Tag Archives: Leah Love

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: acceptable invitations

HALLOWEEN PARTY INVITESI’m co-hosting a Halloween party this year and I’ve begun to disseminate invites.  Some people I encourage in person, a few I email, some I text, but regardless of how I contact them I can clearly picture the bitchface each of them makes when they learn a costume is required.  And I’ve got a bitchface for them in return.  Once a God Damn year, that’s it, just suck it up and wear a costume.  Flex your atrophied creativity muscles and dig deep into the reaches of your overstuffed closet.  Don’t tell me there isn’t something you can throw together to wear.  I resent inviting people to shit and they act like it is such a chore.  Lately, my generous invitations have been returned with an ungrateful side order of “here’s how you can accommodate me” from the guest.  Come or don’t, but don’t act like this party is a celebration of you.  An invitation should be received with a “thank you for inviting me, I look forward to it” or “thank you for inviting me, I have a conflict.”  No further extrapolation needed.  And don’t forget our Leah Love wants an RSVP bitches!HALLOWEEN MAKE UP

Weirdest Wedding

 

PEAR TITSI attended the weirdest wedding this weekend.  I don’t know the couple very well, but they seemed hopelessly in love and I sincerely wish them a lifetime of happiness.  That said, they made some truly bizarre aesthetic and organizational choices that I must share with you.  I think it goes without saying that aesthetic opinions are not personal and the following judgmental bitchiness is merely recreational.  We all understand that ultimately it makes no difference what I think as long as the couple enjoyed their blessed day.  With that prologue behind us, let’s get to dissecting every poorly chosen detail.CUTOFFSThe ceremony was held at a large suburban church at 3 pm.  Our presence was requested at a quarter till and we arrived promptly on time.  Tardiness to weddings or funerals is absolutely unacceptable.  As we initially entered, folks were gathered around.  There were no greeters per se, but a guy shouted out us from across the room “to sign in over there.”  We walked up to a table where a number of mirrors were spread out on a table and a chick wearing fairy wings thrust a martini glass full of sharpies at us and ordered us to sign.  Uhhh, anybody got an eightball?  The only time I see mirrors arranged horizontally is when I’m railing lines off the top.  Shit, if it’s going to be that kind of a party I’m gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes.MIRROR GUEST BOOKSA few young women handed out thick (50+page) programs bound with glossy covers complete with photos of the couple.  A basket of mini namesake pencils sat on the table.  Only when we were ushered inside and seated did I start flipping through the program and realize that in addition to photos, memories, and the story of how the couple met, there were a number of mazes, word games, and trivia to play in the back of the program.  Was the couple planning for us to have a lot of down time in the coming hours?GREGORIANThe couple selected Gregorian chants for their pre-ceremony music.  Let’s celebrate our love listening to druids moan.  This was just the beginning of a number of ill-advised decisions the couple made in the realm of auditory accompaniment.   When it was time for the processional, each set of bridesmaid and groomsman werked their own theme song for their aisle walk.  That’s 5 different 30 second snippets of seemingly unrelated music played jarringly back-to-back.  The milky twilight song was involved folks.  The bride walked down the aisle to Hard to Concentrate by the Chili Peppers.  Nothing like getting serenaded by the Keanu Reeves of rock music on your wedding day.  G-sus.  Look, I get it, not everybody loves Brahms, but the music should be as classic and enduring as you hope the relationship to be.  If you must include the Chili Peppers, why not have a friend play an acoustic version on the guitar?  I can almost guarantee Grandma won’t adequately appreciate a Frusciante guitar solo in the Lutheran church ya’ll.FAIRY BRIDESMAIDSYou are dying to know about the bridesmaids’ dresses, right?  Bright Green.  Sateen.  Mini.  Bustled.  Flip-flops.  Fairy wings.  Truly Hateful.  The wedding dress reflected a similar level of discernment: white, sateen, gathered, sequined, fit-and-flare, topped with a tiara.  That’s my best effort at diplomacy people.BRIDE The ceremony itself was an unusual mix of super traditional Christian elements (The Lord’s Prayer, Unity Candle, Bible readings) and pagan imagery (plastic butterflies and fake flower arches).  The two exchanged hand-written vows.  The ceremony should culminate in a loving kiss, but instead the bride initiated a smooch and the groom reciprocated two lousy dry pecks in return.  