Never go to someone's house empty-handed

If you're looking for a cheap bottle of wine, or perhaps some candy or flowers, the easiest way to get some is to invite me over to your house. Mom (and Gram) beat it into my head that you never go to someone's house empty handed.

Don't believe my relatives? Then listen to Deepak Chopra, who, in his Seven Laws of Spiritual Success discusses this very principle. Even if you don't have disposable cash, Chopra says, you can write a simple card, telling your host how much you appreciate him/her, or pay your host a simple compliment (free!) when you walk into the house. Example: "It's so nice to see you; I really enjoy visiting with you. Thank you for inviting me over."

But never, ever go empty-handed. I'm so into this, that even when I'm told, "bring nothing," I still have to bring some wine, chocolate, or flowers. Or a compliment.

It's the right thing to do, and it's gracious. Feel free to invite me over. I may just bring you a compliment.

When did rudeness become acceptable?

I'm really pissed off at businesses and marketers who think that rudeness is "okay" or "funny."

There's an ad on TV right now for some Orwellian-like telephone that has a TV screen and internet connection built right in. (Shoot me before I ever have 1984 in my own kitchen.)

In this pathetic ad, a mom reads a recipe from her 1984-device, works hard in the kitchen to make paella for her family, then sends a mass text to tell them, "Paella tonight!" Her asshole of a son, then, video-texts her back saying, "I have no idea what puh-ella is, but I'm NEVER eating it!" (I imagine if the FCC weren't monitoring our every word and wardrobe malfunction, said asshole son would've concluded with, "How dare you make me dinner, You fucking bitch! ")

Crestfallen by her asshole son, Commercial Mom then tosses the paella and orders a pizza. Um, doormat much?

When someone makes you dinner, especially your MOM, you say "thank you" and you eat it, barring life-threatening food allergies. I'm reminded of how I was raised. My gram, ever the devout Catholic, only served fish on Fridays. I've never liked fish. When Fridays rolled around at Gram's, I'd carp (ha! pun intended) and whine, "I don't like fish."

Mom's wise response? "Then don't eat it. Go hungry."

And I did.

Thanks, mom.

Hygiene belongs in the bathroom

How come so few people know this? Hygiene -- that's your primping, cleaning, washing, etc. -- belongs in your bathroom --your bathroom -- and rarely anywhere else.

Why? Because there's bacteria and germs associated with your hair, makeup, nail clippings and eyelashes flying everywhere.

Ladies and Gentlemen -- do not brush or comb your hair on public transport, at a restaurant, or in someone else's car. Or home. Do it at home -- and then leave it. Or sneak into the bathroom. But not out in the open.

Ladies and Gentlemen -- do not clip your nails -- fingernails or toenails -- anywhere but your own home bathroom. No, not even in the gym locker room. (Someone did this the other day in my gym locker room...yecch.) Fingernails are gross. Keep them in your bathroom garbage can. This is never okay at the office.

Ladies -- do not apply makeup in public, and especially not on public transportation. It's unseemly, and gross to those around you. At the sink in a restroom is fine; but not at dinner, with friends, on the train, etc.

And never ever floss in front of other people.

Keep your hygiene at your house. Those around you thank you.

Break Up in Person

There's a terribly entertaining entry in honor of Valentine's Day on Gaper's Block. Read about horrible break ups, and weep or laugh, depending on your sensibility.

I share this with you because some of them are so amazingly rude. I don't care if you're a member of Generation Y, X, or a Boomer -- the only decent way to dump someone is in person. If you're long-distance, okay, you get a pass and are allowed to do it live over the phone.

But you gotta remember, when you have to have a difficult conversation, the only right way to do it is in-person. Dumping someone via text or via your roommate is, well, cruel, and also very rude. Disrespectful.

Remember -- there's a human being on the receiving end of the message. Let's not be a nation of cowards, people.

Need to do some dumping this valentine's day? Do it face to face, or at least call the other person. And, no, you can not do it on voicemail.

At the gym

Sigh. It's that most frustrating time of year again -- the time when all the "New Years Resolutioners" come out of the woodwork and clog up the gyms.

But I'm not so sure it's the Resolutioners I have a beef with. It's any rude person at the gym.

Do you attend a gym or health club? If so, please read below. Yes, this is for you.

Good guidelines for the gym

• Does your health club provide towel service? Yes? Please use one.
  
  
• If you are naked in the locker room and must sit down, put one of those effing towels down FIRST before placing your naked ass on the seat. Your rump-hole is filled with bacteria, and I'm sure most of us would rather not encounter yours.
  
  
• Do not enter any workout class late. Ever. Yes, real life happens, but late arrivals disrupt the class and cause a distraction. Yes, I know you really wanted to attend Yoga for Rudeasses, but walking in late -- even five minutes late-- is a massive disruption. Don't. Just walk your big ass over to a treadmill or the elliptical, and spend the next hour there. Those of us in deep meditation thank you.
  
  
• Besides, you should be arriving early for class to change your shoes, warm up, etcetera.
  
  
• Leave your fucking cell phone in a locker. Nothing's more annoying than someone yapping about his job while you're trying to get some fitness in. Not to mention: talk on your cell while exercising, and you've just killed the effectiveness of what little exercise you're getting.
  
