Holiday Etiquette: If Someone Sends You an Invitation

Howdy Folks...

Laverne here again, taking a quick break from dazzling the world with my mad Christmas decorating skillz (I spelled that with a Z so you know I totally mean it) this cold, Texas afternoon, to talk to y'all a little bit more about etiquette. Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking.

"Did I just stumble across the Miss Manners blog?"

No. That's not it at all (plus, I totally hate that uppity bitch). But, it is the holiday season and I feel like it is my personal responsibility to pass along these unspoken rules of etiquette (and by unspoken, I mean, things you just cannot, must not do) to those who may be totally unaware that society dictates that we treat others respectfully. Whether or not they deserve it is a completely different story.

So, here is a holiday anecdote about my friend Gina. Which is totally not her real name, but you know, we can't go around just exposing everyone...

Gina is a nice gal. Sweet. Very smart. Incredibly witty, dazzlingly gorgeous. Always gentle and kind with great hair. She has four of the most handsome sons you will ever meet, who are (of course) well-mannered and polite. You would be totally jealous of her if you knew her. Trust me.

A few years ago, Gina was busily preparing for Christmas. She had two baby showers to plan (because she is ridiculously generous too), a home to decorate and clean, food to cook, and lots of shopping to do. And because she is so kind and generous, she offered up her home to her in-laws that year, in addition to her very own family, thinking that it would be nice to all spend the holidays together.

(okay, that last part is a load of crap, because her parents are divorced and hate each other, her husband's father and his wife are insane burned out hippies and her mom probably would have beaten her dad's new wife to a bloody pulp, but that didn't really fit in with the story here so...)

After much hemming and hawing, her in-laws (blessedly) declined and so Gina went about her normal holiday business, happy to have one more thing crossed off her Christmas list.

Weeks went by. Her list dwindled, plans were made, her home glistened and sparkled, gifts were wrapped and under the tree, everyone's favorite holiday sweaters were clean and pressed, family had arrived and before Gina knew it, it was Christmas Eve!

She had just gone to switch out a load of laundry that morning when her phone rang.

Hello?

Hello Gina, this is your fabulous mother-in-law calling from Tennessee!

Oh, hi there! How are you mother-in-law?

Well, I was just calling to see if you had received your surprise Christmas package yet?

My surprise Christmas package? No, I don't guess I have.

(Gina's wheels were turning fiercely at this moment, wondering what her mother-in-law meant)

Well, sister-in-law just happened to mention that my ex-husband called from the road to say that they are surprising you for Christmas.

(Gina, rarely flustered, was totally caught off-guard)

No, mother-in-law, I'm afraid you misunderstood. You see, they told us they weren't coming for Christmas. I can't imagine that they'd tell me no if they really meant yes. This is quite the conundrum.

Well, good luck to you Gina. I certainly hope I'm wrong.

(okay so the conversation didn't exactly go that way, but it also didn't fit with Gina's sunny disposition, so...)

Upset and confused, Gina quickly called Mr. Gina.

Ah, yes. I seem to recall grandmother hinting that they might be on their way here.

Gina hung up the phone, reeling. "Who shows up for Christmas unannounced on Christmas Eve?"

Suddenly, the phone rang again.

Hello?

Hello. Do you need a Christmas ham?

A Christmas ham? No, I don't believe I do. Are you offering one?

Oh. Well, we thought we would bring one this evening for dinner.

Did you? Well (nervous laugh), I guess we could always use extra! What time should we expect you?

Right about now....

(Gina looked out her front window to find a familiar car pulling up to the curb)

Now, as I've said before, Gina is rather generous. She is kind. She can be tolerant. And so, for the sake of keeping the peace at Christmastime, she chose tolerance. It would not be the last time Gina carelessly made this mistake with her in-laws.

And because Gina is always prepared for guests, she made room at the table for an extra two people. She served them beer and wine graciously (even though they carried enough in their suitcases to keep a bar operating for days), laughed when they joked about ruining her holiday, and hid her displeasure each time they rudely insulted her family. She didn't so much as flinch when she was berated for daring to buy Christmas gifts for her husband and children (and not herself) with the hundreds of dollars they apparently "only" sent for Mr. Gina. She did not complain when she was given a $25 gift card for a mall 800 miles away. No, Gina held strong. And it would not be the last time Gina made this mistake either, but she is kind and generous with a good heart and so she is stupid enough to think that maybe at some point they will change.

(for the record, they don't)
So, here is a recap of today's lesson.

-Do not decline an invitation if you plan on actually accepting it

-Do not show up unannounced

-Do not show up unannounced on Christmas Eve with a burnt maple and brown sugar ham that's just spent two days in a car wrapped in plastic wrap.

-Do not take advantage of other people's hospitality

-Do not treat your daughter-in-law's family poorly.

-Do not show up drunk or continue to get drunk to the point of embarrassment

-Specify who you're sending money to, so you don't yell at your daughter-in-law on Christmas Day

-Don't buy a gift at all if your sole intent is to be an asshole

-Do stay in Tennessee for the holidays and spare everyone the agony of your presence

I think that's it.

Happy Mannerly Holidays, friends!

~Laverne~

The Insufferable Family of Assholes

Hi.

My name is Laverne. And I have a problem with Insufferable Assholes.

(Hi, Laverne)

A few weeks ago, Lucy and Ethel kindly asked me to write a guest post, surely in the hopes that I would bring my hilarious wit and wisdom to this fair blog. Not that I think they need it, I just like to toot my own horn here people. I quickly RSVP'd with a "frackin' absolutely" and then, like any etiquette-minded woman of the south would do, I buried it in my inbox and promptly forgot.

