I’m a firm believer in the power of positive energy. That sending out feelings of gratitude and positivity will cultivate more positive opportunities in your life.  When you are happy and see that the glass is not only half full, but full of champagne, then life will be just that much more amazing.

But then there are some instances when the gloves come off and you have to BUST SOME MOTHER EFFIN SKULLS.

Now, precious readers, you may be aware that some of my biggest pet peeves are:

1. People who lie, cheat, and steal

2. People who take limos to go to a club on the lower eat side

3. People who are just plain rude to you for no apparent reason

I just can’t stand when people act stank. For those of you unfamiliar with this colloqualism, it’s just another way to say when someone acts like a total biatch. I may be stank but that’s only because I don’t like people. And I’m only stank when I have to be i.e. hanging out in bars, clubs, and other public places.

So my friends and I go to Supper restaurant in the East Village. I’ve talked about Supper many times before and expounded on the glories of their spaghetti al limone. The atmosphere is very cozy and comforting. The type of place where you’d expect home cooked meals from your grandmother. (Except instead of your nonna, these meals are created by Mexican sous chefs.)

Anyway, the bottom line is that Supper is supposed to be a casual spot. It’s no Morimoto or even Pastis. So then why does the hostess act like the mayor of stankonia??? The attitude in the front of the house is incongruous with the atmosphere in the restaurant and betrays the whole concept of the place.

So I’m at Supper with two of my friends. We ask for a table. It’s not a very busy night and there aren’t any people waiting. So the hostess takes us to our booth and when we tell her that we’re still waiting for two more people, she throws the menus down on a table and says, “Well, then, lets go back outside, shall we?”

Okay, this is another one of those instances when it’s not about what she said but HOW she said it. I get it that restaurants have a seating policy and won’t seat you until your entire party is there. But why does she have to act so bitchy about it? And I wouldn’t feel so offended if this were an isolated case. This happens every time I go there. I’ve had better service at restaurant behemoths like Buddakan or Balthazar or Pastis. Supper is a third tier Italian restaurant on Avenue A. Don’t get me wrong, I love the food. But sometimes it tastes like Chef Boyardee!!!!!

I don’t know if Supper is aware that we’re currently in the midst of an economic downturn, but maybe they should work on retaining their customers instead of scaring them away.

So we leave and end up going to Li’l Frankies. And, um yeah, it’s owned by the same people as Supper. And, once again, we encounter a hostess that has the warmth of a gargoyle.

Luckily, my friends and I still have an awesome dinner. A good evening is essentially about the company you are with. Everything else is peripheral. Well, except the mozzarella di bufala. That takes center stage.