Miss(ed) Manners

November 30, 2007

Ask Dave! Vol. 18

Filed under: Ask Dave,Humor — missedmanners @ 4:08 pm

When addressing an invitation should the man’s name be first? Or should it be next to the last name?
for example the whole family is being addressed
Man, Wife & children’s names and then last name?
Joe(Man of family),Sue(women of the family)SuzieQ (1st child, BillyBob (son) and then the last name?

I heard the mans name was always next to the last name.

No offense, nameless reader, but this question pertains to the most useless of all the mostly useless halls of manners theory: Labeling and Ordering.

The short answer to your question is: Who cares?

There isn’t a long answer.

Though I can understand the motivation for asking such a question. I grew up with three siblings. Around the holidays we’d get a billion Christmas cards because we were awesome. Friends, family, forlorn church members hoping in vain to try to lure us back to worship with scripture covered cards about Jesus. Because we all know that people who’ve stopped going to church love nothing more than getting witnessed through the mail.

Anyway, whenever we’d get one in the mail I would always make note of the order in which they wrote down our family’s names. Doug, Barb, Dave, Dan, Jon, Katie. It was never in one particular order, but I always noticed who put my name in front of which of my siblings. Then I would catalog those who had and had not in my mind and treat them with the according amount of love or hate during the following year.

Put my name last? You get no kiss on the cheek when I see you out.

Put my name first? Ass slap and a wink.

Somewhere in the middle? Usually that was also an ass slap and wink. I was a particularly uncouth little boy.

So in summary I’d say the only real guidelines you should follow are the ones that will lead you to getting naughty touches from the young man of your choice. They notice, believe me.

November 28, 2007

It’s Over There By The FAO Schwartz

Filed under: 9/11,Rants — missedmanners @ 6:16 pm

When I was out getting lunch today someone came up to me and quietly excused himself. Under his breath he asked me, “Which way is Ground Zero®?”

He almost sounded ashamed, like I would be offended that he not know where it is.

I was offended, sure, but not because he wasn’t as informed about our great national tragedy as he ought to be.

I was offended because that place isn’t a fucking tourist spot and regardless of why he was headed there, that guy represented to me any one of the thousands of people I’ve seen standing around staring at that hole in the ground in somber silence.

You don’t go there to take pictures. You don’t go there to try and identify with something. You don’t go there to buy a motherfucking NYFD hat because you know a volunteer firefighter back in Ohio and he’s a hero too. You go there to take a train because there’s a big PATH station below it and that’ll take you off our island and back to Jersey where you can drive away.

If you didn’t live here when it happened, if you didn’t see them fall from less than a mile away, if you didn’t know anyone who died in there on that day, then it’s not your tragedy. It’s not your tragedy because no matter what the news tells you, no terrorist will ever target a mall in North Dakota. Just paying taxes in this country doesn’t mean you get to go there and get filled up with some kind of phony spiritualism six years after the fact.

So if it wasn’t your tragedy and you’re standing around snapping shots of the world’s slowest construction project and you’re saddened by the senseless, preventable loss of life… then logically you should be just as upset that ten times that number die every day in even more preventable fashions all over the world.

You should be outraged, in fact.

What are you doing standing around?

Go find a Red Cross office and volunteer.

November 27, 2007

Adolescent Hair

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 5:25 pm


Starting about two months ago I decided to go from this:


To this:


Minus the Sarah Connor tumor and bad makeup of course.

I’ve been mowing my scalp like a suburban lawn for way too long and it’s about time I let my locks down, Rapunzel style.

So what’s the problem? I’ve got adolescent hair now. It’s in between short and regular and sticking all over the place. I definitely feel weird and look weirder.

I can’t even wear a hat because I’ve got a weird shaped giganto-head.

These are lean times on the hotness meter. I’ve got pseudo-anime hair and I’m pushing a soft 7 out of 10. Which is really fucking low considering my ego.

Do you think if I Rogained my non-balding head it would make my hair grow faster?

November 26, 2007

Ask Dave! Vol. 17

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 5:18 pm

Hey Dave,

So my boyfriend dumped me quite unceremoniously, citing that he was far too busy to have a girlfriend in his life at this point and that as he is going to be moving out of state for a job with Microsoft (yeah, he’s a tool) within a year, he didn’t want a long distance relationship.

