Listen, I totally get it. Sometimes life gets way out of hand and you forget to respond to silly little things like invitations, right? I mean, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Of course no one will be upset if you sweep your manners under the rug just this once. It’s not like it really matters that you didn’t RSVP. The hostess (Oh! Ha! That’s me!) probably didn’t even notice.
And honestly, I can totally see how you would be confused by the bold and underlined instruction to RSVP by last Saturday so that I could have an official head count to work with. If I am being honest, I don’t like being told what to do, either, because “fuck the establishment!” Right? Fist bump, sistah! I get it.
But see, here’s the thing. Since you didn’t RSVP, I sort of have to improvise. Everyone else did RSVP, which means that I bought all of the things that I would need for 13 kids plus one extra—just in case. Except that since you’re offended that I only invited one of your four kids, logically you obnoxiously brought all four—unannounced—and now I have three short of, well, everything.
Thank God for box wine, right? Here, have a glass while we do some quick math. While all the little ones take turns swinging that bat at the piñata, let’s see if we can’t hustle our derrières to the kitchen and figure this out.
The pizza. Oh, dear. We actually don’t have enough for three more kids so let me see what I have in the refrigerator. Hmm, hold on, okay, let’s see. Oh! Problem solved! I have two yogurt tubes, a pack of pretzels, and half a tuna sandwich. Your kids can totally handle gluten and dairy, right?
The cake. Okay, well actually, it’s more like 14 cupcakes. So, your four kids are going to have to share one cupcake between them. But you’re totally cool with that right? Because, I mean, it’s not like we had any idea you were coming or anything.
The goody bags. Ohh geez. It looks like your four kids kids are going to have to figure out how to share that one glow-in-the-dark Minion. But hey, it’s never too early to figure out how a time-share works, right?! Think of this as an awesome financial-real estate problem!
Look, I’m not saying you’re a jackass at fault; it’s just that the RSVP actually serves a purpose. It isn’t meant to be a fancy French add-on to fancy-ass rounded corner paper invitations. An RSVP tells a hostess (moi) how many kids are coming over to destroy my house, eat all the cake, smear the pizza grease into the carpet, and then beat the snot out of a piñata, leaving me with enough crepe paper to vacuum for a week.
What mother doesn’t live for this shit?
So, when you ignore that goofy RSVP prompt, you are basically telling me two things: 1) you have no party etiquette, and 2) you are not coming. So please do not roll your eyes at the one cupcake your four kids must split or the half tuna sandwich your 8-year-old just fed my dog.
Next time, pick up a damn phone and RSVP.