Emily Post Might Disagree

What?!  Two blogs in one day? 

Listen.  Don't judge.  I have been silent for a while.  It was a given that when I let loose, the words would flow like verbal vomit.

I'm sorry.  Too vivid a word picture for you?

Deal with it.

So, I was reading a DEAR ABBY recently ... can I just stop here and say that I don't really like to read DEAR ABBY.  I mean, the people that write to ask her questions ... do they realize that ABBY is dead?  So that little tidbit begs the question, who is writing the answers to these crazy people's questions?  And furthermore, why not just call them by their given name?  Like DEAR MATILDA ... or DEAR RHONDA ... or DEAR SHAQUAWAYA ... or DEAR SALLY ... or ... listen I could go on and on with this one.  I have the staying power for it.  Trust me.

So, anyway, I was reading a DEAR ABBY recently wherein the author of the letter described being invited to a party, and then, rather abruptly uninvited.  The person asked "ABBY" (and lets put ABBY in air quotes because, let's be real, folks.  If ABBY were writing the answers to these letters, we've got bigger issues than the socially stunted authors of these letters) what she should do. 

And I was all, "Oh my gosh!  Who does that!?"

Then I had to stop and be all, "Wait!  That happened to me!"

Yep.  That is absolutely correct. I was invited to a party once.  I thought it was sort of odd that I had been invited to this particular party, but I decided to go because I didn't know a lot of people, and I thought it might be fun.  As the party date drew near, I started looking forward to it, but mere days before the party, one of the party throwers pulled me aside and said, "You know. This is really funny. There was a mistake.  You were invited because someone thought you were so and so's friend.  You don't have to come.  You can save money on a present this way!"

The un-inviter thought they were being funny -- they thought they were fixing their mistake.  What they were really being was horribly impolite and a hundred different ways of hurtful and just plain tacky.  So, I did what any good girl would do, I marched my stubborn butt into that party and let every one there feel horribly uncomfortable about the whole situation because Megan was invited to the party, but oops!  We really didn't mean to do so.

Rereading the letter, I felt qualified to answer this question, suddenly. I don't know. Emily Post would probably disagree, but I say, hold your head up high and let them kiss your sweet butt as you sashay your way through the throngs of party-goers. Then make a mental note to do two things:
  1. Never invite the un-inviter to anything you are throwing.
  2. Never go back to another party of theirs ... legitimate invite or not. 
This makes me think ... I should start my own column ... I can see it now ... DEAR MEGAN ....


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