I don’t need tongue or anything, but it was a dispassionate, disappointing, inexcusably limpdick showing.SMOOCHThe ceremony suffered from a number of guest disruptions.  I have never seen so many tiny babies at a wedding.  There were at least 3 infants and two were newborns.  Naturally, one cried throughout the ceremony and could be heard wailing from the gathering space outside.  Also in attendance was a teenage boy who I can only guess suffered from autism.  He had violent, loud, and aggressive outbursts which his weary parents repeatedly tried to contain.  A cell phone rang.  One dude wore shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops.  I am not kidding.WEAR SHOESThe ceremony concluded by 3:45 pm and the reception hosted by a nearby chain hotel didn’t start until 5 pm.  Now I understand the dense program and the monogrammed golf pencils.  Kill time doing a word search bitch.MAZESAfter dicking around for awhile in the car, we arrived at the reception starving and thirsty.  Channeled into a narrow hotel corridor outside the banquet room, guests were forced to precariously balance drinks, plates, and purses while standing awkwardly in the hall.  Hors d’oeuvres consisted of crudites and cheese & crackers.  Drinks, including non-alcoholic beverages, were available only by cash bar.  Did you hear me Lisa?  Nobody hates a cash bar like my friend Lisa.  That means my Diet Coke was $3 plus tip.  And the bartender was a complete cunt despite my charming demeanor.  Most of the guests hit up the lobby Starbucks and walked around with plastic cups with protruding green straws.  I just couldn’t bring myself to travel that far into tacky town.CENTERPIECE STARBUXWe snacked on the meager offerings and sipped our diminutive sodas.  Then we waited for what seemed like an eternity for the doors to open to the banquet hall – which they finally did – nearly an hour late.  Nothing like the sense of urgency of the listless underpaid staff at a chain hotel.  We located our table and sat down to our plastic butterfly martini glass centerpiece.  I surveyed the room and realized it was damn near a third empty.  Did that many guests RSVP and not show up I wondered?  (Leah Love asked you bitches to RSVP)  Most of the tables had empty chairs and there were some tables that were MORE empty than not.  It was the strangest thing and the explanation behind the soft turnout remained a mystery all night.  Empty chairs at the ceremony or reception simply cannot happen.CAM00060We sat with a fun, but cartoonishly odd, off-color couple from Canada along with his equally kooky sister and her Donn Gunvalsonesqe husband.  The slutty underage nieces kept coming over and pressing their nubile young titties on the toothy Uncle’s temples in exchange for shots of Jäger.  The whole scene nearly made me chunder my surprisingly delicious specially-plated vegetarian loaf.  A little tip from me to you: request vegan at weddings and often you’ll get your own specially prepared plate which allows you to bypass the buffet entirely (or barffet as we affectionately refer to it here at DC).  Later, the fortiesish wife of the handsy Uncle reappeared after a lengthy absence attired in one of the heinous Kermit-green bridesmaid dresses.  I have no idea who she shanked to get it or why.  Weirdest wedding ever.VEGGIE LOAFThe couple had a cute photo booth with funny hats and whatnot.  Everyone seemed to enjoy taking a cute souvenir picture.PHOTO BOOTHDuring dinner, the weary parents let the teenage autistic kid sit in the middle of the dance floor growling and yanking on a rubber cobra.  It was odd and distracting.  I sympathize with the entire situation.  Though perhaps the expectation that this severely disabled young man could endure a lengthy reception without causing serious disruption was somewhat unrealistic.KIDNAPPINGThe couple participated in a rather desperate and tasteless cash grab stunt involving the kidnapping and ransoming of the bride.  Cash was demanded for her return.  Cash was counted aloud.  More cash was requested.  Sorry guys, I spent all my cash at the bar on this watered-down well Scotch.CAM00071The wedding cake was a waxy chocolate with vaguely raspberry-flavored filling.  It was not delicious, but regardless of expense, wedding cake rarely is.RAINBOW CAKEThe bride and groom danced their first dance to a reworking of The Postal Service’sSuch Great Heights.”  It started slow and ended ska.  Embarrassingly, during the ska part the groom actually skanked around the dance floor.  The autistic kid had to be forcibly restrained and frankly I understood why.  It was all I could do to restrain myself.ACDJWhen the Brian-Johnson-from-AC/DC-resembling lesbian DJ started spinning top forty hits of the 80′s and 90′s and the white people started dancing, we decided to Walk Like an Egyptian right out the door while some of our dignity remained intact.DONUT DRESSBest wishes to the bride and groom.  Thank you for including me in your fairy tale day.  May your Mexican honeymoon be free of faucet ass and cartel kidnappings.MEXICAN KIDNAPPING

