Frolicking bisexual wallabies.
I am not having a bad trip. Bill set up a stats-gathering information on this thing (you didn’t think that I could figure out how to do it, did you?) and I can now see how many people actually read this blather. Even more importantly, to me at least, I can also see what they were googling to have gotten here in the first place. So, I’m going to periodically throw in statements in the wallaby vein to see just how many truly perverted people there are out there.
Today Miss Manners–who is right up there with Clara Bow and Wotan in my personal Pantheon–came back at a young lady who was mystified that she hadn’t been on the receiving end of a baby shower. Showers, I’m afraid, are a lovely idea that has gone hideously wrong.
One of the ancient magazines that I occasionally peruse in order to get the latest decorating schemes for 1917 suggested some nice things one might do for a bridal shower. Baby showers, a friend and I have determined, didn’t really come into vogue until the ‘50s, and they’ve stuck around like Poe’s Raven wearing a stork outfit. The magazine hinted at little party favors like paper roses, and presents directly related to the wedding day. Evidently, you weren’t expected to need household stuff, your trousseau having been already established. Neither was anything supposed to be too elaborate–it was just a pleasant afternoon for the bride’s friends to congratulate her.
Even more importantly, it was supposed to be a surprise. One friend would send a note to the bride-to-be asking her to lunch, and when she got there she’d find her friends lying in wait behind the portieres. (Unless it were summertime in which case the portieres would be decently stored in mothballs, and people would have to hide behind potted plants.)
Every time I hear of an impending bridal shower–which are now co-ed so that confused men who don’t know what to do with blenders and are embarrassed by ladies’ underthings can be drafted into the act–it seems ghastly. Brides now inform their friends when and where they want the shower; they also let it be known what gifts they want. Actually, I never even really approved of registering, but it’s more useful than ever. Since more and more people are marrying later, it’s likely that they’ll have established two separate households, and the last thing anyone wants to do when they come back from the honeymoon is to figure out what to do with three different toasters and six fried-egg servers. Still, bridal registry is just a nice way for the couple to let people know what they need, for those who aren’t quite sure what they’d like to give. That’s a far cry from telling people what kind of presents you want, or in the case of Miss Manners’ correspondent, fuming because your friends haven’t thrown a shower for you.
Showers are like any party; they are an honor to a friend, but not an inalienable right. I’m sure that there are still plenty of people that don’t have a shower at all, wedding, spawn or otherwise. If your friends are nice enough to throw one for you, the real gift should be the realization that you have such kind friends. Demanding anything else will wear away the patina of that more important gift.
If anyone out there was expecting something rude involving wallabies, sorry. That was a come-on to you pervs. I’m sure there’s a bookstore in Amsterdam that can help you out. Just please don’t tell me about it.
I am not having a bad trip. Bill set up a stats-gathering information on this thing (you didn’t think that I could figure out how to do it, did you?) and I can now see how many people actually read this blather. Even more importantly, to me at least, I can also see what they were googling to have gotten here in the first place. So, I’m going to periodically throw in statements in the wallaby vein to see just how many truly perverted people there are out there.
Today Miss Manners–who is right up there with Clara Bow and Wotan in my personal Pantheon–came back at a young lady who was mystified that she hadn’t been on the receiving end of a baby shower. Showers, I’m afraid, are a lovely idea that has gone hideously wrong.
One of the ancient magazines that I occasionally peruse in order to get the latest decorating schemes for 1917 suggested some nice things one might do for a bridal shower. Baby showers, a friend and I have determined, didn’t really come into vogue until the ‘50s, and they’ve stuck around like Poe’s Raven wearing a stork outfit. The magazine hinted at little party favors like paper roses, and presents directly related to the wedding day. Evidently, you weren’t expected to need household stuff, your trousseau having been already established. Neither was anything supposed to be too elaborate–it was just a pleasant afternoon for the bride’s friends to congratulate her.
Even more importantly, it was supposed to be a surprise. One friend would send a note to the bride-to-be asking her to lunch, and when she got there she’d find her friends lying in wait behind the portieres. (Unless it were summertime in which case the portieres would be decently stored in mothballs, and people would have to hide behind potted plants.)
Every time I hear of an impending bridal shower–which are now co-ed so that confused men who don’t know what to do with blenders and are embarrassed by ladies’ underthings can be drafted into the act–it seems ghastly. Brides now inform their friends when and where they want the shower; they also let it be known what gifts they want. Actually, I never even really approved of registering, but it’s more useful than ever. Since more and more people are marrying later, it’s likely that they’ll have established two separate households, and the last thing anyone wants to do when they come back from the honeymoon is to figure out what to do with three different toasters and six fried-egg servers. Still, bridal registry is just a nice way for the couple to let people know what they need, for those who aren’t quite sure what they’d like to give. That’s a far cry from telling people what kind of presents you want, or in the case of Miss Manners’ correspondent, fuming because your friends haven’t thrown a shower for you.
Showers are like any party; they are an honor to a friend, but not an inalienable right. I’m sure that there are still plenty of people that don’t have a shower at all, wedding, spawn or otherwise. If your friends are nice enough to throw one for you, the real gift should be the realization that you have such kind friends. Demanding anything else will wear away the patina of that more important gift.
If anyone out there was expecting something rude involving wallabies, sorry. That was a come-on to you pervs. I’m sure there’s a bookstore in Amsterdam that can help you out. Just please don’t tell me about it.
posted by Daniel | 12:07 PM
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