Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas Read Online Free Page A
Author: Celia Rivenbark
comfort, sending your laptop into your muffin top and your Sprite every damn where. He careth not a whit. It is all about his needs, which at least momentarily are fulfilled. It is nappy time for Recline Monster. What to do?
First, please don’t do what the pissed-off passenger on a flight from Washington, D.C., to Ghana did recently. Perhaps he had spent months silently seething at various Recline Monsters and he finally snapped. The passenger just hit Recline Monster on the top of his empty head as hard as he could.
Unfortunately, the TSA gets super cranky when one passenger assaults another, so the whole flight had to be canceled and I’m guessing the guy who did the hitting was given major stink eye from the disgruntled passengers having to deplane.
I don’t advise slapping Recline Monster, because violence is never the answer. I do, however, advise a slow, deliberate, and steady kicking of his seatback for the duration of the flight. It’ll drive him nuts, and if he complains, just explain that Dr. Oz said on TV that if you don’t move your legs on a flight, you could develop a deadly blood clot. You can up the ante by mentioning that Dr. Oz was speaking personally, just to you, through the TV, when he said that and you can make your eyes look all googly like a certified crazy person.
I’m guessing, because I am not a “1 percenter,” to use the political parlance, that reclining seats aren’t an issue in first class, where the air smells rather like fat leather wallets and warmed butter cookies. Bitter, party of me. And speaking of the rich folk …
Question: Why did everybody get so pissy at me when I wouldn’t shut off my cell phone? I was in the middle of a very important game of Words with Friends, and what’s more, I am a Very Important Actor. Just ask my brothers, if you can remember any of their names. Hahahahaha!—Alec Baldwin
Oh, Alec. May I call you Mr. Baldwin? I used to be such a huge fan of your work. The scenes in 30 Rock with your ghastly TV mama, Elaine Stritch, kept me in, well, “stritches”!
But this stunt you pulled on that L.A.-to-N.Y. flight where you were rude to a flight attendant simply trying to do her job and then tweeted about it like you were the victim?
Don’t you think we’d all like to be playing Words with Friends on our magic phone boxes while awaiting takeoff? Do you think you’re somehow exempt from the rules of the airways? And, more to the point, what the hell are you doing flying commercial instead of by private jet? Don’t you know a Travolta or someone who could fly your curiously wide ass across the country whenever you need it? Hmmmm?
Question: I’m never quite sure which armrest is mine. I don’t want to appear rude and take the wrong armrest. Of course, I’d really like to just take both, but something tells me that’s not good etiquette. Can you help?
“Whose armrest is it, anyway?” is a great question. The answer is that they are all mine. All right, not really. The truth is, they are all Alec Baldwin’s. No, really. Here’s the rule: If you are on the aisle, you get the aisle armrest; if you are on the window, you get the right; if you are in the middle, you get both. It’s only fair because the middle is a craptastic location and everybody knows it. So, middle seater, sit down, stake your claim on both armrests, and never let go. Not even to eat your fifteen-dollar “salad.”
Question: I once heard someone say that noisy children should be safely stowed in the overhead compartment. Is that true?
Yes. Yes, it is. This is a little-known rule that is really pressed into service only after the child in question, usually a scrawny long-haired little turd named Mendelssohn or some such, has been repeatedly kicking your seat and using his outdoor voice while his clueless parents do nothing but affirm his “specialness.” He is not special. He is just another privileged little snot whose parents were way too old when they had him and
First, please don’t do what the pissed-off passenger on a flight from Washington, D.C., to Ghana did recently. Perhaps he had spent months silently seething at various Recline Monsters and he finally snapped. The passenger just hit Recline Monster on the top of his empty head as hard as he could.
Unfortunately, the TSA gets super cranky when one passenger assaults another, so the whole flight had to be canceled and I’m guessing the guy who did the hitting was given major stink eye from the disgruntled passengers having to deplane.
I don’t advise slapping Recline Monster, because violence is never the answer. I do, however, advise a slow, deliberate, and steady kicking of his seatback for the duration of the flight. It’ll drive him nuts, and if he complains, just explain that Dr. Oz said on TV that if you don’t move your legs on a flight, you could develop a deadly blood clot. You can up the ante by mentioning that Dr. Oz was speaking personally, just to you, through the TV, when he said that and you can make your eyes look all googly like a certified crazy person.
I’m guessing, because I am not a “1 percenter,” to use the political parlance, that reclining seats aren’t an issue in first class, where the air smells rather like fat leather wallets and warmed butter cookies. Bitter, party of me. And speaking of the rich folk …
Question: Why did everybody get so pissy at me when I wouldn’t shut off my cell phone? I was in the middle of a very important game of Words with Friends, and what’s more, I am a Very Important Actor. Just ask my brothers, if you can remember any of their names. Hahahahaha!—Alec Baldwin
Oh, Alec. May I call you Mr. Baldwin? I used to be such a huge fan of your work. The scenes in 30 Rock with your ghastly TV mama, Elaine Stritch, kept me in, well, “stritches”!
But this stunt you pulled on that L.A.-to-N.Y. flight where you were rude to a flight attendant simply trying to do her job and then tweeted about it like you were the victim?
Don’t you think we’d all like to be playing Words with Friends on our magic phone boxes while awaiting takeoff? Do you think you’re somehow exempt from the rules of the airways? And, more to the point, what the hell are you doing flying commercial instead of by private jet? Don’t you know a Travolta or someone who could fly your curiously wide ass across the country whenever you need it? Hmmmm?
Question: I’m never quite sure which armrest is mine. I don’t want to appear rude and take the wrong armrest. Of course, I’d really like to just take both, but something tells me that’s not good etiquette. Can you help?
“Whose armrest is it, anyway?” is a great question. The answer is that they are all mine. All right, not really. The truth is, they are all Alec Baldwin’s. No, really. Here’s the rule: If you are on the aisle, you get the aisle armrest; if you are on the window, you get the right; if you are in the middle, you get both. It’s only fair because the middle is a craptastic location and everybody knows it. So, middle seater, sit down, stake your claim on both armrests, and never let go. Not even to eat your fifteen-dollar “salad.”
Question: I once heard someone say that noisy children should be safely stowed in the overhead compartment. Is that true?
Yes. Yes, it is. This is a little-known rule that is really pressed into service only after the child in question, usually a scrawny long-haired little turd named Mendelssohn or some such, has been repeatedly kicking your seat and using his outdoor voice while his clueless parents do nothing but affirm his “specialness.” He is not special. He is just another privileged little snot whose parents were way too old when they had him and
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