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    Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas
    Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas
    Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas
    Ebook207 pages3 hours

    Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas

    By Celia Rivenbark

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    About this ebook

    In this always sensible and mildly profane etiquette manual for the modern age Celia Rivenbark addresses real-life quandaries ranging from how to deal with braggy playground moms to wondering if you can have sex in your aunt's bed on vacation to correctly grieving the dearly departed (hint: it doesn't include tattoos or truck decals). Rude Bitches Make Me Tired will provide answers to all your mannerly questions as Celia discusses the social conundrums of our day and age, including:

      Navigating the agonies of check splitting ("Who had the gorgonzola crumbles and should we really care?")The baffling aspects of airline travel (such as "Recline Monster" and other animals)The art of the visit (always leave them wanting more . . . much more)Gym and locker etiquette (hint: no one wants to talk to you while you're buck naked)Office manners ("Loud talkers, cake hawkers, and Britney Sue's unfortunate cyst")And much more!

    Good manners have never been so wickedly funny!
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateOct 22, 2013
    ISBN9781250038418
    Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas
    Author

    Celia Rivenbark

    Celia Rivenbark is the author of the award-winning bestsellers Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank; Bless Your Heart, Tramp; Belle Weather; and You Can’t Drink All Day If You Don’t Start in the Morning. We’re Just Like You, Only Prettier won a Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance (SIBA) Book Award for nonfiction and was a finalist for the James Thurber Prize for American Humor. Born and raised in Duplin County, North Carolina, Rivenbark grew up in a small house “with a red barn out back that was populated by a couple of dozen lanky and unvaccinated cats.” She started out writing for her hometown paper. She writes a weekly, nationally syndicated humor column for the Myrtle Beach Sun News. She lives in Wilmington, North Carolina.

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    Reviews for Rude Bitches Make Me Tired

    4/5

    32 ratings7 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Laugh Out Loud Funny!"!Celia Rivenbark's new book can easily be described in one word: Hilarious! Seriously, not a page went by that I wasn't quietly smiling to myself, laughing out loud, or cackling in glee and then running in to the living room to interrupt my husband's football with "just one more, honey!" Rivenbark's writing style is instantly accessible and made to be read aloud. Her book reads more like really good stand-up than anything else. I haven't researched Rivenbark's bio, but I wouldn't be surprised to find that she also makes a living as a professional stand-up comedian. And if she doesn't, she should! Hers would be a show you wanted to take all of your girlfriends to. Honestly, I think the woman would have us all peeing in our pants by the end of the night. (Some of us earlier than others)! Rivenbark could easily be Kathy Griffin's kid sister. She's got the smart, snarky, sharp thing down to an art. She's doesn't come off as mean-spirited as Kathy sometimes does, which will be a plus for many readers. I think this is because a lot of Rivenbark's work is self-reflective and she doesn't let herself off or excuse her own rude behavior. I think "Rude Bitches Make Me Tired" would be a great summertime book club selection. Amidst all the "Seriously?" and "You Think?"s, Rivenbark actually imparts some pretty good advice on several modern day manner dramas. This book would also make an excellent present for all of your best girlfriends. I've already ordered two extra copies myself to hand out this Christmas. I also plan to order a few of her other titles, including "Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old like A Skank." When the title of a book alone makes you laugh out loud, it's a pretty sure bet that the book will be equally funny!My only advice is to take your time with the book. It was so funny, I couldn't put it down and when I got towards the end, I had to make myself slow down just so that I'd have something to look forward to later. However, don't be at all surprised if you pick it up and devour it in one sitting. Just make sure that your partner or your cell-phone is handy. This is one book you will want to share!
    • 4/5
      Celia Rivenbark is funny, funny, funny. This book made me laugh out loud, like I was talking to my best friend. This is a series of essays about "etiquette" and not your Emily Post style of etiquette either. Great book to cheer me up this weekend.
    • 5/5
      First I read Say This Not That and then immediately after I read this. Loved them both. I want to say the right thing but I enjoy listening to someone say what's right and not worry about how they say it. It's the same reason I watch Judge Judy. Both godmothers are getting this for Mother's Day!
    • 4/5
      Celia Rivenbark writes with a felt-tipped pickaxe handle. She is not delicate. But she is very funny. Very funny. She crafts her paragraphs for maximum laughs. She comes back to cash in on a line pages later. No shot is wasted. She clearly knows what she’s doing. This is a well thought through effort in self awareness and self mockery. It’s a pleasure to just to look at. To read it is its own reward.It would be better without quite so much Kardashian. Five times in 167 pages. It would also be better if she didn’t use quite so many four letter words. It’s not only too easy, it minimizes their impact. Very quickly, it just becomes trash talk, and Rivenbark is far more skilled than that. Here are three sterling examples: -On raising her teenage daughter: If you don’t put that phone in the other room during dinner, I will crush it, along with your spirit, beneath the wheels of the car you will never drive. Sweetheart.-In discussing funerals, there’s this wisdom about baking a ham: This is my go-to ham recipe, and it came from Southern Living magazine, which, along with the fabulous Garden & Gun, should be on your coffee table at all times, praise Jesus. -I am a true American. Which means I have zero interest in learning about another culture, unless it is in the safe confines of EPCOT or the International House of Pancakes. This is so far from anything like etiquette, you wouldn’t know it was the same country that produced so many neurotic, rigid, stifling, punishing books on manners in the last century. Society has changed so much, the old rules are way beyond laughable. Rude Bitches accelerates the process, mocking today’s insufficiencies, without imposing idiotic new rules.However. This new society is so slovenly, so graceless, so self-centered and narcissistic, it is pathetic. Basically, anything goes, and that’s not the most pleasant state of being. Thankfully, there is someone who can step right into the middle of it to make fun of it all, while claiming all along to be above the fray. My hat is tipped to Celia Rivenbark. Otherwise, I’d have to step out the window, bless her heart. Just sayin’.
    • 3/5
      Rude Bitches Make Me Tired is columnist and author Celia Rivenbark’s seventh book. Though I have never actually heard of her, I couldn’t resist the the title as I was desperate for something light and silly to read after a busy, chaotic week.Rude Bitches Make Me Tired purports to be an etiquette guide for modern dilemmas discussing appropriate, and inappropriate, behaviour in regards to dealing with, amongst other things, funerals, dance mom’s, Facebook, PDA’s (public displays of affection) and dinner parties. Mixing personal anecdotes with snarky advice, humour tends to take precedence over wisdom. There are many lines that will make you laugh out loud, several that will make you cringe and a few that will have you shaking your head in disbelief at the decline of polite society. Personally though I’m with Rivenbark on thinking it would be ‘as funny as hell’ to slam a cart into the chatty b*tches blocking the grocery store aisle knocking them sprawling like bowling pins, and that anyone who does not respond to a RSVP is an inconsiderate loser, and worse.If you are sensitive to profanity then this is not the books for you, but if you need a laugh, and are curious if it is appropriate to email your condolences to a bereaved family, then Ride Bitches Make Me Tired is a quick, amusing read.
    • 4/5
      My favorite way to read a Celia book is on audio her books are kind of like a stand up routine it needs a certain cadence the correct emphasis on the correct words which I find hard to do when reading a book, this one isn’t available on audio , I think for this reason I didn't enjoy this book as much as I should have. It was a fun book though it is a look at manners and the thing I love about Celia is she says the stuff out loud we all think in our heads.If you enjoy a snarky humor, Celia is for you this book takes an unadulterated look at moments in life when you are overcome with the idiocy of humanity, but if you are like me you don't say anything out loud but Celia does she puts it all out there front and center.I loved the chapter on bill splitting how many times have you seen this or been a part of it; just ask for separate checks for gods sake!The recline monster reminded so much of a recent trip I took with my mother she let the guy in front of her have it, she kicked at his seat like a toddler the entire way it was hilarious!There were some very funny parts of this book and some not as funny as previous books, but I truly love Celia and wish that her books were on audio!3 ½ Stars
    • 4/5
      Great title, hilarious book. The author puts into writing what many of us think, and occasionally are guilty of. The work even includes some helpful advice. An easy and quick read that will make you laugh out loud (as long as you don't mind the sporadic profanity). If the title doesn't offend you, the rest of the book probably won't. Net Galley Feedback

