We think hosting a breakfast to celebrate a new diet book is like holding an A.A. meeting at McSorley's , but whadda we know ? This morning at Michael's , Reader's Digest and the ladies who lunch celebrate ChangeOne , the magazine's first diet book, which encourages women to lose weight by changing one poor eating habit each day . Expect breakfast served according to the diet and many puns on the word "digest" by the mag's honcho, Tom Ryder . We predict that the first sign of "change" will be the coins we use to buy some Krispy Kremes on the way to work …. Later, those for whom morning occurs at the end of the day head down to Irving Plaza to behold the ever-increasing phenomenon we like to call "Actresses: The New Strippers!" Tonight, the Pussycat Dolls perform a burlesque cabaret show which has toured the country featuring celebs like Gwen Stefani , Christina Applegate and tonight's star, Carmen Electra . Somebody should really tell that girl that the exotic-dancing route could be damaging to her career. Oh, wait ….

[ ChangeOne breakfast, Michael's, 24 West 55th Street, 8:30 a.m., 822-8181; Pussycat Dolls, Irving Plaza, 17 Irving Place between 15th and 16th streets, 8 p.m., 307-4100.]

Thursday 23rd

Well, it's official. NBC's Friends has given up its chance to be the first TV show in history to go out on a high note , having signed on for yet another season . And since a new baby is always the death rattle of a sitcom (see: Growing Pains , Murphy Brow, don't get us started on Roseanne ), the million-per-episode cast members are going to be dragging themselves, and us, across the finish line …. So, it looks like we'll be venturing out on Thursday nights for the first time in a decade. Might as well start tonight by heading over to the Waldorf for cocktails on the "Starlight Roof" as the American Psychoanalytic Foundation hands its 2002 Human Spirit Award to a confounded Robert Mankoff, cartoon editor of The New Yorker. "My qualifications?" he said, laughing. "I don't know how I qualify for my driver's license! I guess it's because of all the people I've prevented from going into therapy over the years." Mr. Mankoff is the pen behind the famed sketch of the executive looking in his date book and saying, "No, Thursday's out. How about never? Does never work for you?" He also has a master's in psychology and was pursuing a Ph.D. when he left the field to become a cartoonist. "Cartoons help people deal with the difficult aspects of life, like death," said Mr. Mankoff. "We're the only creatures who really realize that we're going to die. There's no rational defense, and I feel like the best way to respond is with humor. One of my cartoons, for instance, showed the Grim Reaper dragging a woman's husband away as she says to him, 'Relax, Harvey. Change is good!' "

[American Psychoanalytic Foundation Benefit, Starlight Roof, Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, 301 Park Avenue, 6:30 p.m., 752-0450, ext. 29.]

Friday 24th

Britney Spears, N.Y.C.'s newest barfly, takes her chug-a-lug act to Miami for the launch party of Skybar at the Shore Club. Organized by plucky blond publicist Lara Shriftman - not the one who ran over all those people in the Hamptons, this is the other one -other expected guests include Owen and Luke Wilson . Crash strategy: Have a friend dress up as Justin , you dress up as Fred Durst and say you're there for Britney. She'll rescue one of you, but we're not sure which one …. But what the hell are you doing in Miami, anyway?

[Skybar, the Shore Club, 1901 Collins Ave, Miami Beach, Fla., 9 p.m., 305-534-0008.]

Saturday 25th

"Hi, we're the Radio City Rockettes and we get a kick out of riding in taxis, but we always buckle up for safety and so should you! " You'd be concerned about safety, too, if you only had secure employment three months out of the year. So support a Rockette today by signing up for "The Rockette Experience" at Broadway Dance Center. Participants will learn the choreography from the Christmas Spectacular , and go on a mock audition before a panel of "distinguished judges" ( read : Rockettes trying to look serious by donning novelty eyeglasses ), and take the Radio City Stage Door Tour. Just don't forget to get a receipt and gather your belongings when you leave …. Then hoof it on down to the Blue Heron Arts Center , because just when you thought it was socially unacceptable to use the word "Indian," tonight Theater by the Blind re-enacts Agatha Christie's famed mystery Ten Little Indians . After the plot unfolds and all the characters have been iced, the audience gets to try to identify the murderer. This is followed by a parlor game in which (if you had a problem with the Indian thing, do not pass go) audience members take turns guessing which actors are blind, visually impaired or sighted. "I've always wanted to make it a game where each person puts a dollar in a pot, and whoever guesses everyone correctly gets all the money," said director Ike Schambelan . "But the company tells me that's terminally tacky." He swears that the latter guessing game is harder than the first. "This is a mother to do," he said. "People guess incorrectly all the time. It's very difficult to tell."

