The Walk of Shame...

Oh yes, we're going there.

Don't judge. You've probably been there, too. Maybe you didn't do all that the name implies, but who here, dear readers, has not pulled back on their cocktail dress and heels (or their suit and wrinkled shirt) and made it back through their city, campus, neighborhood, or even just apartment building without the aid of a shower or comb (or a memory of the night before)? Sometimes the prior night's outfit is forgone all together and replaced with an over sized pair of gym shorts and baggy t-shirt (which go great with black pumps).

It's a fact of life. And while perhaps it's an act inherently characterized as tacky (because really, no one's mother ever told them it was okay to do THAT) there are ways to class it up.

Do:

• Steal some mouthwash, clean up the smudged make up, wet your hair and borrow a comb.
• Leave a note if you get up first - preferably with a way to reach you. You don't have to see them again if you don't want to, but it's the classy thing to do.
  
• Wear shoes when you leave - even if it's heels with aforementioned gym shorts. We're not Britney.

Do not:

• Discuss your current situation with people on the subway, the cab driver, or people at the coffee shop that you pop in - everyone knows what you're doing, no need to explain. Also refrain from discussing the night on your cell phone in all the above places - no one wants to know.
• Guess the person's name. Snoop or just say "hun."
• Go to class, work, or brunch in what you have been wearing all night.

We may not be proud of it, but let's do it with some remaining shreds of dignity, shall we?

Some of my (many) thoughts on wine...

Jesus drank wine. And if you've ever attended any sort of Jewish celebration, you know the wine flows. Come to think of it, most everyone can agree that wine is a good thing. Who am I to disagree? And while usually it is very easy to appear classy (perhaps even feign class) by sipping from a wine glass at dinner, happy hour, or any other time, even wine can be tacky.

Some things to avoid:

• If you're bringing wine as a host/hostess gift, bring red wine. Bringing white wine means you either have to chill it (and then your suggestion is, "Here, we should drink this. I have better taste than you) or you don't chill it (and then you're saying, "We can't drink this, so you'll be stuck with it. And I don't even like it that much"). There are exceptions of course - if you happen to know the tastes of the host, if you were told to bring white, etc. But generally, play it safe.
• White Zinfandel. This isn't even a real wine - it's sweetened white trash alcohol. Rose is fine, even trendy. White Zin is not.
• Sending back wine at a restaurant. Exception of course if the wine is actually bad, but other than that - really, who are you?
• Franzia. Enough said. Though certain authors of this blog may (or may not) have played Franzia dodgeball. Judge away...
  

Exit, stage left (gracefully...)

Losing is not fun. Sometimes you lose when you really deserved to win, and sometimes you lose even when you really wanted something. At this time, take note from Sen. John McCain and show some grace and class as you congratulate the winner and thank your friends.

Do not go on an internet rampage.

I personally don't like to air dirty laundry, but since our readership is so low (quality, not quantity is what counts), I figured this is safe. Plus, TP and I are so uninvolved we didn't KNOW there was drama until after it happened! But we've since been informed and must comment.

A recent student government election went all underdog and came down to four votes. Now, whether out of apathy or a belief that the heir-apparent would win, most eligible members of the student body didn't vote. This sparked a rampage from the heir-apparent including a HUGE facebook post (including the line, " Unfortunately for the student body, I am certain that next year will speak louder than anyone could right now, so hopefully we can leave it at that") followed by a "de-friending" of many of his former constituents.

John McCain: classy (at least for a while)
Law Students: still have a lot to learn...

Dear Madonna,

You really are a minx. First you don't answer my letters. Then you persist in leaving your leg in the air at Louis Vuitton. Somehow you even made one of the models wear your skirt-that-used-to-be-a-fraggle. But I digress.

You see, I write for a different reason. I am sorry for you that you can't have the child you want. I know you must feel bad--but doesn't it disconcert you slightly that the child actually has a family in the town from which you would like her removed? Does it disconcert you slightly that Malawi seems to rather concerned about rich white ladies with britishy accents absconding with their youth?

I'm not saying that you are being tacky this time, but as ABT recently mentioned, I'm appreciating the awkwardness of this situation and how it would not have developed had you called Angelina and asked her how she so seamlessly obtains children from foreign lands.

Please put your leg down now.

Sincerely,

TP

What did I tell you about hats?

Easter in the South is quite an affair (isn't everything?) which usually involves massive church services, sisters in matching dresses, gloves, bow ties, and of course hats. It's tacky-meets-classy central.

As I got dressed for church myself this past Sunday, I was actually sad that I wasn't back home. Instead, I expected that even though I am Episcopalian (and thus services are fairly traditional) the service would have none of the fanfare in the congregation that I've come to love on fine spring Sunday mornings.

I was SO disappointed I left my camera at home. (But really, had I brought it - I could have blogged on myself)

There, two rows back, on the other side of the aisle was the greatest hat in the history of Easter Sundays. An otherwise simple hat, really, but all around the brim were bright purple daises and then (the piece de resistance if you will) on top was a bird's nest with BRIGHT blue and purple Easter eggs.

Ma'am, you are no Aretha Franklin. Not quite tacky-meets-classy, just tacky.

On a side note, I felt slightly bad for judging while actually IN church. My friend sitting next to me, witnessing my sighting and then subsequent guilt, reminded me that we were APPRECIATING, not judging...

Wedding Week! (Part III: Freeloaders!)

Have you seen Wedding Crashers? If not, add that to your NetFlix list right now! We all know that there are those people who love to go to weddings - you get to dress up, dance around, eat what is usually an amazing meal, and all you have to do is tell the couple how happy and beautiful the world is with their love in it. Oh, and the booze is usually free flowing.

However, crashing weddings for the good times is tacky. What's even worse is asking the bride and groom to essentially provide a party for your friends.

At the recently attended wedding, the combined five children of the happy couple are all twenty-somethings. Two each invited a date and a family friend. Classy - we're sharing in the day, celebrating, dancing... and genuinely want to be part of the day. The other three... well, let's just say they had a combined TWENTY something guests of their own. This means that the happy couple shelved out AT MINIMUM nearly fifteen hundred dollars for their kids' friends to party.

Asking your parents to throw you a party on their big day? Tacky.

Wedding Week! (Part II: Guest Attire)

What is this? I think I can kinda see where her train of thought was going... "I know, I'll wear a lovely floral print to this spring wedding. And the skirt just isn't enough - we'll do the top, too."

But the end effect? There were more flowers on this dress than there were in the whole wedding. Just like you don't wear a jean jacket with the same tone jeans (ew, denim sandwich) you should also not wear the same print blouse with the same print skirt. It's tacky, you look like you've been attacked by fabric, and people like me point out how awkward you look.

Wedding Week! (Part I: Tats are nasty)

Fine, we've been slacking - but now we're back with a vengeance to cover all things tacky! And I now have excellent fodder for a week's worth of writing as I attended the pinnacle of classy meets tacky this last weekend: a wedding.

No names will be provided, but there will be a picture or two.

Let's start out with a clearly obvious element of tack: tattoos. Sure, they seem like a good idea at the time - you're young, you're wild, you're free - but ladies, one day you will be asked to put on an elegant bridesmaid dress, and no one wants to see that nasty tat you thought was awesome when you were 19. Exhibit A: angle wings? Seriously?



The best part about this photo is that all the bridesmaids were told to wear the accompanying shawl SPECIFICALLY to cover the nasty tat in the church, and here we see it - full on exposure.

Tacky. Tacky. Tacky.