      1 person found this helpful

    Book preview

    Rude Bitches Make Me Tired - Celia Rivenbark

    chapter 1

    Check-Splitting: Who Had the Gorgonzola Crumbles, and Should We Really Care?

    My friend Gray and I have often chuckled at the memory of how our mothers and grandmothers would agonize over splitting the check following the conclusion of a ladies’ lunch on the town. Finally, at some point, one of the ladies would say to one member of the group, Since you drove, we’ll pay the tip.

    Gray and I have been friends for three decades, ever since we met on the job at a daily newspaper where she was a photographer and I wrote feature stories about mules being born and the like. It’s amazing that we were able to get jobs even though we were clearly very young children thirty years ago. Practically embryos. Anywho, it goes without saying that we have eaten many, many meals together in all kinds of restaurants and with all kinds of people over the years.

    Because this is such a treasured bond between us, as soon as the check comes, one of us will chuckle and say to the other: Since you drove…

    Maybe you have to be there.

    The point is, we know that dividing the check at the restaurant can bring out all sorts of unintentionally rude behavior. At the heart of this sort of accidental etiquette breach is that it is ever so tacky to ever discuss money in public. It just is.

    And while offering to pay the tip because gas was purchased by one of the members of the party is, on the face of it, a nice gesture, it only serves to muddy the waters.

    How far must we carry this? As I write this, gas is about $3.44 a gallon in my hometown. If I take two friends to lunch downtown on our lovely riverfront, I’ve used no more than $1.10 in gas to pick them up.

    This is less than the cost of a glass of sweet tea these days, so really, must we make it an issue? Should I point out that, because I drove, the rest of the lunch party owes me about one-fourth of the Caribbean Fudge Pie that I am, too, ordering even though my ass is spilling over either side of my chair.

    No.

