It is time for me to sign off for a while so I can crank out a couple more Tricks, clean my Condo in Crazy Town and pack something besides the lone pair of gloves sitting in my suitcase.

Thank you all so much for another fabulous year. I appreciate your tolerance of my incessant whining and bad grammar, and I love the interaction of your comments and e-mails.

From the bottom of my heart I wish you all a fabulous Holiday Season and an amazing New Year full of peace and prosperity.

Someone needs to send out Animal Control to put a scope on me and drop me with a tranquilizer dart. I am trying to do 34567 things at once, and I am really quite unpleasant to be around.

It was a tough night last night. And I have to take most of the blame. It was a packed house, and the 16 top reservation were a rude and hard to satisfy. But I did not help the situation. I was terse, demanding and impatient.

And I don't like when I get that way. We have an awesome crew - not prefect, as no one ever is - but they work hard, very hard. But yesterday's mix was not a good one. The prep was not completed, and the new server on the floor, who said they knew the menu like the back of their hand, did not. It created confusion and frustration for everyone. And it put me in that mood. And that's just so not productive. People walk on egg shells and feelings get hurt, and I really just need to be smacked upside the head and told to go sit in the corner.

In an attempt to give myself a time-out and remove myself from the situation I stepped away from the action to go put stock away, another task that had not been finished. And because I was snarly and impatient I got a little carried away in the cooler and knocked over a jar of pickles, which sent a good quart of pickle juice into my left shoe.

So as I was walking across the kitchen to grab some paper towels, I had the unforunate sound of... well let's just say it... flatulence... coming out of my shoe every time I took a step. And it wasn't long before everyone noticed and stopped to stare. And I could hear the whispers and see the eyes darting back and forth.

"Um. Was that?.... Did you just?... are you?.... and ohmygod it smells like pickle juice!"

I sighed heavily and dropped my head. "No, it was not. I did not. I am not. But yes, you do smell pickle juice. I spilled it in my shoe."

It was silent for a moment until someone guffawed and they all burst out in laughter. And then they made fun of me - mercilessly - and I deserved it.

I got an e-mail this morning from Stephanie over at Intotheboxtv.com with this video:

So tell me, those of you in the know, where is the best deli in NYC?

You know, so I can eat there.

There are certain things I have to do every Holiday season.

Eating roughly 450.25 pounds of sugar being one of them.

And, you know, I think it goes without saying that a fair amount of liquor is consumed. And really, the only thing different about that is that I am in a good mood before I drink, not just after.

That's how you know it's the holidays.

But there are other things. I trim the tree. I kill 5 poinsettias. Because it's not enough that I manage to kill things like cactus and peace lilies. I have to go and make a mockery of seasonal plant life, too.

Then I make three batches of Hot Buttered Rum Batter to give to friends. But then I get busy and I enjoy the hot buttered rums so I only end up giving away one small container to the person lucky enough to have been in my presence the very day I make the batter. Any time after that I am too busy.

And, you know, I drink it all.

The Road to Hell, people. It's paved with a lot of rum.

I also have to give a fabulous party for The Restaurant Staff, which I love. And which they deserve. And then I play Christmas music ad- nauseum, and I sing "Fa la la la la" a lot. And I like to sing The Dreidel Song, but often get asked to stop. And not because it's offensive to my Jewish friends, but because really - my singing voice is like the painful moans of two cats mating in the flower bed outside your bedroom window. And it freaks you out because you think someone is crying in pain, or that a child has fallen in a well and is crying out for their mother.

That's how I sound when I sing. On a good day.

I am also...kind of nice. Which I don't like to admit to often because, you know, I have to protect my street cred. But the other day in The Grocery Store I didn't even wish evil on the woman who elbowed me - yes, not an exaggeration - she elbowed me in a rush to get a jar of artichoke hearts. I simply stepped aside and said to her that she must need them more than I do, and that I am sure the bruised ribs would heal before my Trip To The Big City.

I said I was nice, I didn't say I lost my sarcasm.

Anyway.

I also simply cannot miss The Classics no matter how old I get. Charlie Brown. The Year Without a Santa Claus. Santa Claus is Coming To Town. Frosty the Snowman. The Grinch, of course. And whatever else I can muddle through on The Family Channel's 25 Days of Christmas no matter how painful they are.

It's just - tradition.

What about you?

A member of our staff is pregnant. She just made the announcement to the rest of us, and it came as a real surprise because you really cannot tell she's pregnant.

But apparently someone can.

