Well the last Trick of '06 is over, and I am actually spending the evening in my own home. A place that feels more like a hotel to me with what little time I have spent here in the last six weeks.

I wish all of you a wonderful New Year full of many blessings and great promise.

Please be safe tonight and wherever you are - have a fabulous night!

So I had a breakfast meeting, and when I got out of said meeting I had a phone message from DaMomma. It seems that Miss Mary had a little private "unbeknownst to Momma" practice session with some "C-U-R-L-E-R-S" this morning, but apparently only made the "front half of her head look like she put her finger in a light socket." And they were off for a very important day.

I hate to admit this but when she spelled out curlers, I had to pause and say each letter out loud. So many of my friends are parents and in the spelling stage. And I gotta tell you - it throws me for a loop.

Anyway - the reason I share this is because I had a little incident with a pair of T-w-e-e-z-e-r-s the other day. While getting ready for a Trick I plucked a few wayward eyebrow hairs - no need to trick with a Uni Brow - and The Husband came into the bathroom all quiet and sneaky and scared me. Which then made me turn suddenly and jerk my hand, which then caused me to scraps the tip of the t-w-e-e-z-e-r-s across my upper lip.

Big huge red line - painful, too.

I tried to cover it with make-up, but it was so bold that it kept showing through. So every time I turned around someone was saying, "Hey - you've got a huge smudge of lipstick under your nose..."

"Did you just have red wine? You've got a huge red mark across your upper lip..."

"Before you take those platters out take the time to wipe the smurdge of lipstick off your face..."

So Mary, sweetie, I feel your pain. But I bet your Finger in a Light Socket Hair looked fabulous.

And if it makes you feel any better, yesterday I fell while coming out of the grocery store. I just took a header right by the cart return. Boots over Bonnet - right there for all the world to see.

Here's to hoping this is the last of our blunders in '06.

Rums are hot buttered, presents are under the tree, and it is time for The Food Whore family to celebrate our holiday of the season - Christmas.

Wherever you are, and whatever Holiday you celebrate this season my wish is for your time to be full of blessings, full of love and full of great joy.

Cheers to you and yours!

I made hot buttered rum batter for friends this year. It is a recipe I am sure you have all seen 1,000 times, but here it is - an actual recipe - I am actually posting a recipe...

1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. nutmeg
1 tsp. cinnamon

Cream together, and add 1 pint of soft vanilla ice cream. Store in the freezer. When serving, mix 3 Tbs. rum batter, 1 jigger rum and fill the rest of the mug with boiling water.

You will find a mug or 3 of this comes in handy when your unwillingness to Trick a party for - 5 people - on Christmas Eve has put you in the same classification as a giant hemorrhoid.

I actually don't mind being called a pain in the ass. It is so much better than humorless bitch - a name I was called just last week in an e-mail.

The Spirit of the holidays lives, people! Warm fuzzies all around!

This is always my favorite Trick of the holiday season. We have a standing reservation every year, and I adore the fact that it is a fairly stress-less night of serving 20 people in a private home. The Clients are a wonderful couple who always send us home with hugs and bottles of wine at the end of the night.

They wanted tonight's meal to be simple - a cheese display, olives and crackle bread for appetizers; a salad of bleu cheese on a wedge; roasted fingerling potatoes, grilled asparagus and beef tenderloin with Bearnaise for the main course.

The tenderloin was perfect - a caramelize crusted roasted-rare gem. Juicy, flavorful and perfect.

The meal, as it does every year, went off without a glitch. I adore small parties like this. It is much more intimate than anything else we do.

After the plates had been cleared and the guests had gotten away from the table to mill about and make room for dessert one dear lady came up to pat my hand. "I don't know what you did to that lamb, but it was so good it tasted like beef. And I normally don't like lamb."

I think she missed the part where we said, "Tonight's dinner is..." But that's ok. She was sweet. And hey - if we were magical enough to make the beef taste like beef - who am I to correct her?

Party Girl here.

So it's 11:48 p.m. on a Friday night and I just walked in the door after a 6 hour marathon of shopping. And I am done, finally.

Each time I stopped to wipe the sweat off my brow I had to remind myself that it's Christmas - the season of giving. And even though the temperature in the mall was approximately 400 degrees hotter than the surface of the Sun I needed to have a good attitude - the attitude of Tidings of Comfort and Joy.

Now that I am sipping my lemon drop I think the Comfort and Joy part is well on its way.

So - the dogs...the hunting dogs lying at my feet the other night. Gorgeous dogs. And I love dogs. I love dogs so much I've not been able to shake the image of the look on The Mother's face when she sat us down to tell us she had to take my beloved family pet to be put to eternal rest. And I will never forget the day I stood in the vet's office with The Father when his beautiful Siberian took his last breath. Devastating moments, for sure.

But I have to admit it was a little odd serving a holiday meal to a group of people while trying to balance trays around lying dogs, and trying to distract people with slabs of prime rib while they gasp a little as they see what is lying at my feet. I honestly think a couple people thought we brought the dogs - as if it was a little vaudeville act we put together. Were The Partner skilled in balancing plates on a stick I think we could make a pretty good living for ourselves on the circus circuit.

I will say the dogs were quiet and well behaved. They didn't beg or jump up on the tables. Which, quite frankly, is better than many of the guests I have dealt with in my time in this business. And they did wear festive kerchiefs around their necks. But I admit I did wince a little when The Client - The Dog's owners - allowed the dogs to lick all the plates at their table clean.