Obviously, I do not have much room to talk about rudeness here. But, let's pretend that I do, okay? Because, I feel obliged to tell you all about my traumatic experience at the local picture show Saturday morning featuring none other than The Insufferable Family of Assholes.

Here's how it started.


My oldest son's orthodontist was kind enough to rent out four screens at the movie theater in order to let his patients see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows free of charge. Pretty sweet, huh? Parents were allowed to reserve as many tickets as they wanted and upon receipt, I discovered that we would also be getting a large popcorn and drink. For free. Not a bad deal, especially for opening weekend.

Me being the nerd that I am, snapped up three tickets. One for me, one for Boy Number One and one for BNO's best friend, though feeling a tad bit guilty over our three whopping tickets. After a few minutes of internal debate, I decided that I'd probably paid for those three tickets more than enough over the course of BNO's orthodontia experience. And apparently, I was not the only person who felt this way.

The theater was a madhouse. Packed to the gills for 8:30 on a Saturday morning. The three of us quickly grabbed our snacks, made a break for the potties and then headed for theater eight.

Now, I should point out here that I am an awesome mom. Awesome. Because, even though it made me absolutely, terrifyingly nauseated, I let the boys pick their seats in the middle of the second row. I did not encourage them to sit in the back, where my feeble eyes could see. I did not ask them to anything equally lame, like hold my purse. I even hid my tears when Dobby died (look, if I'm giving something away at this point in the game, it's your problem, not mine).

So, we sit down and I immediately take note of the Insufferable Family Of Assholes sitting in the row in front of us. That's right. Insufferable. Family. Assholes. This adequately describes the scene.

Honestly, it's not like you could miss them. A family of six. All roughly 350lbs. All squeezed into their seats with their tubby little hands clamped down on the popcorn like someone was about to steal it right out from under them. Little boy whining because he wanted more soda. Parents fighting over who has to go to the bathroom before the movie starts. Yelling. Cursing. General bad behavior that would have embarrassed Grandmama had she stopped making love to her damn pickle for two minutes and taken notice. Pretty sure someone smelled too.

And as if that weren't enough, they made four (yes, that's quatro for our Spanish speaking friends) trips out to the lobby for more popcorn and drinks in the twenty minutes before Harry, Ron and Hermione made their appearance onto the screen.

Yes. Really.

Satisfied, though apparently not stuffed to the gills because they all kept complaining, they settled in just as the theater went dark. And that's when it started.

You know how when you're in a movie and you're tryin' to get all comfortable and you might accidentally lean back too far and smush the poor person behind you? And, you think to yourself, "well crap, that was kinda rude...my bad." Yeah. Apparently, Grandpa didn't have the good sense (or human decency, your pick) to stop doing it.

The first time, I let it go.

The second time, I might have sighed or rolled my eyes.

The third time, I cleared my throat.

The fourth time, I loudly whispered "seriously?!"

The fifth time? I kicked him back.

By the time Junior got scared and started whining to sit with Grandmama (which caused all of them to heave themselves from the chair and change places), I was ready to scream. I may have also been gearing up to kick some Insufferable Asshole hiney. But then, Nagini the snake jumped out and scared the living daylights (and possibly a few other things) out of me and I'd momentarily thought about excusing myself and running to the Southern Belle's Room.

Thankfully, that shut them the hell up and the rest of the movie was relatively pleasant.

I hope they thanked their damn lucky stars.


So, let's recap here.

Someone does something nice for you, which makes the following things unacceptable:

Inviting the entire county to this free event.

Enjoying an all you can eat buffet at the expense of the host and other guests.

Irritating a room of 300 people by yelling, "MAKE HIM TAKE A PISS ALREADY!"

Airing out your dentures (although, this is basically never okay in public).

Using your cell phone to text the person next to you, check Facebook or Tweet that you're watching Harry Potter for free and wish you could have another pickle.

Ramming the woman behind you in the knees with your seat to the point where she's about ready to beat the shit out of you with her hot pink Croc.

~Laverne~

*Disclaimer: I'm not hating on fat people. I am one. Though, I'd describe myself as cherubic, chubby, adorable, pleasantly plumped, voluptuous. Surely you get where I'm going here.

It's Time To MAN UP!

I'm sick. Terribly sick. I think I have the flu. I went to the doctor yesterday and was told that it is some sort of "virus." I should be good to go in 7-10 days. The problem is, my dear husband doesn't get it. He thinks that I'm not-so-sick just because I didn't get a prescription. Perhaps I should appease him by taking some sugar pills? I don't know.

Last night, he dragged me all over town running errands, with the promise of dinner on the other end. I was so tired I could barely eat. He did the same last Friday, the day I first got sick. He expects me to keep up with the kids, laundry, chores, and all just because I'm a woman and that's what I normally do anyway. Yeah, it's my job. Well, guess what? He's off work this week. If he's going to invite his brother over to dinner (which he did, he comes tonight), then why can't my dear husband get off his lazy ass and pick up all of his crap?! If the doctor sends me home to bed, then why can't I just go there? Why? Oh, right, because I'm not that sick.

Now, in all fairness, my dear dear husband has spent the better part of the past few weekends working around the house, doing home improvement-type projects. He's in the middle of one now. But, you know what? The project is outside and it rained all day yesterday, yet who do you think was still stuck changing the baby's poopy diapers?  Man, he needs to man up. I'm going to bed. I'll get up when my cough, aches, and fever are gone or the house falls in.

Lindsey

Discover a myriad of musings, tales, recipes, random thoughts, and quotes of the day, all taken from snapshots of the adventures of One Creative Housewife.

Thanks Lindsey for being our first ever Guest Blogger!!  Come on back and sit a spell...there's dirt to dish, and friends who want to hear what you have to say.