["The Rockette Experience," Broadway Dance Center, 221 West 57th Street, fifth floor, 582-9304; the Blue Heron Arts Center, 123 East 24th Street between Park and Lexington, 7 p.m., 206-1515.]

Sunday 26th

Bone up for Valentine's Day with a beginners' tantric workshop -come with or without a partner …. The class goes from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. (now that's stamina), but we still don't understand why anyone would have to go through a whole bunch of complex bindu-clenching, Sanskrit-chanting exercises just to make sex fun …. Anyone else hungry? We balked at news of the $50 burger by chef Daniel Boulud, but bargain-eating football fans can get "Super Bowlfuls" of tailgating food from celeb chefs today for just $60 at Blue Smoke restaurant. Watch the game while rubbing elbows with the Harrison's Joey Campanaro, Pershing Square's Wayne Harley Brachman and Union Square Café's Michael Romano. Sponsored by Gourmet magazine, part of the proceeds benefit City Harvest. Watch for gamine Gourmet editors doing wine stands while a crowd chants "Sip! Sip! Sip!" … Meanwhile, now that every actress with the possible (and unfortunate) exception of Dame Edna has had her crack at doing The Vagina Monologues -the show that Vogue editors call "really, um, empowering" and which our parents back home in the South call " unseemly" -the curtain comes down tonight. Howard Socol , the big shot at Barneys, teams up with fashion maven Eileen Fisher to host an after-party filled with "V-festivities," the details of which we chose not to inquire about, but be our guest ….

[One-Day Beginners' Tantra Workshop, New York Open Center, Spring Street between Broadway and Lafayette, 10 a.m., 219-2527, ext. 125; Super Sunday Bash, Blue Smoke, 116 East 27th Street, 4:30 p.m., tickets available at www.tickets.com; V-Day, Barneys New York, Madison Avenue and 61st Street, 8:30 p.m., 645-VDAY.]

Monday 27th

Ahhh, January. Right about now, muddled Ivy League seniors are deciding to "give back" by joining Teach for America next year (translation: Morgan Stanley and Sotheby's aren't hiring). Tonight, the Harvard Club hosts a book basheroo for The Person Who Changed My Life , in which famous types recall favorite teachers and mentors. Matilda Cuomo, the book's editor, called in on her way to baby-sit for son Andrew and daughter-in-law Kerry Kennedy Cuomo's children. "Altogether, I have 10 granddaughters," she said. "And we're expecting another in March!" According to Mrs. Cuomo, the book includes "everyone from Maya Lin to Geraldo Rivera to the Baldwins-all of them, even the mother!" At tonight's party, Senate Armed Services Committee member Hillary Rodham Clinton delivers a lecture on mentoring children at risk ( first lesson: show the tykes how to make billing records disappear before you can say "subpoena!" ). Meanwhile, the French take some time out from hating America to send over another film, He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not , starring Audrey Tautou , the goggle-eyedgamine anachronism of the silent-filmeraand star oflastyear'shit, Amélie . Advance screening cesoir . Plot: Angélique is an art student who's fallen in love with Loïc, a cardiologist, who also happens to be married. It's a love story. He's a heart doctor. It will be released on Valentine's Day . Subtlety, party of one? Though Ms. Tautou has been well-received by American critics, the French actress is less enamored of American culture. "I wouldn't mind being in an American film for a laugh , but I certainly don't want to be in Thingy Blah Blah 3 , if you know what I mean," she told The Guardian . She loves us not.

[T he Person Who Changed My Life party, Harvard Club, 27 West 44th Street, 7 p.m., 779-3350, ext. 254; He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not , the Technicolor Screening Room, 321 West 44th Street, between Eighth and Ninth avenues, 2 p.m., 268-3075.]

Tuesday 28th

There's no place like Oz , and unfortunately there's no place for Oz on HBO's schedule next year. So enjoy it while you can (through the slits between your fingers) tonight with a special preview episode at the Museum of Television & Radio . After the screening, the show's creators-along with actors J.K. Simmons (Prisoner No. 92S110, Vernon Schillinger) and Lee Tergesen (Prisoner No. 97B412, Tobias "Toby" Beecher)-will discuss the program and field questions. We called Mr. Tergesen and asked what it's like being on the show. "It's like being in f*cking high school!" he said. "We're in the cafeteria-we've got our lunches, our trays and, well, our shanks." How does he feel about the show ending? " Aaauuuggghh ! Terrible! When we finished shooting the show over the summer, a lot of people were pretty emotional. It was a great group of people to work with, and we're never going to get a chance to do a show like this again. I mean, how many times am I going to get to bite someone's dick off?"

