Thank our girl Blanche for this one folks. Early in February, Blanche received a tacky save-the-date email from two betrothed friends. At the end of March, she received this email from the couple:
Hi Everybody!
We have decided to cut back the scope of our wedding and are now planning an alternative ceremony with immediate family and will be canceling the July 19 ceremony.
What started as a desire to throw a simple party for friends and family quickly grew into something neither of us wanted and no longer represented the evening we had in mind. Thank you for all your love and support! We love all of you, it’s just really expensive to feed you :)
With love,
(names withheld to protect the guilty)
Where to begin with this? G-SUS. Yeah, let it wash over you. Rub it in your skin. The pair has the audacity to disinvite guests whom they’ve already asked to save-the-date. To add another layer of grime to the email, they dangle the morsel that they will still be having a festive little clan gathering, you just don’t warrant an inner-circle invite. If that weren’t enough, the reason you can’t come is because you eat too much. Well fuck you too then. And don’t expect a gift either. 
Quick question, when did it become appropriate to let unrestrained farts fly in mixed company? Just wondering, because lately dudes (in particular) have been loudly farting nearby and don’t seem to give a fuck who hears. 
To be clear, the offering isn’t a joke – like a ha-ha toot and run. No, we’re talking unabashed shameless flatulence. I notice all you “clean” eaters are especially unlimited in your willingness to share your exhaust. 
Look, nobody wishes to suffer through painful bloating with no release, but can a mutherfucker please muffle that ass? G-sus.
I am not a fan of chitchat. To paraphrase Bethenny Frankel (sorry), I don’t like small talk, I like big talk. Perhaps the most annoying question – more annoying than “where are you from?” or “what do you do?” is – What kind of music do you listen to?
I fucking loathe this question for a myriad of reasons. First, when asked my mind inevitably goes blank, and all I can think of is Bob Marley. This answer is almost as annoying as the question because who the fuck doesn’t like Bob Marley? 
Second, it’s a loaded fucking question. The asker is really leveraging this question to bathe you in judgment. For example, if you say indie, then you become Indie and all that it implies. The most commonly tired-ass trite answer to this question is, “…anything but country.” But for those hedgers, I have one word for you: Jolene. If you go super obscure, you risk looking like a try-hard douche, and if you answer Maroon 5, then you are a douche. 
Third, the people who like to ask this grating question also like to follow it up with a pop-quiz. Oh, you like techno, have you heard the new Trentemøller? (Word of advice, if you must answer this dreadful question don’t ever answer with “techno” even if you fucking love techno). Oh, you like The White Stripes, have you heard Jack White’s new solo album? These questions just become an opportunity for the asker to act like an all-knowing asshole. 
Asking someone’s music taste is a generic inquiry and answering it is rife with potential dignity issues. Nobody really cares what kind of music anybody listens to anyway, so let’s all come up with some new thinly-veiled opportunity for judgment. 
All but the very least civilized among us know that the napkin goes in the lap. That’s table manners 101, right? Well, apparently the advanced napkin etiquette class is less popular. So few understand what should happen with a napkin and what most certainly should not happen with a napkin during the course of a meal. 
Even though most of us get the first part right, I’m always amazed how many napkins on tabletops I see even at high-end establishments. It’s not napkin show and tell. Skills for life. 
Ever sit across from someone and know without a doubt he or she is lying? Do you “innocently fib” all the time and delude yourself into believing you got away with it?
Newsflash: you aren’t successfully deceiving. Everyone thinks they can lie. In actuality, the recipient of the untruth is either too polite or too indifferent to mention your obvious dishonesty. 
A white lie indicates much about the teller. It signals the liar basically believes the exact opposite of the spouted bullshit. Exaggerations get thrown into the conversation to distract from palpable insecurities. 
Lying is not only rude, it’s downright cowardly. Kindly and courageously speak the truth or say nothing it all. 
Lately a lot of folks have been heavy into the self-love. That’s fantastic – self-esteem and whatnot. I really don’t want to hear about it though, and neither does anyone else, okay?
In a overall dull season of RHNY, Carole and LuAnn constantly try to outdo each other with petty one-upmanship, and it reduces both women to their least interesting selves. 
Let others shine light on your accomplishments. Reconsider listing your best qualities to others in conversations that are not job interviews. Confidence is knowing your strengths and letting others discover them. The insecure boast in an attempt to distract from their profound weakness. 
When you are constantly complimenting yourself, it leaves no room for others to compliment you. Ever notice that? I was talking to a woman the other day and I slipped a kind word into our conversation. Her response to my flattering remark? “Yeah, I know.” Well, if you know, then I guess I don’t have to tell you. And from now on, I won’t. 
Some people like massages. Some people like expensive wine. I like sleep. For me it is the greatest luxury, but it can be quite elusive. Meaningful sleep at times requires coddling, so I’m always exploring options for extending my stay in dreamland. 
Cut the data connection to the bedroom. Seriously, isn’t it enough we have to endure the constant intrusion of cell phones on the dinner table, but the bedside table too? Most modern cell phones emit significant light and noise even when dimmed and set to vibrate. I know many folks use their cell phones as alarm clocks. If you enjoy undisturbed sleep with a cell phone by your head, then no problem (other than that pesky radiation), but if you are up in the middle of the night obsessively texting and checking Facebook then that explains why you are acting like a cranky asshole during the day.
In times of desperation, the following options never fail: 1) a doobie, 2) an orgasm. Try getting stoned or laid or both before popping one of those crazy and dangerous sleeping pills. 
I understand the point of a registry: to make sure you don’t end up with a bunch of fug shit you don’t want. However as a gift-giver, I find the increasing use of registries frustrating. 
I’ve been invited to a bridal shower I can’t attend. The invitation says the couple is registered at a couple of different places. When I looked over the registry, it is all overpriced housewares items I could find identically for less. That is another annoyingly limiting quality of a registry – lack of opportunity for bargain shopping. 
When I’ve deviated from the registry in the past, the recipients actually stated in the thank you note that they returned the item (lovely robin’s egg blue Nigella Lawson nesting bowls) for something more in line with their color scheme (beige, beige, boring, boring). Whatever, you wanna live your life in black and white that’s your biznass, but I cannot actively contribute to dull. 
Recently, I’ve taken to perennially pleasing cash for wedding gifts. Who’s mad at cash? Nobody. But cash is not an appropriate gift for a bridal shower, so that’s not going to work under the present circumstances. 
It is so much more fun to find a memorable and quirky gift. You can buy your own flatware, but would you ever buy yourself a cuddling bunny sculpture? Probably not. To appease everyone involved, I’ll pick up something from the registry and add a little bonus flare of my own. 