Well, for once I didn’t overdo it.

I don’t know about you, but yesterday was one Thanksgiving where I ate a steady bunch of good, sinful stuff I never eat any other time, but somehow, it was not too much.

The same with drinking. I had a good bellyful over several hours, but not too much, and let’s start with that first.

For once, I skipped liquor and started with wine, and I think that was a big factor. If you’re any kind of drinker — and that’s what we all all, really: any kind — you might think a big holiday should start with two or three — or four — beefy blasts of whiskey-martini-stuff. Nothing wrong with that, in and of itself, but I think it gets you off on a wobbly (so to speak) foundation. First, you might not stop with two or three. Or four; and only danger lurks down that road. Not just imperiling your pleasantness for the meal and the rest of the night, but the next day as well, which, let’s be honest, is no fun at all. Frank Sinatra once said, “We pity the folks who don’t drink, because when they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.”

That’s witty and cool, but it masks a real concern: hangovers, no matter how you drape them, are terrible ways to spend a day, and the older you get, the higher the bill is. I haven’t needed viagra yet, but I sure wish those narrowly motivated scientists would get to work on an even more pressing problem, the day after, when the pressing problem feels like someone is pressing your skull.

So all I drank was wine, and certainly had enough to have an elevated mood for the right length of time, and it wasn’t just a little, either, but over the course of a five hour feast, ending in coffee and port, I drank a lot but I didn’t feel impaired, and knew I wouldn’t be walking around like an air raid victim the next day, which I’m not.

The food was great, and I hope yours was, too. My wife and her sister really went to town. My wife did a great turkey, and great gravy and stuffing, and great other stuff, too, but let’s be honest, if that stuffing and gravy and turkey and yams are good, that’s what you’re looking for. I mean, sure, the asparagus with tomato-something-or-other was terrific, and the homemade salad dressing was fine for the homemade salad, but that’s not what anyone’s going to be talking about, even to themselves.

Her sister, Helen, made a couple of scratch pies, apple and pecan, and for just the right touch of chemical American food we all secretly love, you can’t beat Cool Whip.

So here’s kind of a funny story that made me smile. At the Laugh Factory yesterday, where I told you Jamie Masada always throws a free turkey dinner with all the fixings, at three different sittings (because the line is so long). The servings are one, three and five, with each one having its own show, and I saw some old friends and terrific comics, Neal Brennan, Jimmy Brogan, Jason Stuart, Jerry Bednob, and Arsenio Hall, whom I hadn’t seen in years. It was nice to catch up, and I told him about the chapter in my book that describes the robes he gave out when you were on his show and how — this is absolutely true — I have worn two of his bathrobes every day, EVERY SINGLE DAY, ever since: a white one with an embroidered silhouette of him on the back, and a black one (now faded to grey) with the logo on the front pocket, “IT’S A NIGHT THING”. I met his mother in the early days for us at the Comedy Store, and she’s still well.

Anyway, all that’s good, and I had plenty of time to get back for our festivities, but here’s the kind of a funny thing, and you can file this under “Only In L.A.”.

I was serving rolls and butter and salad at the front of the procession, and a lot of folks came through. Many infirm, being helped by Jamie’s friends and family and comics, with crutches or walkers, or just a little out of it. Not all were old, too. Many were a tiny bit out of it. Many were completely fine and a little dirty, or just needed a good meal. Some with children, some with babies. Black, white, Asian, anything and everything. So many smiles, the easiest thing you could ever do, the easiest way to spread a tiny bit of good cheer.

I go to Walter Reed hospital whenever I’m in Washington to pass out books and laughs, and go into every room, and most of these fellows are grievously injured, but the first time I went they told me, “Now, if you feel a little queesy or upset, just say so, and we’ll take you to sit down for a while, or out for some air.”

I’m no tough guy, no even a little, but I didn’t have that problem. Not yesterday, either. Perhpaps part of a small gesture of kindness is not caring what the person looks like; really not caring. We all pass each other on the street, and no one wants to look, and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just human nature. But it’s a good lesson to keep realizing: There’s absolutely nothing difficult about looking and smiling, either.

So here’s the kind-of-funny thing. I talked with a lot of the folks as they passed with their plates, almost everyone, and there were some great smiles from them and nice compliments, which, as always, is just plain flattering, and deeply taken. And then after a particular stretch of folks who had to be helped along, a scruffy, slightly-out-of-it guy in his fifties shuffled by, and as I put the stuff on his plate he glanced up in the most completely matter-of-fact way and said, “You ever get a distribution deal on ‘Pros and Cons’?”

I wrote and starred in a movie called “Pros and Cons” about eight or nine years ago, with Tommy Davidson and Julie Warner and Delroy Lindo, and it was the first thing I wrote that got made, and I loved doing it and felt very lucky, and I think it’s pretty good. It never got distribution (theater sales) but was bought by HBO-Cinemax and shown a lot, and still pops up. Not getting a deal was disappointing, but, hey, that’s show biz, right? I still got to make it, and was very pleased with the work.

So this disheveled guy on the free meal line says, “You ever get a distribution deal on ‘Pros and ‘Cons?” and I said, “Wh-what?”

And he said, “I was up in Aspen for the festival when you won the award that year. Good movie, should’ve gotten out there, but folks were tighter with their money then, especially in A and R. You know, that’s an evergreen product, if you have the rights there’s no reason not to try again. You never know. Funny movie. You and Tommy were funny together.”

And I blinked a few times and smiled and said, “Thanks. I thought so, too. Thanks, pal.”

The people behind him were pushing, and he was already shuffling along anyway, and I didn’t quite know what else to say anyway. An executive with an emotional problem who just slipped off to the side? Drinking? Lost faith? Or maybe just a seedy guy who knows a thousand things no one would ever expect him to know?

Only in Hollywood, though, only in Hollywood.

I said to Neal, who was next to me, “Boy, you know, in this business, the same guy we just pitched an idea to last week could be on this line the next year. And the same folks who just passed on the line might be the head of development at Disney next year.”

Then Neal put it more succintly: “They could be on this side, and we could be on that side.”

Whoa. Another good reason not to drink too much.

REMEMBER: IF YOU WALKED OUT OF BED TODAY, AND WEREN’T TOO STUFFED OR FUZZY-HEADED, AND YOUR FRIENDS AND LOVED ONES GOT HOME SAFELY, AND YOU HAVE A ‘FRIDGE FULL OF FABULOUS LEFTOVERS — AND YOU’RE STILL ON THIS SIDE OF THE LINE… FOLKS, THE HOLIDAY’S OVER, AND YOU’VE WON.