["There's No Place Like Oz ," the Museum of Television & Radio, 25 West 52nd Street, 6:30 p.m., 621-6600.]

Wednesday 29th

Don't you always want to know what newscasters are saying when networks cut the sound at the end of the broadcast? Face the Nation host Bob Schieffer tells you in his new memoir, This Just In: What I Couldn't Tell You on TV . "Basically, this is a book of the stories that reporters tell each other," he said, telling us a story that involved the Pentagon, condoms in a septic tank and a fishing net. Tonight, Dan Rather and Andrew Heyward toast the CBS News chief Washington correspondent who nearly wasn't. "My mother was dead set on my being a doctor," Mr. Schieffer drawled, "but it wasn't meant to be. To this day, when people ask me what led me to journalism, my response is always, 'Comparative anatomy.' And when they ask if I graduated with honors, I say, 'No, I graduated barely -that's what I did. Honors were out of the question!'" Speaking of television, Julia Sweeney's whereabouts over the last few years are as ambiguous as her character Pat from her SNL days. No matter-she's back and starring in an autobiographical play, Julia Sweeney: Guys & Babes, Sex & Gods , and she rang us at 9 in the friggin' moanin' to tell us about it. "It's one of those 'look at me' shows where I talk about me and things that have happened to me !!! Me! Me! Me!" she said. Plot: She's in her late 30's, professional ambitions fulfilled, yet single and without children . She's at the crossroads of her life as she realizes, "Oh my God-I forgot to have a family!"

[ This Just In , Blue Smoke, 116 East 27th Street, between Lexington and Park avenues, 7 p.m., 975-4296; Julia Sweeney: Guys & Babes, Sex & Gods , ARS, Nova Theater, 511 West 54th Street, 8 p.m., 206-1515.]

Ms. Sweeney has done nothing less than transform a riotously troubled piece of her life into a jewel of seriocomic performance art that transcends the self-imposed scenic limitations of the traditional stand-up routine. The provocative title of the piece is derived from a friend's condolence card sent in her time of troubles. The card repeated an old Yiddish saying, If you want to make God laugh, make plans. And Ms. Sweeney's misadventures in the 90's have supplied her with ample material for an extended whine. Yet this screechy form of self-pity never invades her indomitable ebullience even in the midst of chaos and adversity. Two malignant diagnoses are not merely endured, but actually engulfed in a flood of family love and personal wit and courage.

Not too long ago, Ms. Sweeney thought she had it made in the shade when she purchased a Los Angeles dream house, following an amicable divorce from her husband and a graceful exit from a successful three-year stint on Saturday Night Live , most notably as her own androgynous creation, Pat. Then her brother came down with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and moved in with her, and her concerned parents followed. Her "dream house" became a nightmarish deluge of déjà vu s. Ms. Sweeney found herself regressing to adolescent stratagems to protect her adult privacy, and such acquired vices as smoking and "fooling around with her boyfriend." She was even forced to defend such culinary perversions as what her mother described as "fancy spaghetti sauce."

This is all comic relief and a prelude to Ms. Sweeney's disheartening discovery that she herself had come down with cervical cancer, a setback that would be intolerable for an audience to bear were it not for Ms. Sweeney's inimitable brand of gallows humor. The film actually evolved from a series of real-life rants that Ms. Sweeney delivered at an alternative comedy club called the Uncabaret at Luna Park in West Hollywood. At first her objective was to audition for local television shows around Los Angeles, but the audiences for her live performance grew larger and more enthusiastic to the point that her comically orchestrated wail of woe became an end in itself.

Polishing and perfecting her show as she went along, Ms. Sweeney opened God Said, "Ha!" live at the Magic Theater in San Francisco, in January 1996, and it ran for three months to capacity audiences. God Said, "Ha!" then played at the Coronet Theater in Los Angeles, and ran for four months, six shows a week, to full houses. The opportunity to make her onetime rant into a movie came when her friend Quentin Tarantino tipped off producer Rana Joy Glickman. The wheels were set in motion and certain options were explored. In the end, it was decided that Ms. Sweeney would perform the piece on camera twice, with different studio audiences each time. Leaflets were scattered around town to get a crowd of extras who were not too show-biz-savvy. A suggestion that the show be taken out of doors a bit was eventually rejected. What emerges instead is a theater performance made subtly cinematic by camera close-ups and unobtrusive movements to bring the movie audience closer to the single protagonist at the moments of crisis and climax.