Gurl, lemme tell you about Midtown

Hey ya’ll, I hope you had a fantastic weekend.  I took a little trip to Atlanta this weekend for Music Midtown, a huge music festival held in Piedmont Park.  Who played?  All these mutherfuckers…..Before entering the show, we decided to have lunch at The Flying Biscuit, a southern chain know for it’s vegetarian-friendly options.  After a 20 minute wait, we were shown to our table.  I ordered tofu scramble.  It arrived with an infection of tiny shards of turkey bacon.  I asked my waiter, “is this meat?”  I couldn’t exactly tell what the small pink strips were.  He scooped up my plate and not long after the manager came over to our table.  She slid down the wall behind her into a deferential squat and said “Words cannot describe how appalled I am that errant pieces of turkey bacon somehow ended up in your tofu scramble.  I understand that when you adopt a commitment to a certain lifestyle, that the commitment is important.  Your lunch is on the house.  Is there anything else I can get you.”  Take note, mistakes happen, but it is the way these mistakes are addressed that matters.  The manager handled the situation with the utmost of professionalism.  She acknowledged the error, expressed an understanding of why a vegetarian would be appalled at discovering turkey bacon in a tofu scramble, and immediately rectified the situation.  This scenario could have resulted in a death-blowing Yelp review, but instead I must take time to create a pocket of praise for the Flying Biscuit and their top notch manager.  After our free lunch, we walked over to the park.  Attendees covered the shady hills blanket to blanket by the time we arrived.  We headed down to the sunny field and sat for a bit of Adam Ant.  Working an OG Captain Jack Sparrow look, Adam played a decent, if expected, set to a half-interested crowd.  After Ant, we shuffled over to the mainstage for LudacrisWho hates crowd participation?  I do!  Ludacris spent most of the set trying to coax his “true fans” (approximately 10%, though he erroneously believed that percentage to be much, much, higher) to sing along with his catalog of hits and flip the bird at one another.  Most absurd?  He tried to pretend that the show was spontaneous and that he was just pulling tracks out of his hat.  To maintain that illusion, he probably shouldn’t have presented prepared background visuals and lighting to accompany his supposedly unplanned set.  Don’t insult us Luda.  To add further insult, three-quarters of the way into the set his DJ played Smells Like Teen Spirit.  Yup, you absolutely read that shit correctly.  Mutherfucking Nirvana.  It was as if he and his people looked at each other and said, “What do white people like?”  The completely irrelevant foray into mid 90′s grunge felt absolutely pandering and gross.  Much like Snoop and Dre at Coachella, I felt intense 3rd person embarrassment and shame for the washed-up rapper. Next came Florence + the Machine, a band that has impressed me live in the past.  Florence flubbed her intro; it was not noticeable to the general crowd, but she must have referenced the mistake at least 4 times in the 75 minute set.  It wasn’t a big deal, but she belabored it to the point of annoyance, comparing the experience to arriving at school naked.  An absolute PLAZA QUEEN set up next to us with his cheesy Bob Marley backpack and bracelets and proceeded to sing every single song at the top of his lungs completely off-key.  It was so loud, disruptive, and pitchy that I unapologetically and continuously laughed out loud through the Coachella-similar set.  He was so enthusiastic, I couldn’t bring myself to remind him that it was not his American Idol audition.  It wasn’t just that his singing was bad, it was also the intensity and mood he was bringing to it – like he was at a Slayer show or something.  At one point the kid threw up the sign of the beast – AT A FUCKING FLORENCE + THE MACHINE SHOW!  