Good Hostessing

Well, I know that the last entry wasn't very nice. But it's so nice to be an anonymous bitch. Again. I don't really know why blogging is better than a diary, but there's this feeling of having really SAID something, rather than have written it. I just hope that my internet connection stays solid. But Beno is obsessive about his email, so it should be good while he's here at least.

I'm not heartless; I always feel bad, too, a little anyway. I mean, I know he's her husband, but she has spent so much of her life just...well, there are no words for it. Perfect, but in an annoying, generous, patient way, like she's just waiting for you to be perfect too. In all my life I've never heard anyone point out one character flaw in Glennis, which makes it worse because that means I'm the only one who gets plain sick of her. And I know she gets sick of me too, but God forbid she ever admit it. She doesn't even get mad, really, she just goes white and leaves the table and spends the next few days looking at you mournfully disapproving kind of way. I really can't bear it when I think about.

I mean, we did the same shit growing up, the usual phases of promiscuity and drug abuse and music-related rebellions and runaway attempts and all that nonsense. We were both half-arsedly educated, overly psychoanalyzed, easily distracted, jaded elitist brats, just like all our friends were. But some how she manages to keep this aura of respectability, of always having her shit together. Big surprise who she gets it from, of course.

I was reading a Vogue article about hostess mistakes that reminded me of this trick that Mother used to play. When we would invite people to the house, she would always tell people the wrong amount of time it took to get out here. Sometimes she would say more, and sometimes less. She would even reference traffic reports. So they would always arrive ridiculously late or early, and be so apologetic for being late or for taking us unawares. And Mother would be so gracious and regal in accepting their apology, much to their exhausted relief. But after a bit, like when she showed them to their rooms, they would notice that while she was completely polite, she was the tiniest, tinest bit cooler than she needed to be, and they would be utterly in her power. She did this every single time, it was like her little power play, a little bit of manipulation she enjoyed for no bloody reason other than she wanted to be bitchy. I don't think the guest ever catch on.

But Glennis and I did. And I think we learned the same lesson. She just hides it better than me, that's all.