  
• Taking yoga? Shut the fuck up. It escapes me why two people -- men and women alike -- find the need to set up for yoga, and then sit on their mats and talk until class starts. Look around at the start of a yoga class -- people are breathing, meditating, centering themselves. You're wrecking that, Mr. or Ms. Talker. Now shut up and breathe.

I fully expect to see good behavior in action at my gym from now on. If I can actually attend a class without some rude-ass entering late (and the teacher allowing it), I'll know y'all listened.

The line won't go faster just because you get up on me

To everyone who stands behind anyone in line:

Stay the eff back. Yes, go ahead and put your groceries on the conveyor belt (if you happen to be in a grocery store; doing this in a bank, at the DMV, etc., might be bad form), but your toes don't have to touch my heels.

If the person in front of you can feel you breathe, you're wayyyyy too close. Back off.

Many people are protective of their personal space. Many people just don't like you pressuring them forward. Many just don't want to feel shoved out of the grocery line.

So whenever you're in line -- wherever -- wait your turn. It will come, I promise. No minuscule person will sneak into the two feet between you and the person ahead. Just chill. And back off. I don't need you crowding me.

Thank you.

Not an Etiquette Book Among 'Em....

Today, no etiquette bitching.


Just a personal request, as the holidays are upon us: Buy books this year for gifts. They're less bulky than, say, a sweater; will travel well if you're flying for the holidays; and, as our president-elect says, it's good to "turn off the TV and read with your kids."

I urge you to, ideally, purchase books from your local independent bookseller. "Because a scented candle never changed anyone's life," as indiebound says.

But no matter how you buy books, just get out there and buy some new books.

Some ideas and resources below for you:

The New York Times' 100 Notable Books of 2008

Find your nearest independent bookseller at indiebound.org

My favorite reads:

Amy Sedaris' I Like You...Hospitality Under the Influence

David Foster Wallace's Consider the Lobster and A Supposedly Fun Thing That I'll Never Do Again

Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma

Cell phones and food

So from now until about January 2, all grocery stores will be packed. And that's the way it should be -- 'tis the season.

But please realize you are in a grocery store, not your home, not your car, and definitely not a phone booth.

Translation: shut the eff up on your cell phone. Especially you loud talkers. We don't care about your conversation, and we don't want to hear you. I traipsed through Trader Joe's yesterday while some woman stood blocking the produce aisle, yammering away (loudly) on her headset.

Same goes for other public places: restaurants, banks, movie theaters, concerts: we don't want to hear you. Go outside and talk.

Thank you.

(and Happy Thanksgiving)

It's not rude, but it is despicable...

Don't you want your kids to have the same basic rights you do? Things that you probably take for granted? Don't you want your kids, your friends, your loved ones to have a relatively stress-free life?

I lived in California for five years. As I prepared to leave my Midwestern home town for the land of the sun, co-workers bade me farewell with such clever witticisms as, "California! Land of Fruits and Nuts!"

If only.

As I walk this great country (okay, it's mostly air travel, but I am a super busy public speaker), everywhere I go, I share with my audiences, "California is pretty conservative."

The reaction: "No!"

My response, "Look at who their governor is."

Their response: "Oh. [pause] Yeah."

One of the aspects I loathed about California was its omnipresent conservatism and hyper-sensitivity -- and this was in the San Francisco Bay Area. The City itself was, of course, more liberal. But one foot outside of SF, and you couldn't sneeze without offending someone within sneeze-shot.

I once had a class full of old hags from Pacific Bell who were pissed off (and told my incompetent boss so in a three-page letter) because in the Intro to the Internet class I was teaching, I had the audacity to actually -- shocker -- show people how to use the internet to find things such as phone numbers. The bitch bags carped that I was causing them to lose their jobs. They never considered the fact that they spent more time gossiping and smoking than they did working as the cause of their future lay-offs.

Then there were the geniuses from one shipping company who got angry because another instructor merely mentioned their competitor. Not in praise, mind you. Just said the name.

Then there's my Cali-dwelling white friend married to a non-white man who thinks gays don't deserve the same rights as she and her husband.

And this, my friends, is horseshit. The fact that Prop 8 passed in CA last week is horseshit. And it's downright despicable.

About two years ago, the love of my life found himself admitted to the hospital with a life-threatening condition. I was at his side every minute; I can't imagine not being able to be by his side to help him through such an ordeal. And I can't imagine denying this basic right to our brothers, our sisters, our children, our friends, our relatives.

I'm almost, no, right now, I am ashamed to say I lived in California. (btw, I got out, thank god, before Ah-nuhld got in.)

If you don't agree with me, especially if you are straight and don't agree with me, answer me this: how would you feel if you were forbidden to marry your spouse, forbidden to have any say in his/her medical-slash-end of life decisions?

I'm lucky, and grateful, that I got to marry the love of my life.

I'm thrilled that I got to see our first non-white president in my lifetime.

I am sure we will see nationwide gay marriage in my lifetime, and, hopefully sooner rather than later, our first female president.

Mr. Obama, are you listening?

Congratulations, President-Elect Obama

You worked hard and you deserve it. Your acceptance speech was gracious, forward-looking and uplifting. It was a pleasure to vote for you and a pleasure to watch you win.

John McCain, too, deserves Kudos for his gracious, professional concession speech. McCain wasn't my pick, but I admired how professional and polite he remained, even when there were hecklers at his events. He always kept it above-board.

Cheers to you, Mr. Obama. I look forward to the next four years. Couldn't have said that 8 or 4 years ago.

Thank you.