Blanche, you’ve been dethroned; there is a new PLAZA QUEEN clawing at your crown, and he has a soundtrack child!We secured such a favorable position for Florence at the mainstage, we couldn’t bring ourselves to give up our spots to navigate across the crowded field to hear GirltalkGirltalk is super fun live, but we remained focused on the reason we came – Pearl Jam.  When Florence finished, and the crowd began to shift, we gained another 30 feet towards the stage.One major difference between Midtown and Coachella is that Coachella has way more geographical space with the polo grounds and all.  By the end of the night Piedmont Park was asses to elbows everywhere we looked in every direction as far as the eye could see.  I know Leah Love, your greatest fear right?  The uncontrollable mass crowd could easily become a riot or stampede at any moment and there isn’t shit law enforcement, Jesus, or Eddie Vedder can do to stop it.The dense crowd had more than its fair share of rude pushy assholes.  Or maybe I was just in a mood, I’m not sure.  I made some friends and I made some enemies.  So we’re all standing around waiting for 60 minutes for PJ to start.  The natives are getting restless.  We’re staring at an empty stage.  The crowd thickens and two girls roll up.  Late twenties-early thirties, taller, one blonde with tats, the other dark brown overgrown frizzy curls.  Brown-haired girl has shorts on and some sort of white doily top.  At first all is chill.  We’re all respecting each other’s personal space.  But soon brown-haired girl gets a little sloppy, a little loud, a little big.  And by big I mean her big ass is continuing to bump into me.  In a crowd like this, people bump into each other, no big deal, I blew it off.  After the third or fourth relatively firm contact, I gently guided her back to her spot and sweetly said “Mama I’m going to move you back over where you were.”  All is calm.  Girl is moved.  The waiting continues.  Her ass hit me again and this time in a wedge-in-front type of manner.  Again, I say “could you please stop hitting me?” a little firmer this time.  I stood my ground.  This is the part where half of you will lose respect for me and the other will throw a fist in the air.  Let me be perfectly clear: I’m not proud of what I’m about to confess.  I overhear the girl saying to her blonde tatted friend I’m just going to stick my ass into this girl (meaning me obviously).  The audacity!  I was appalled.  Anger surged through my body like steroids.  So against all logic and common decency that’s when I hip checked the girl – hard.  When she turned around surprised I sarcastically said excuse me in my best bitchy.   She responded by saying she knew it wasn’t an accident.  To which I respond, “You wanna tussle in this crowd?”  She had a beer can in one hand and began to raise her other hand.  I doubt seriously she was going to hit me, but this is where I would claim self-defense in a court of law.  I reached up and I snatched a handful of hair and took the bitch down.  Right there in front of everybody, to her knees, one hand.  I really wasn’t trying to hurt her.  If I were trying to hurt her I very easily could have taken out her front two teeth with my unicorn ring which I always wear to rock shows just for this very reason.  Blonde friend freaked and started to go for a handful of my hair when my brave companion stepped in and pushed everyone apart.  I threw up the fist, unicorn gleaming and said next time it’ll be this. (My very best “you wanna knuckle sandwich?”)  That’s when the verbal bitch slap began.  Blonde tatty kept shrieking “why?, why?, why?!” over and over again.  “Why do you have to get ghetto?” (Which I found fucking hilarious, because really how else can you be in a fight but ghetto?).  I said, “I asked you twice to stop touching me.  You continued to stick your fat ass in my face, and I will not continue to be assaulted by you for the rest of the night.”  Then brown-haired girl says, “My boyfriend loves my fat ass.”  And I said, “I bet he does when he’s got you bent over fucking you up the ass and you’re screaming and you love it.  I know your kind.  (insert slow head to toe bitch scan) Yeah, I know your kind.  I know your kind. (3X slow for effect) You are trash.” 

