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.
Cat lovers scroll on through. I’m about to go on an anti-cat rant that’s going to make your pussy hurt. (Michael, Katie, I mean it.) Why am I filled with feline vitriol you ask? Because I spent the day bleach mopping cat piss out of sub-flooring, that’s why. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH CAT PISS ANYWAY?
I know, I know, you love your cat. Your cat does for you what no person could. I get it. Do you get that when cats get old they piss everywhere and it is FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE to remove the smell? Do you realize a nuclear apocalypse would not eradicate that stank of cat pee from your apartment? 
In addition to destroying your home with their incontinence, cats can transmit diseases and parasites to people including, but not limited to: Toxoplasmosis, Leptospira, the Plague, Rabies, roundworm, hookworm, ringworm, Salmonella, and tapeworm. Yeah, keep letting kitty climb all over your kitchen. Add a side order of tapeworm to that PB&J. 
As you all know, I’m a staunch defender of our animal friends. I don’t eat or wear them. But I also don’t keep any pets for a variety of reasons. Do I really hate cats? No. Do I really hate irresponsible dirty-ass cat owners? Fuck yes. 
And while I’m getting up after all you pet owners, dog people CLEAN UP FIDO’S SHIT. Why don’t I take a dump on your lawn? How about that? Fucking gross yo.
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.
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 
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. 
In the last two weeks, 2 different white women in their forties spoke racist comments to me. I have a hunch these affluent white women would describe themselves as liberal, educated, well-traveled, and certainly not racist. White devils abound lurking in unexpected places. The question becomes: how to seize the moment to educate rather than condone or chastise? 
In truth, the first comment was a drive-by, so I didn’t have an opportunity to ask her what the fuck she meant by her derogatory statement. 
Still feeling the resonance of the oversight, when the next bigot bomb dropped from a second source, I was more prepared with a rebuttal. At first I asked what she meant by what she said, then I asked her why she felt that way. I let her explain her experience, and tried to point out both her hysteria and complicity in the situation she described. Did I drastically change her views and prejudices? Perhaps not, but I would consider it a small victory if her notions infinitesimally shifted in a less hateful direction. 
White people make me tired. Maybe it’s just these unrelenting 5:00 am mornings? Naaw, it’s the white people.
Yesterday, I began an intensive training with a well-known Expert. Almost 40 people paid a few thousand bucks each to spend 9 hours a day with this woman for the next 25 days. So today after sitting around howling at the Moon, the instructor turns to one of underlings who informs us that Expert “isn’t available during breaks or after class.” Bitch Please. The instructor is raking in over $150,000, and she can’t bother to say hello in the hallway? I totally understand time vampire sycophants, but I’m pretty sure you can get a VIP ticket with a little face-to-face time with fucking Beyoncé for $4,000. Slow your roll with the “totally unavailable” talk. Not only is this a rude and self-important first impression, but what kind of teacher imposes such an impersonal limitation on the student-teacher relationship?
After several recent appalling experiences on the subway, Blanche D’Almonds requested a Demeter Clarc Manners Moment on the social boundaries of public grooming. This one’s for you Blanche. 
No public nail clipping please. In China public nail clipping is a socially acceptable practice, but you don’t live in China do you? I’m pretty sure this website is banned in China. Public nail clipping should be banned everywhere. 
A tacky bitch labors under the delusion that a public lipstick application is some sort of foreplay for the orally fixated. Do not break out your compact and lipstick at the dinner table. Ever. 
Along with your compact and lipstick, keep your hairbrush in your bag until you reach private quarters. Furthermore, keep your hands out of your hair whenever in the presence of food. 
No matter how tempting, keep your fingers out of your mouth in public. This prohibition includes teeth picking, nail biting, and thumb sucking. Note how enchanting Catherine Zeta-Jones looks extracting her appetizer from her incisor.
So I was talking to one of my favorite people ever today. He’s been mentoring a cousin semi-new to the scene and trying to instill the proper etiquette into the young man for navigating the treacherous waters of the modern gay world.
My impeccably clean and well-mannered pal has extended his home to his ill-mannered cousin on a number of occasions. In the past, cugino harmlessly and forgettably annoyed friend and his put-upon partner when staying over, but recently the off-side twat went too far.
After arranging his cuz comfortably and appropriately in front of the tv on the couch, friend trusted his cousin in his apartment unattended for a short window of time.
How did friend know about the trespass? Cousin left the dirty ass toy on a washcloth next to the sink like a parting gift. He did not even bother to wipe it down with the rubbing alcohol conveniently adjacent.
So just in case any of you extra sloppy-ass invasive bitches (paging punk cousin) need a remedial manners moment, using someone else’s butt fun without permission is not a gesture of gratitude.
On at least three or four occasions during the last couple months I’ve been pleasantly enjoying my dinner when one of my dining companions spoils my meal by blowing her nose at the table. As far as table manner offenses go, blowing a huge snot wad at the table ranks right up there with picking your teeth with your fingernail. Fucking gross yo. 
If your nose is running, go catch it in the bathroom. Don’t ruin my delicious Pad Ped with your disgusting mucus flood. Don’t top off an already revolting gesture by throwing what was once your napkin, but now your hankie, on your worked-over plate. Seriously, a snotty dinner ain’t cute, so think before you blow your schnoz at the table. Bon Appétit.