It took me a long time to get over him, as we had continued to fool around up until a month ago (oops, but I only did it because I thought we might get back together). I thought that I was now over him when suddenly…

I learned yesterday through an infamous social-networking site, which will not be named, that he is in a relationship with a girl he’s in a co-ed fraternity with. Incestuous yes, and what about those reasons he gave me!?! A week ago, he was telling me how he was so relieved that he was single because he just didn’t have any time for a girlfriend.

Is he a liar? And what about a coward for not having the balls to tell me this news personally? I’m livid and also feel very unwanted… I need someone impartial to explain this to me.

Newly Christened Man Hater

Oh NCMH, you’re in luck today as I’m in a  particularly honest mood.

I’m not going to try and sooth your wounded heart with the old, “all men are dogs” comedy routine, you should know that by know. Actually, the blame for this situation lies on the shoulders of both you and your estranged computer nerd.

Let’s start out with a generalization that is always true except in the cases where it is not:

  • Men don’t want to be in relationships. Most of the time, anyway. I’d say on average 80% of relationships form without the Male’s knowledge. He usually only realizes what’s happened while at lunch with his  now girlfriend of five month’s parents.

Most men live under the misguided notion that relationships only start after a point wherein both parties agree, out loud, that they are in a relationship. A verbal contract, if you will. Any time spent outside of the time specified within the confines of said contract are non-relationship status and require the performance of no boyfriend duties.

So, no, your ex is not a liar. Guys have always been and will always be too busy for a relationship. I would say with a pretty large amount of confidence that he probably was just hooking up with this new girl and got blind-sided by the unspoken implied relationship contract system that most women operate under.

Is he a coward for not telling you? I would venture to say that the same majority of men who are clueless to the whole relationship issue are all cowards as well. They’re an entire generation of men who have been socially castrated by years of sensitivity training and those god-damned 90’s. They are scared to death of ever saying anything that might anger a woman. I blame Cagney, Lacey and Mama from Mama’s House.

Now you might say, what’s wrong with men not wanting to say anything that might anger a woman? I mean, they have been oppressing us for, well, all of time, right?

I’ll tell you what the problem is.  It’s not that they don’t want to anger women in general. It’s that they don’t want to say anything to anger them. Huge difference.

So they never say anything. It’s a lot easier that way.  See, to a man, a crying woman is like a ticking time bomb with ten seconds on the counter and about fifty different colored wires sticking out all over the place. It’s more than likely we’re going to cut the wrong one and make the situation infinitely worse.

Now here’s what you did wrong. You guys were broken up and you were still hooking up? What? Dude. Come on. That is an awful idea. Knowing what you do know about the male psyche and how that limited psyche views relationships, you do see how by giving it up from outside the relationship zone you were making a ginormous error, right? In his mind he had the perfect situation, all the sex and none of the relationship. Did you ever hear him say, “Jackpot!” after brushing his teeth?

Finally, I want to address this feeling of “unwantedness” that you’ve got going on. No woman is ever, and I mean EVER, unwanted. I know that fact often comes as little solace because you wanted to be wanted by him, not the greasy construction workers that cat call you and your mom while you’re walking to get a bagel or something. But look at this guy. He’s broken, not functioning. He is scared to death of simple honesty. He’s too stupid to figure out that repeated consensual sex equals a relationship. Tell me exactly why you want to be wanted by such a retard.

At this point you’re probably saying out loud at your computer monitor, “Well Dave, you just said that all men are like this. What kind of hope can I realistically have that I’ll find a guy who will actually be honest with me?”  At which point I will say, also out loud and at my computer monitor, “The same hope that all us guys have to find a woman who isn’t functionally insane.”

It’s a small hope, but they’re out there. The key is not settling until you find the right one. Forget about this turkey and find someone who works at Apple.

November 19, 2007

An Open Letter To Coke Heads

Filed under: Cocaine — missedmanners @ 2:09 pm

Hey friend, how are you?

Actually, forget I asked. I’m not interested in hearing you blabber on endlessly about nothing of import for a few hours while you work up a sticky drug sweat and then take a break to go hit the bathroom for a bump after saying, “Hang on, I want to keep talking about this when I get back.”

Please don’t ever talk to me while you’re high. You are too loud, too chatty and way too disgusting for me to bear.

Now, please don’t misconstrue what I’m saying here as preaching. The only thing more annoying than someone who’s high on coke is someone who’s given it up and feels the need to talk about how much better off they are now and how sorry they feel for everyone out there still using. Get over yourself, buddy.