    But still, in some quarters, you will hear all sorts of reasons why someone should pay a smaller percentage (or a higher one!) of the check when it arrives.

    This is something that makes the server crazy. Hasn’t she already been sufficiently inconvenienced by your insistence that the check be split six ways and that approximately one and a half of you are going in together to pay for the seventh woman’s bill because it’s her birthday?

    Where are my smelling salts?

    Question: We go out to dinner about once a month on a Saturday night with two couples who live in our cul-de-sac. We really like everything about these couples except for the fact that they drink very expensive wines with dinner and my husband and I are teetotalers. When the bill arrives, you guessed it, they always split it three ways even though we just ordered chicken cutlets and water!

    Okay, you guessed it: I don’t need my smelling salts anymore; I need a very dry Grey Goose martini as big as my head. Ahh. There. Much better. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You and your lushy fun friends sticking you with the wine bill …

    First of all, let the record show that your couple-friends are assholes. Just because you share a driveway with someone doesn’t mean that they should be your dinner companions. And, not to put too fine a point on this, but you and your husband sound like you’d be happier with your own kind. I mean, who the hell goes out to eat and orders a chicken cutlet and water on a Sadday night? I mean besides Garrison Keillor. For Christ’s sake, it’s Saturday night. Live a little—get the osso bucco. Look it up.

    I’m sorry. I don’t for an instant mean to imply that just because you don’t drink, you’re no fun. I just want to come right out and say it: You’re No Fun.

    Assuming that you really do want to continue this pitiful dinner charade for your own weird reasons (swapping, perhaps?) I will answer your question.

    You’re going to have to speak up. Yes! Crazy and radical, I know! You’re going to actually form the sentence in your empty noggin, feel the words in your mouth, and then hear them hang on the air.

    Here’s what you say:

    Roscoe and I didn’t have wine, so y’all can split that and leave us out of it.

    Man, oh, man, how I’d love to be a fly on the wall when that happens. Sorry. I was assuming this was a Denny’s, but then I remembered the fine wine thing.

    Their jaws will drop and they’ll be shocked that, after many months of sticking you with a third of the fancy wine you didn’t drink, the metaphorical scales have fallen from your eyes. Crappidy-doo-dah. Game over.

    You see, they’ve been wondering what is wrong with you for all this time anyway. Are you so desperate for friends that you have to buy them? Because that’s what you’re doing every time you meekly fork over your credit card for your third of the bill. We’re done here.

    Almost …

    Is there anything more agonizing than hearing a humiliating recitation of everything you’ve eaten by the number-crunching weirdo in your party?

    Madge, you had the arugula-beet salad, but you added on the gorgonzola crumbles for a dollar seventy-five, so … your share comes to…

    It is just such a terrible end to what could have been a lovely lunch or dinner. To hear your every lamb lollipop recounted (two at $11.95 each…) is simply horrifying.

    The rule is simple: separate checks if appropriate (that means a party of six or fewer) and, for larger groups, a commitment to accepting that the bill should be split evenly.

    There’s often an outlier, of course. There’s the pale friend who must have everything gluten-free or she will double over and collapse in a tower of her own shit mid-meal. This is always such a downer for the rest of the table. Maybe you could ask her to sit elsewhere? Like Indiana?

    While we’re still in the restaurant, so to speak, let’s take a moment to remind one another that the waiter is there to do a job, not to hear about your gastric bypass, lactose intolerance, gastroesophageal reflux, homoerotica fantasies, and the like.

    He or she also doesn’t need to hear that if he accidentally gives you caffeinated coffee, your heart will fly out of your chest and sit on the table, thumping away, while all you and your lunch companions can do is watch until it finally, mercifully, stops.

    Here’s a tip: They don’t care about your coffee preference. They asked you only because you expected it. The truth is, you’ll get decaf if it’s convenient, and if it’s not, well, that’s a mighty fine-looking aorta you got there.

    Remember that it’s important to tip generously, especially if you ever plan to return. Servers remember the cheap creep that ran ’em ragged and left a cool ten-spot for a hundred-dollar meal. You know who you are. For the love of Bobby Flay, tip for good service, tip for lousy service, just tip. Some of y’all can be pretty demanding.

    Example: We need more bread. And when you get back, I’m going to think up a few other things we need, but I’m only going to list them one at a time so you have to make a bunch of trips.

    Just remember: These servers can do awful things to your food right before it comes out. Awful things.

    That’s Not a Salad Fork, You Stupid Bitch

    A lot of people get confused when they’re in a nice restaurant and there are, like, a million forks surrounding their plates.

    There’s no reason to fret. Generally speaking, silver is placed in the order of its use, so you pick up the piece on the outside first. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?

    When you’ve finished eating (or, as we say in the South, had a sufficiency), avoid announcing this by saying, loudly, Damn, I’m stuffed! or worse, I’m chewin’ high. There’s no need to announce the state of your stomach. No one is interested, and the notion that you need to give alerts—as though, if you lifted your shirt, a fuel gauge just like your car has would be revealed with a wand wavering between E and F—is truly off-putting. Along these lines, never, ever burp and then say "Yay! Room for

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