I cannot recommend God Said, "Ha!" highly enough without beginning to sound like a Sweeney sycophant from back in her Saturday Night Live days. Nothing could be further from the truth. Pat, her signature androgynous character, struck me from the beginning as a limited comic concept with very little staying power. Actually, what Ms. Sweeney has achieved in her career is to come out from under the ponderous weight of Pat to reveal the graceful wit and whimsy of a blithe spirit full of womanly and sisterly love. Ms. Sweeney is an existential heroine with the capacity to transform a damaged piece of her life into poetry, and family drama into high pathos.

Point Blank Is the Payback

Brian Helgeland's Payback , from a screenplay by Mr. Helgeland and Terry Hayes, based on the novel The Hunter , by Richard Stark, turns out to be an elaborately misguided remake of John Boorman's cult gangster classic, Point Blank . Interestingly enough, the 32-year-old original is more erotic and less violent at its core than the remake. Production gossip has it that superstar Mel Gibson took Mr. Helgeland off the picture near the end of shooting, and assumed the directorial helm himself. No matter. Mr. Gibson's telltale wisecracking, off-screen narration indicates directorial ineptitude from start to finish.

Whereas Mr. Boorman told his essentially heartless story with a cold, sharply angled, brightly colored mise en scène , Mr. Helgeland and Mr. Gibson have gone for a grubby look and dumbed-down dialogue that misses the whole point of the original Point Blank : simply that a lone individual is pitted against a criminal organization patterned after legitimate capitalist corporations.

The WASP nomenclature of the criminal C.E.O.'s-Fairfax, Carter, Porter-have been preserved in Payback for no discernible purpose. Ever since Al Capone's exploits endeared him to moviemakers in the 30's, Italo-American groups have been protesting the ethnic stereotyping to no avail. Point Blank was dismissed in 1967 as a sly evasion of the vowel-ending names of Al Capone's screen descendants. Then five years later, Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo opened the Godfather floodgates, and the ethnic stereotyping of criminals metastasized from sociology to mythology.

Not that Mr. Gibson could ever be convincingly ethnic or even particularly urban. He has become of late an odd man out wherever he is, either through mental eccentricity or superhuman bravado. Compared to the massive Lee Marvin in the original Point Blank , Mr. Gibson is conspicuously undersized. Yet he is mystically lethal without ever working up a sweat. Everything around him is more sordid and perverted than anything in the original Point Blank .

Mr. Gibson's Porter looks at his double-crossing, heroin-addicted ex-wife Lynn (Deborah Kara Unger) with the weary sang-froid of a superstar saddled with too many creative and financial responsibilities to figure out what his character is supposed to be feeling or expressing. He looks bored as he holds a gun over his pathologically sadistic former sidekick Val (Gregg Henry), and watches him being brutalized by Pearl (Lucy Liu from Ally McBeal ), a professional dominatrix who enjoys her work and all the black leather that goes with it.

Two crooked cops who were not in the original Point Blank are stuck into the plot mainly to enable Porter to make insulting voice-over remarks about how dumb all cops are, and how if Porter had been much dumber he might have sunk low enough to become one himself instead of the pickpocket and petty thief he is so proud of being. Indeed, the early publicity campaign exhorts everyone in the audience to root for the "bad guy" as if there is any other kind of character in the anarchically lawless sleaze and slime of Payback .

Rumor once had it that Marlon Brando insisted on being virtually crucified at least once in every movie he made. Mr. Brando would have drooled over Mr. Gibson's Porter part in Payback . For starters, Porter is about to be castrated by a gang of angry Asian hoods when the two crooked cops round a corner in their patrol car as if they are maintaining the law. Later, when two mob hit men are about to rub out our "bad" hero, the angry Asians pop up again with enough automatic weapons to depopulate downtown Damascus, but they somehow miraculously miss Porter, riddling the hit men instead.

When his enemies connect his telephone to an enormous bomb to be activated when he answers, Porter disconnects the wires, sneaks down the stairs and blows up the car with the gangsters in it, through an oil-leaking-and-igniting maneuver that has to be seen to be disbelieved. But fear not, Mr. Brando. Porter does not get off entirely scot-free. After he has been brutally beaten, the head gangster honcho arrives with an assistant armed with a sledgehammer. First one of Porter's toes is crushed, and then another, to the nursery rhyme of "This little piggy went to market, This little piggy went home," etc.

The head gangster mixes his metaphors and meat groups when he remarks that Porter's foot is beginning to resemble roast beef. Somehow Porter survives to blow up the rest of the mob and get away with the money together with his one true love, a hooker (what else?) named Rosie (Maria Bello).

My advice is get the video of Point Blank pronto, and forget Payback .