One lady leaned over to me as I was packing out and said, "Now - those plates. You are going to wash those again, right?" I did think about rattling off a little funny about a dog's mouth being the cleanest thing you can find, but I was tired, and I simply said, "We will be sure to wash those twice."

It was a legitimate question considering two days later we were going to be Tricking a party at her house.

The Trick actually was without issue, so I can't complain to much. Though at the end of the night one of The Dogs did lift his leg to mark his territory on one of our crates - but I suppose that is a little Karma coming back to get me.

I think I should be grateful he didn't decide to mark me.

I am a firm believer that a person has to laugh at least once a day to keep a perspective about it all. And the laughter really must come at the expense of oneself - it keeps a person humble and centered.

I've been - busy. Tonight will be the first night in exactly two weeks that I will be able to spend the evening at home, cooking food for only The Husband and me. I has been an insane month thus far, and this little reprieve tonight will be the last down time I have before Christmas Eve arrives on my doorstep like a big giant package from the IRS. I don't say this because I hate Christmas Eve, I say this because I have only managed to buy two things on line and have them sent to people I love, without so much as a note or wrapping paper. It's the kind of thing I hate to do. But if it were up to me to achieve that in real time they would be opening gifts wrapped in Santa paper somewhere around the 4th of July. So right now the idea of Christmas Eve arriving is about as appealing as the letter from the IRS I received mid-November. (The Bastards) I haven't purchased a single real-time gift, and it's stressing me out to the point that I am unable to enjoy my lemon drops.

It's just that bad, people.

A few days ago I had a spare 20 minutes so I stopped by the mall to buy underwear. In all of my awareness of how busy I am I seemed to overlook the simple reality that is my underwear situation was looking pretty grim. Now, normally I would not discuss my undergarments in my blog - too personal - and frankly it's not a story anyone is likely to care about. But here it is, anyway.

So with this spare 20 minutes I stopped at The Mall. I parked, sprinted my way passed Santa and the line of screaming children, and into the store I needed to go. They were having a sale - perfect. I grabbed a handful of seemingly harmless drawers, threw some money at the sales girl and sprinted my way back to the car. When I got home I threw my purchases in the wash, ran more errands, got back in time to get them dried, throw on a pair, put on the uniform and head out the door for a night of Whoring.

When I got home - exhausted and smelling of food - I stripped off the uniform and headed toward the bathroom for a nice, hot shower. As I walked passed The Husband he said, "Hey there, Party Girl."

"Well, by the looks of it, you."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, too exhausted to be cute.

"It says so right there." He said.

"OK, seriously - what are you talking about?"

"Check the back of your underwear."

I turned to look, and kept turning like a dog chasing his tail, so The Husband led me into the bathroom to show me in the mirror. And right there - in bold black letters - right across the back of my arse said the words, "Party Girl".

I was instantly mortified and amused at the same time. How I could have missed this in the Mad Dash Purchase and Laundering was beyond me. In my intensity of speed - and apparent dressing in the dark - I just totally missed it.

Party girl. Right there in front of God and every body.

I couldn't help but laugh at moment. I mean - sure I like my lemon drops, but a party girl I am not. Though apparently my underwear would beg to differ.

(For the record, I am completely embarassed I felt compared to share this.)

Have you ever stood at the end of a table full of the most wonderful and delicious food that you worked very hard to prepare? And have you ever stood at the end of that table carving the most wonderful prime rib you cooked to a juicy, medium perfection? And have you ever done all this while two hunting dogs lie at your feet while guests are forced to step over them?

No?

WELL I HAVE.

So my server comes in the kitchen...

"The lady at Table 7 wants to know if she can have the prime rib instead of the pork."

"Smile pretty."

Lisa in CT comments that it's been 6 days since my last post. This Whoredom is starting to heavily interfere with my blogging, something I need to keep my mental balance.

Imagine how messed up I am.

Imagine how much drinking I've been doing.

The Season of Sequins and Fake Smiles is upon us, and the last 6 days have been mayhem. This week alone I will be home for approximately 2 hours tomorrow night, just enough time to meet this man living in my house who I think might be The Husband. Every other night is booked with platters and linens and frantic people trying to pretend they are having fun while their boss gives a speech no one is listening to, and while Harold from Accounting is putting the moves on Marge from Human Resources.

I really do love the office parties the best. They are always a nice mix of people who show up to network, and people who show up with the goal of getting drunk enough to say things to their fellow cubicle mates they don't have the balls to say on a regular work day. I can't tell you how many conversations I've overheard that start out, "Mike, *hic* I hate that damn shirt you wear, but I love you man..."

Good times.

Whiney Bride turned out to be ok the other night. She was rather pleasant, actually. The upside to that is a nice evening, the downside is very little blog fodder. It was I who was doing the freaking out for a change. I forgot my personal tote - something I usually load in the van first. It's got my knives, my tools, the spices I want, and a few other tidbits. And when I was setting up the kitchen in the venu I realized I had forgotten it. And I had a mini panic attack wondering how I was going to make it through the night without it. It's my safety blanket, and without it I feel like everything is out of sync.

So, Lisa, that's where I've been. The downside to all the mayhem is my absence. The upside will be all the stories.

Lots and lots of stories...