No, I’m not going to preach to you. I’ve done the dirty deed way more times than I’d like to remember. If you want to do it, just do it away from me. If you feel the need to speak, do it away from me. If you want to continue to delude yourself as to the fashion level of your hobby, do it miles away from me.

Delusion runs high with your ilk. I’m going to say a few things right now that may trouble you, and they should, because they are facts.

Fact #1: No one is charming when they are high on coke. In fact, they are loud, boorish and far too aggressive in every action to be considered charming. That mildly racist joke that you thought absolutely killed actually bombed, horribly. That noise that you thought was laughter was just you saying, “am I right? am I right?” a little too loudly.

Fact #2: No one is sexy when they are high on coke. How this ever became a culture-wide accepted delusion is directly the fault of movie and television writers who were high on coke when they wrote the script for whatever drivel they thought was going to change the world when they wrote it (See fact #3). In fact, sex is about 75% less likely to happen when you put coke into the equation simply because for a lot of people it, errr, makes things a lot less likely to, umm… work, if ya know what I mean. Not only that but it’s hard to get someone to go down on you when that mouth is too busy flapping about the latest Kanye West album and how they identify with his “genius.”

The truth is that you look awful when you’re high. You’re probably sweating. You’re fidgeting. You have a little residue around your nose that you’re wiping away but trying not to be noticed while doing so. You’re sniffling like you’ve got a cold. How is that sexy?

Fact #3: You are NOT more creative when you’re high. You’re just high when you’re high. Do not ever sit down and work on some garbage piece of introspective finger diarrhea right after blowing a rail in your bathroom. Simply because you’re typing at 200 words per minute does not mean that you’ve hit a Yukon-class vein of mind-gold. Whatever you write while high will unequivocally be garbage. It will only seem interesting when you’re high. Believe me, I’ve done this. I’ve got twenty pages about how I’m awesome that I wrote mid binge about eight years ago to prove it. Same goes if you’re a musician. Put that guitar DOWN, for all our sakes, please.

If you want to keep doing coke, please, by all means go ahead. I’m a huge fan of free will, white powders and partying all night. But please, please just don’t talk to me when you do it, you are a complete disaster and I have absolutely NO interest in you trying to be funny or act smug.



PS: Die a slow death if you use coke as a method for getting sex.

November 15, 2007

Ask Dave! Vol. 16

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 7:51 pm

Dear Dave,

My husband passed away at the age of 47 from cancer on September 17, 2007. I am wondering do I address myself now as MRS., MS., or MISS. Please advise me so I can sign my name correctly.

Thank you,

Heart Broken in Indiana

Dear Heart Broken,

First of all let me offer my sincerest condolences. I won’t sully the memory of your husband by trying to come up with anything flowery to say, I’m sure those who know you better have already done so. There is no greater loss than that of a life partner. There are certain people that if they were at once gone from my my life I would have no clue as to how to go on. The fact that you’re even able to type and contemplate questions such as the one above already makes you a more functional human being than I know how to be. So… kudos, I think?

The answer to your question is simple, really, though it may fly in the face of some commonly held societal beliefs. Far be it for me to ever say anything against the way we as a people perceive death, but the answer is that you can call yourself whatever you want.

The honorifics, “Mr.” Mrs.” “Miss” and “Ms.” are holdovers from various times in social antiquity. Master became Mister. Mistress became Misses. Miss was coined during the 17th century, some say as a way of further ostracizing the unmarried female.

Honestly, their histories and uses are pointless. They are just words. The words for females just so happen to have a built in bit of self disclosure. If I were any kind of feminist I’d say that you ought to call yourself Heart Broken in Indiana, Esq. just to poke a little fun at the patriarchy.

Popular thought on the subject since the great bra fire of that year in the 60’s I forgot, is that all women should shirk this demeaning naming ritual and just use the Ms. title, regardless of marital status.

My advice to you? Don’t listen to advice on this topic because it’s no one’s decision but your own. There are no federal laws regarding this situation. In fact, I am positive that you can call yourself whatever you want and have it protected under the first amendment. Just look at celebrities who name their kids after moods.

