Nothing makes me want to curl up and die faster than an invite to a group dinner. From start to finish it’s an intensive game of twenty questions. Where should we go to eat? Do they have vegetarian options? Can you be there by 7 or not? Did you seriously invite her? Can I get the barbecue chicken salad without the dressing, chicken, cheese, lettuce, or bowl?

The night always starts off on a bad note because no one can ever agree on a restaurant. The person who always wants sushi suddenly claims they’re craving Papa Johns and the person who always orders the side salad at every restaurant is claiming they’re craving chicken-fried-lard. And once everyone finally settles on a Mexican place, my roommate claims that the water there is too spicy.

And then I show up at the restaurant and somehow get stuck sitting at the end next to the one person I can’t stand. So now I’m spending the entire meal having forced conversation about the weather and frozen yogurt. I try a few times to get in on the convo at the other end of the table. They’re laughing, they’re crying, they’re pricking their fingers and becoming blood sisters. But my  biggest contribution to their conversation is “What? I can’t hear what you’re saying down there. A pact? I want to be in on this pregnancy pact.” Read More »

[I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the epitome of prim and proper- heck, who really is nowadays? But looking around at the misguided youths of today *ahem drinking buddies*, I’m starting to think that Miss Manners might have been onto something.

While you may never need to know how to greet a duke or how to tell which fork is REALLY the oyster fork, knowing how to deal with people whom owe you money, how much to tip, and how to address the ever annoying licorice-in-teeth conundrum without being rude might actually come in handy in the real world. I'm not trying to be your mother - oh goodness, no - I'm just here to help you out of those little etiquette dilemmas.

So here goes: a quick lesson in etiquette. The sh*t you might actually need to know.]

Last weekend I went out to lunch with a male friend. The food was excellent and there wasn’t a dull moment in the conversation, however, when the check arrived (which the waiter was very careful to put in the center of the table, I might add), everything stopped. In the same instant, we lunged for the flimsy sheet of carbon copy, managing only to knock it off of the table for a nearby patron to pick up and hand to him (sexist). My friend proudly held the tab above his head, clearly the victor. He paid and I was stuck with the tip.

The incident got me thinking – when wining and dining, who pays?

It’s an age old question and with each decade comes a new answer. There was a time when the man ALWAYS paid (lest he be called a chauvinist cheapskate) and then a time when the woman physically wrestled the tab from the man (lest he get the upper hand). Nowadays, though, men and women are on a pretty equal playing field.

So, who pays?

Ideally, the person who does the asking should pay. Read More »