They then slinked away in humiliated defeat and I became the most celebrated figure in a 50 person radius with everybody wanting to know if I was indeed the girl in the fight.  A drunk Joel Roganesque dude kept coming up to me and saying over and over again “You won that, you so won that!”  If only I could win my dignity back.  Look it wasn’t ladylike, smart, mature, or classy, but in the immortal word Steven Hyde, Where Zen ends ass-kicking begins. If you are still reading, when those two bitches left we had a great time.  As an added bonus, the fight cleared quite a bit of space so we had a little breathing room.  Plus, we made friends with everyone around us because 1) they wanted to know the fight gossip firsthand, and 2) they wanted to stay on the good side of the unstable hair-pulling psycho girl.  Pearl Jam absolutely rocked our asses off with a killer set list including:  Rearview Mirror, Crazy Mary, + the obligatory Black, Alive, Elderly Woman, Nothingman, and Betterman

The show was fantastic, and almost worth all the bullshit.

 

The Current Rotation

Passion Pit • Constant ConversationsAlthea & Donna • Uptown Top Ranking Other Lives • Folk Songs (thanks Leah Love)Bat for Lashes • I’m on FireKimbra • Plain Gold Ring (live)

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: Leah Love Deserves an RSVP Dammit.

Loyal and lovely reader Leah Love wrote me with a request for a Demeter Clarc Manners Moment on RSVP etiquette.  Thanks so much for reading and writing to me Leah.  I really appreciate your kind words and support.  Here is an excerpt of LL’s letter.

I would love to see a post on the importance of RSVPing. I’m trying to affect change and influence behavior with a grassroots RSVP etiquette movement. As a person who throws my fair share of parties, nothing annoys me more than people not RSVPing. It’s so fucking rude, and it serves a real and important purpose: so the host knows how to properly provide food and drinks for her guests.  It seems like these days, with the casual nature of connecting caused by technology, that manners have fallen by the wayside.

Well said Mizz Love, well said.  Let’s be honest about the politics of the RSVP.  It goes without saying that anything involving a written, posted invitation requires a response.  Wedding invitations and baby showers, replies are 100% required for events of this nature.  Proper etiquette gets murkier the more casual the gathering.  This is a shitty thing to admit, but sometimes folks wait to reply hoping a better social opportunity comes along.  Only the cruel and honest truth delivered here at DC.As the host, you absolutely must make your expectations clear.  If you want an RSVP, you must unequivocally state in the invitation that you expect the courtesy of an RSVP and when you expect it.  If it is really important, add a “bitches” to the end.  RSVP bitches, or better yet “Don’t make me hunt down your RSVP you rude-ass bitches.”  See why I don’t throw many parties?I want to propose a different angle that you may not want to hear Leah, and please know I say this with Love.  Consider letting go of the need to know how many people will arrive.  Regardless of the number of confirmed RSVPs, guest attendance always fluctuates at the last minute.  Hosting a sit down dinner?  Fine, be rigid about a response.  Casual cocktails?  Why not just see who shows up?   I seriously doubt you have ever really run out of food or drink.  Reflect upon whether this is more about wanting to maintain control or about an irrational anxiety that no one will show up to your party.  Not to worry, of course they will come, because you are obviously social lava.  A relaxed host is a happy host.  Focus on your fun.     

