatives in their homes (think everyone from Saved's Scott Campbell, Nylon's Marvin Jarrett, and scribe Tom Wolfe, to The Last Magazine's Magnus Berger and model Erin Wasson). And now, not only can you look into the lives of the fashion, music, and art world elite, you can buy their wares via the site as well.

Why does an asshat like Bernie Madoff sit swaddled in his Park Avenue penthouse while Christian Wölffer lies lifeless in a Rio morgue? Wölffer's fatal boating accident last week, which swept through the wine biz over New Year's, was a particularly brutal brand of fate. But there you have it. Bid farewell to one of the wine biz's favorite sons. Wölffer, owner of Wölffer Estate Vineyard in Sagaponack and an East End wine pioneer, was swimming in the ocean near Rio de Janeiro when a speed boat skimmed over him on New Year's Eve.

Hotel deals are starting to get good -- even in New York, where it typically costs more than your month's rent to stay for a few days. Currently, there are nine hotels participating in a "Buy Two, Get One Free" bonanza, good from January 9 through February 27. The following hotels are hoping this deal will entice you to come and stay for a while:

1. The Carlyle (Upper East Side) - Stuffy Euro aristocrats plus rootless American nouveau riche equals 23 grand pianos, a highball, and a mammoth room fee.
2. Jumeirah Essex House (Upper West Side) - Art Deco, Central Park West, Broadway, it's all here.
3. Loews Regency Hotel (Midtown East) - Modern yet fancy, close to the museums and lots of shopping, this is the spot where John Edwards starting cheating on his wife, so you know it's got to be somewhat good.

Looking like a mutt among prissy Oscar-groomed purebreds, Slumdog Millionaire has been a breath of fresh air for those who’ve already tired of predicable epic award-baiting pastiches (I'm looking at you, Seven Pounds). And while helmer Danny Boyle and his razor-sharp direction is mostly responsible for the flick's widespread appeal, similarly winsome are the newcomers whose understated performances keep the storyline brisk and smart. Freida Pinto's performance as damsel-in-distress has helped the former model make that tenuous leap into acting. Here she sounds off on Slumdog's success, the fickle nature of destiny and a yen to star opposite Johnny Depp someday.

If this clip of Barack Obama reviewing the soul food restaurant Dixie Kitchen and Bait Shop is indicative of how he will run his administration, we might be in trouble. The clip is from a local Chicago restaurant review show called Check, Please!, and it never aired because the conversation was "unbalanced," with Obama dominating the other guests. That kind of thing is not going to make for some happy advisers come cabinet meeting time. It sucks not being able to get a word in.

Leave your worries and name at the door ...

1. Molotov's (The Haight) - A dark-demoned bar with loads of local cred as a real drinker’s drinking hole.
2. Vertigo (Tenderloin) - A boozing kind of bar. Magnetic dance floor for hot dates with personality deficits.
3. Phone Booth (Mission District) - Mixed local flavor includes the artsy underemployed and neighborhood Granddads. An ideal place to drink a lot because all drinks are cheap.

"White-collar boxing is keeping Gleason's open," owner Bruce Silverglade had said. Gleason’s motto is, “You don't have to smell good to train here." Despite the fact that he’s a graduate of Penn State, is well off, and comes from a good family, 25-year-old native New Yorker Tor Hamer is not only the country's number-one ranked amateur super-heavyweight, but also the anti-Rocky (sorry, Philly). Towering over his posse (preppy kids from the UES, the Gossip Girl types) at 6’2’’ and pushing 230 pounds, this charmer with a baby face (still intact -- he’s yet to get hurt, not even the boxer-trademark black eye) has a misleading mug for a bona fide boxing champ and party boy. Hamer’s other homes, besides the ring (he trains six days a week, for three hours straight) are “exclusive” nightclubs: Bungalow, Tenjune, Southside, and the Box. His longtime friend is Southside’s resident DJ, Nick Cohen, who’s dating Keith Richards’ daughter. "You’d think I ‘d get laid more often,” Hamer says.

So, you've heard us beat the passport drum here and here because of the new, tighter regulations to be implemented in June of this year. However, for those living close to the Caribbean, the Canadian, or the Mexican borders -- you Washington Staters, Californians, Texans, Miamians, people of Buffalo, NY -- who like to jaunt back and forth over the border, there's a cheaper, more compact option. It's called the Passport Card, and it's the size of a driver's license; like a license, it holds all of your relevant identifying information, plus a microchip that allows instant access to a government "big brother" database all about you personal info and many misdeeds. The cards are good for 10 years and cost $45, though if you already have a passport book and you want the card as well, it'll only run you $20. The major downside is that the card's not good for air travel. But it sure is portable. Click here for more information.

Liskula Cohen, a model who has posed for Armani and Versace as well as gracing the cover of Vogue, is suing Google over comments made by a blog hosted on the server. Specifically, the anonymous blogger in question dubbed Cohen the “#1 skanky superstar” following an incident in the bar at the Hudson Hotel where the doorman “was jailed after smashing her in the face with a vodka bottle,” says the New York Daily News. The site went on to call the model “a desperate ‘fortysomething’ who ‘may have been hot 10 years ago’." Oh, yeah, and "desperation seeps from her soul, if she even has one." Ouch, getting a bottle in the face aside, no one deserves to hear that. Besides, Cohen is only 36.

Charlotte Church makes me feel old. While Californian red oaks have the rings around their trunks to indicate age, I forgo my birth certificate and track my lifeline across the ups and downs of the Welsh prodigy's career. When she was winning over opera snobs with her howling arias as an unjaded tween, I was still counting pudding cups and fruit punch as part of a healthy diet. And when Church was emancipated from her money-grubbing parents and sought solace in menthols and booze, I was frenetically scribbling a report on these people. She even dabbled in an aimless pop career as her voice, from years of substance abuse, was no longer suited for opera.