The only advice you should be listening to your own. If you’re more of the old fashioned school and feel that still using the Mrs. title would bring honor to the memory of your husband then do it. If you feel that using Ms. instead will help you deal with this sad time more effectively, then do that. If you feel that calling yourself Empress and joining a live action role playing club will make you smile, then grab that scepter and silk frock and head over to Chuck’s mom’s basement.

Titles are just that, titles. Just like the title of the book often has nothing with what’s inside so does the title of the person often not match the caliber or quality of the person.

Good luck, and again, I am truly sorry for your loss.

November 14, 2007

OW, Damnit

Filed under: Dentists — missedmanners @ 5:58 pm

Good God that hurt.

Apparently at some point during my life I developed an immunity to Novocaine. Either that or I’ve fried enough neurons through recreational chemical indulgence that the stuff just simply does not work as intended. I just got back from a routine filling and despite two giant shots of the stuff, I definitely think I felt every little drill bit.

Ugh. I’m glad that’s over.

There’s just nothing fun about the dentist, not to mention that it’s got to be the world’s least sexy vocation. There’s no dental hygienist porn, and that’s how you rate the sexiness of job. No letter to Penthouse Forum started off, “I’d never believed it would have happened to me, but as I lay there incapacitated with two mini vice grips sticking out of my mouth, I felt a hand wander up my leg.”

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that the noble art of Dentistry has kept all of my chompers in my head. It’s hard to be suave when you’re lisping past summer teeth and gums.  It’s just that there’s such a negative stigma associated with the profession, who would strive for that.

I mean, you could go to the Doctor and be told you’ve got a week to live, or get a camera up your butt, or your mom could be targeted by a rogue plastic surgeon if you’re a rap artist.  And yet there are scores of television shows devoted to doctors.

Generally the worst that could happen when you go to the Dentist is that you’re subjected to mild, annoying pain that may linger for a few days. Where is the Dirk Mantooth, DDS program on CBS?

It would beat the shit out of CSI:Miami.

November 13, 2007

I’m About Five Years Late on This Topic…

Filed under: Humor,Tivo — missedmanners @ 1:45 pm

… But I’m going to talk about it anyway.

Last week my roommate and I finally entered the digital age. We got a DVR.

I definitely feel like the guy who just watched Heat, a la Jim Gaffigan’s comedy bit, and now, ten years later, wants to talk about it with all of his friends.

For a while I’d argued against the acquisition of such an item based solely on the changes it would make in my life scheduling. Life is so much easier when you can get out annoying social obligations early by saying that you don’t want to miss 30 Rock. When you’ve got DVR all of a sudden you’ve got no excuse not to attend every single little dinner, drink or what have you. “Oh just record it.”

Albeit, that’s a weak excuse, and just a few hours after installing the new box, my roommate and I stood pie-eyed before it like two toddlers with the shiniest BB Gun imaginable on Christmas morning. We plugged in all our favorite series and then sat around and waited for them to record, because God forbid we actually watch them live. That would be insulting the box and its intended purpose.

We’ve gone a bit mad, actually. When looking at the depressingly empty storage meter, my roommate decided to record all the long format movies that neither of us would ever watch, just so it we’d have something on there. The Bridge Over the River Kwai, Seven Years in Tibet, Titanic, etc.

We haven’t watched any of them.

Some days into the digital occupation I began to feel a slight panic set in. I’ve a limited devotion to a handful of prime time network series. With the fall season already in full swing, I’ve got my week outlined. Monday night, at home. Tuesday night, out. Wednesday and Thursday night, at home. Friday, out. Weekends, splayed somewhere in enraptured in whatever deviance I can afford.

Now I can do whatever I want, whenever I want and catch up on my shows at any time. Such freedom was not meant for man. Now that commercial breaks have no meaning in digital playback, when am I supposed to go to the bathroom? Get a new beer? How am I supposed to find the will to pause an episode of Scrubs that I’ve seen a billion times and just walk away and do whatever it was that I was supposed to do when I can just watch the whole thing another billion times?

I am afloat in a sea of entertainment possibilities and drowning like a cramped up fat kid swimming ten minutes after the pie eating contest.


November 12, 2007

Back! Part 2

Filed under: Humor — missedmanners @ 12:07 pm

Jesus H. Christ were the last two weeks more busy than anything ever. I’m finally done though.

What a marathon week/weekend. About three hours of sleep, total, various shenanigans,  too much work, far too little play and I just took the past weekend to recharge, couching tiger hidden lay-z boy style.

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