 

3 ways to lose a sale

As many of you know, I’ve been car shopping.   After test driving several models, I’ve it narrowed down and know which one I want.  More on that later, right now I want to discuss how quickly and easily a salesperson can blow a deal.Don’t open the conversation by saying, “Do you know how much these things cost?” 

Make us feel welcome.  I’m no fan of small talk, but sitting silently in the backseat offering up nothing to the conversation is no way to make an impression.  Like you have nothing to say about the car?  At least bullshit about the weather.  jeesh.  Don’t assume that the dude is making the decision.  Because he’s not.  Furthermore, learn how to sell cars to women.  We don’t want to fuck with the tiptronic shit on the test drive.  Focus on safety, responsiveness, efficiency, and style, not gadgets and gears. Letcha know all the dirty details when I close a deal.  Special thanks to Annie and the super auto-wise Leah Love for the insightful advice.  xoxo, DC

Demeter Clarc Artist Spotlight: LEAH LOVE

Hey Friends.  Demeter Clarc  artists.  If you are interested in submitting a portfolio of original work for DC’s Artist Spotlight, let’s talk.  For contact scroll all the way down there to the bottom.

LEAH LOVE LEGS

Hey friends, DC loyalist Leah Love wrote asking about giving good gams.  Her letter appears (with permission) below.

Sooooo, I need your advice: liquid pantyhose?  I’ve been anti-hose
since the mid-90s, especially the nude ones. Occasionally during the
winter time I will wear some sheer black stockings, but that’s about
it.  But now that I’m in my mid-30s and have been in a car accident, a
motorcycle accident, broken my leg twice (separate from the motor
vehicle accidents btw), torn my meniscus, and had a tumor removed from
my leg, I have some weird coloration in a couple spots on my legs
(they’re probably a lot more noticeable to me than anyone else).
Actually, now that I list all that shit out, I’m thinking my legs look
pretty good after all!

Anyway, I remember a few years back this queen I knew telling me about
liquid pantyhose and making your legs look like silk. I have never
used it, don’t know where to get it, and definitely don’t know which
brands are better than the others, so I thought I’d ask for your two
cents.

LL, here’s at least twenty five cents worth of options for you.  Please enjoy.Getting directly to the heart of your question, air stockings, liquid pantyhose, called by whatever name, are a great option for camouflaging veins and minor imperfections.  Different formulas have different finishes, so personal preference will guide the selection.  These products are not self-tanners.  They are similar to bronzers, but typically provide better coverage and are less slippery on sweaty summer days.  For best results, dispense product on hands and then rub into legs. Budget: Sally Hansen Spray On Subtle Shimmer, Air Stocking Silk Spray

Luxury: Classified Cosmetics ERA RAYZ Spray On Bronzer, Judith August Invisible Stockings For Silky Sexy LegsBody bronzers are another alternative: temporary like liquid stockings, but with less coverage and staying power and more moisture.  This group is best for evenings out as they many contain shimmer that can be a little much for the daytime. Here are some pricey but decent options: Nars Body Glow, Booty Parlor Flirty Little Secret Firming Bronzer Cream (Booty Parlor claims this stuff contains pheromones, so do with that what you will…), Scott Barnes Body Bling, and Lorac TANtilizer.Michael Kors offers Leg Shine and Tarte makes Glam Gams, both variations of bronzers hyper-focused on legs.  These formulas come in stick form – good for travel. Hippies might like all natural Dr. Hauschka Translucent Bronze Concentrate which turns ordinary lotion into bronzer with a few pumps. Finally, consider a self-tanner + bronzer combo which gives you instant gratification and a parting gift of gradual color for later.  You all know the self-tanner rules: exfoliate, moisterize rough spots first, wear gloves, and take the time to apply carefully.  There are several pocketbook friendly options in this category: Australian Gold Continuous Spray with Instant Bronzer SPF 15, L’Oreal Sublime Bronze, or Urban Decay Santa Tanita.

Thanks for your letter Leah Love.  Don’t forget to tell us what you try and how you like it.  XOX, DC