She came into the kitchen with a defeated look on her face. And shared how The Customer at Table 1 said...

"So when is your baby due?"

A little taken aback she said, "Well late April, actually"

"Well I knew it. Your protruding lovehandles gave it all away."

WHO SAYS THIS TO A STRANGER????

They had no clue she was pregnant. Just made a bold guess based on a percieved physical "flaw".

On her way out of the kitchen she grabbed the rolling pin off the work table. "I should show him the true definition of protruding..."

Good times with Crazy People...

...good times...

I think it's me.

I think my incessant talking and ridiculous insistence in engaging people in conversation freaks them out and makes them clam up for fear of making a life changing wrong decision.

So I am carving a gorgeous prime rib, sharing anecdotes as people come through graciously taking a slice for themselves when The Dean of the School of Indescision approached me.

"Hi there! Can I get you some..."

"Uh. Duh. But I don't want something too bloody."

Did he just say Duh?

Ok - Big smile from me.

"Oh no problem. I have some that are a little more done on this end."

"Ok. I can cut this in half."

Blank Stare.

"Would you like me to cut this in half?"

"Oh. Ok no problem!"

More smiling, more praying a meteor would fall on his head.

"No. Wait."

"No. Wait..."

In the mean time the line is piling up and I have a man to my right who is being so patient and so gracious, but who is looking at me like, "Just stab the SOB with your carving fork and I will help you hide the body."

"No. I just want that half."

"But now that its on my plate I think it will be too much for me."

And then I did the only thing I could do - I kicked him in the shin and ran for the kitchen.

Ok so I really didn't do that.

But I totally wanted to.

Sur La Table is my favorite place in the whole wide world. It's like my version of Disneyland without all the strollers and ridiculously happy people in costume. And, you know, shrill screams coming from the Pirates of The Carribean ride. Don't tell me you've never been afraid in that ride. The first faux cannon ball goes off by the boat and I wish I could go yo ho ho in my own bottle of rum.

Anyway.

Found this in the catalog:

Waring Pro Electric Martini Shaker

Really? So this is how it is now? We can't shake or stir our own lemon drops? Like a Ronco product we can just set it and forget it?

How would a person retain their upper body strength? I mean, for some of us all the shaking quallified as time at the gym.

"Ok, on your initial call you sounded really certain on what you wanted for a menu. So let's talk about that and take it from there."

Silence.

"Ok so what did you have in mind?"

"Hmmm." *Shrugs*

At this point I was searching the table for my recently sharpened pencil. Would it be for my eye or for hers?

"Ok, well. Mom of Bride, did you have any ideas?"

"Oh, no. This is all her choice. I am just here to write the check."

Hm. Maybe mom's eye.

"Ok, then. Maybe you want to take some menu ideas home and look them over. Then we can meet again so that we can get something down on paper. How does that sound?"

"I dunno." *Shrugs*

No. Her eye.

"Well, why don't we do that. We've got time, and maybe it will be easier for you to discuss this all at home and then come back. Here are a list of menu items and ideas. Take these home, talk it over with your mom and your fiance' - whomever you would like - and then when you come back we can answer questions and finalize it."

*Shrugs* "Yeah. I dunno. Whatever."

Wait, no, my eye. And her eye.

Smile and loud sigh from me. Lip biting from Mom of Bride. Shuffling in the seat and a little hair toss from The Bride. Who, by the way, despite all signs is not a non-English speaking bride from the Old Country. She's 26. Gainfully employed at a bank, and seems to be able to put at least some words together.

"Well, the thing is, I can't do this for you. I mean. I can. But I need to know what you have in mind so we can make this uniquely yours. That's how we do this."

Blank Stare. A giggle. Yet another shrug. "Yeah. I just... I dunno."

I rubbed my forehead. Laughed a little and said, "You are still getting married, right?"

"Oh, totally. I can't wait!"

Wow - a new set of words.

Mom smiles brightly. Overjoyed, I think, at the prospect of getting rid of the girl.

"Well then are you just overwhelmed by this part of the planning, or are you really not interested at this point?"

And I swear to God if you say 'I dunno' I will cry.

Silence.

I sat there looking at her, with that look of anticipation on my face like people get when they are waiting for a punch line to a really great joke.

"It's just... I dun..."

And then Mom finally got a little hair on her teeth.

"We WILL take the menus home. We WILL get this down on paper. And we WILL be back with an answer for you next week. Get your coat - it is time to go. NOW."

Oh to be a fly on the wall in that car...

...oh to think I will soon be on vacation...