"And how would you like your steak?"

"What is to be confused about? I want a pink center, and I want it well done. What is so hard to understand about a well done steak? I want it to taste good, juicy pink in the middle. I don't want it done bad. I want it done well." *insert tsk of disgust here*

Please don't question why I lose my biscuit once and a while. With people like this slowly pecking at the fiber that is my sanity, be grateful I haven't lost the whole batch.

So we Tricked for our new friends who make the beer. And it was, quite possibly, the most fun we have ever had at a Trick. At one point in the night I looked around and said, "This is why we do this...this is fabulous ". And because I talk with my hands like a wildly gesturing freak I sort of flailed a paring knife across the work space where, fortunately, no one was standing. And on my way to retrieve said knife I slammed my shin on the open drawer I saw but apparently did not register it as something that would cause me bodily harm.

Anyway.

Everyone and everything was fantastic. The food, the beer, the people - even the weather was a non-issue. I mean, who doesn't love snow in April? On that note, if I don't start getting some sun on my skin I am going to develop mold in my arm pits. Are you with me, people?

The crowd was the type of crowd I like to call 'Salt of the Earth' - real people - people who gather because they truly like one another. People who smile like they don't have a care in the world, and who treat one another with such love. We had pulled the van around to the service door of The Venue and when we got out to unload there was a line of people with their arms out waiting to help us. At first I raised my eyebrow and said, "Are you robbing us? Because in case you didn't notice the missing hubcap - we got nothin'" They all laughed and insisted on helping - this was, as they said, a group effort. All I wanted to do was spend my night giving them hugs and exchanging phone numbers because I knew we could all be BFF's. (Acronyms... I am a little bit behind on the chat lingo, but can I tell you I just found out - after last week's brilliant 30-Rock episode - what the letters MILF stand for. Let's just say - I was off from what I thought it meant...)

So the night went on - the people ate, we served, they ate some more. The music came on - people danced.

And as I was clearing up the food table I got my groove on a little. My head was bobbing and I was singing along, and then I had a tap on my shoulder. Before I could turn around to speak my arm was grabbed and I was pulled onto the dance floor.

And all eyes were on me.

I know the look of horror on my face was clear because the crowd started to cheer - and clap. And I shook my head no and tried to find an escape route but my dance partner wasn't having it - he was bustin' a move all around me and all I was doing was wishing that paring knife had landed on my big toe so I could have a legitimate excuse to hobble away. But I stood there - praying - praying the electricity would go out or that maybe something would start on fire in the kitchen.

I mean, I am all about having a good time and being a good sport - but sweet merciful Jesus I cannot dance. I've said it before - my moves are comparible to someone being tasered or an octopus who's got one arm caught in the jaw of something fierce. It's just... well... bad. But I knew I couldn't stand there much longer because people were staring, and I didn't want to be a big poop. So I did the only thing I knew I could do - I started rolling fist over fist in what can only be described as my very bad version of The Hustle.

The Crowd went wild.

I prayed for death.

Fortunately the song ended and My Dancing Partner took pity on me and allowed me to graciously leave the floor. And because I am me - I smiled, waved a little, and on my way back to the kitchen I tripped and ran into the food table.

Good Times.

Oh dear God I have to bake a cake. That means flour, sugar, eggs... that means a dust cloud of mayhem in my kitchen.

How many times do I have to say this... I DO NOT BAKE. (Yes I am yelling in ALL CAPS)

Anyone have a good reacipe for Tres Leches Cake? Something that will be fabulous but won't make me cry?

Something that will be as easy as peeling and deveining shrimp?

ANYONE?

So I had to make this gravy for this Trick and after my last little addition of my top secret over the top ingredient (salt) I took a taste and ran out the door to get to my meeting on time.

Adjusted the rearview mirror to check the hair, the make-up - gave myself a spritz of GoodSmellUms as not to overwhelm the place with garlic and arrived just in time.

I noticed The Client looking at me, then down at my shirt. Then back at me, then at my shirt. And just before I could say something to distract him he said, "Job hazzard?" and nodded toward my collar. I gave him a confused look and did that awkward face bend where you try to see your own collar and there cascading down was a lovely stain/drip/river/lake of gravy.

I'm an idiot.

It never ceases to amaze me how some Brides lose their ever loving mind on their special day. Correction, "THEIR SPECIAL DAY". I have to emphasize the ALL CAPS because The Bride on this particular night seemed to SPEAK IN ALL CAPS.

Someone actually said that in the kitchen, "Is it just me or is she speaking in all caps??" We truly live in an electronic communication world.

She was great during the meetings, she was great during all of the work up. But some switch in her mind flipped into overdrive and she went crazy with all the attention.

We had a schedule in place and The Plan was for The Bride and Her Poor Sap of a Groom to make their entrance, find their places and food service was to begin immediately. And it all went fine until she felt like their recognition upon being announced wasn't enough - not enough people applauded and gave them their 'props'. (Her actual words...)

So she rushed into the kitchen, "WAIT. WAIT DO NOT SERVE THE FOOD!" I thought there was a major crisis going down, like Plaid Clad Uncle Harry was choking on a shrimp tail.

The activity came to a dead stop in the kitchen waiting to see what the crisis was. The Bride threw her hands in the air and demanded we stop because she wanted to be annouced again. "We are going to be announced again. This is my chance to truly be the center of attention. Not enough people gave me my props and by God people are going to recognize!"

With that she gathered up her dress and did an about face out the swinging doors. Her Groom dropped his head and let out a little sigh, mumbled something and followed her out the door. The Wedding planner - a very elegant and together woman - looked to me and said, "Seriously... no, seriously... if she goes missing it's because I have her face down in the toilet."

One of our servers said, "Raise your hands if you secretly hope that happens."

We all raised our hands.

Unlike the current Presidential race, that vote was unanimous.

So - tell me about Savannah.

Where does one stay? Eat? What does one see?

So after Monday's Tirade of Loathing I stopped by the grocery store Tuesday morning and took a nice fall just outside my car. Nothing serious - I just sort of shut the door on my coat and went to walk and got jerked back and kind of fell into my car. But I got twisted a little in my coat when I tried to get my key in the door (no remote locks on The Car, thankyouverymuch) and then sort of got unbalanced on my shoes slipped down the side of my car to my knees.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching and tried to play it off by hollering, "Ha ha - April Fool's!"

God I am an idiot.

And I say that not because of that nice little display of embarassment, but because when I got in the store I knocked over a bag of flour and a nice white cloud blew all over the aisle. Mr. Shelf Stocker had a great laugh at my expense and told me not to worry about it and laughed at me - a lot. I was laughing, too. Kind of rolling my eyes and mocking myself. Until he said, "Besides - don't feel so bad. My co-worker told me some poor lady just bit it out by her car. So your day really isn't going so bad."