Unexpected Guests!

Lambs, there's nothing like unexpected guests! Why, only this morning, Mother dropped by just long enough to sigh heavily and make a remark about serpent's teeth before I had RRRRamon throw her bodily help her into the RRRRolls for a nice ride home.

And so, it's no surprise to find a reader writing in to my favorite advice columnist, Dear Daphne, on just this subject! Let's read!

Dear Daphne,

I've just moved into a nice neighborhood and was unpacking some things when a man walked in the front door. He was wearing a ski mask and so I thought he had come by to recruit my husband and I for the Aspen trip I had heard that the neighbors take together. 

Imagine my shock when he shouted, "Where the money, bitch?" Daphne, I don't know how they do things here, but in our old neighborhood, these things weren't done so far in advance. It's only August, for pity sake! Besides, people normally don't start calling me "bitch" until after I join the neighborhood association. 

I told him I was of half a mind to write to you about his rudeness, when he pointed knife at me. Then I understood...he was my chef's new assistant! I asked him if he had remembered to bring the arugula. He yelled, "Lady, you be trippin'!" So, were we back on Aspen again?

"Gimme you fuckin' jewelry," he requested, and so, thinking he meant to polish it before starting his kitchen duties, I commended him on his initiative, and even gave him a twenty-five cent tip! Well, Daphne, that's when he picked me up and deposited me head first in the kitchen trash basket and started rummaging through the house. So my question is this: do you think I should have waited and let Larry, my husband, handle the gratuities as I usually do? 

Not Sure In Pennsylvania

Come back next time, Lambs, for Daphne's answer!
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