Rachel Aboukhair - The Grumpy Girls Guide to Good Manners

THE GRUMPY GIRLS GUIDE
TO GOOD MANNERS

by Rachel Aboukhair

Published by New Chapter Publisher

ISBN 978-0-9827918-4-4

Copyright 2011 by Rachel Aboukhair

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher.

New Chapter Publisher
1765 Ringling Blvd.
Suite 300
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www.newchapterpublisher.com

The Grumpy Girls Guide to Good Manners
is distributed by Midpoint Trade Books

Printed in the United States of America

Cover design and layout by Shaw Creative
www.shawcreativegroup.com

TO MOM

I can be extremely unpleasant. I can be like those pictures of Beethoven with the crazy hair and the bushy eyebrows, scowling because Im deaf or something.

I got this picture off the Internet for you to have as a reference point. That, in a nutshell, is my personality (minus the musical genius part). If Im hearing-impairedas my mom claims when I dont listen to herits probably because I played my iPod too loud for too long. But I have conquered the crazy hair bit with the help of a powerful flat iron.

I think Im grouchy because Im tall. My theory is that because tall girls are early bloomers, they go through a long, disturbingly awkward stage, which makes them grumpy in their teenage years. Also, they can get away with being grumpy (to a certain extent) because they tower over others and nobody wants to mess with them.

The best thing tall girls have going for them is they can wait for a modeling scout to spot them in the mall and sign them to a contract that will rocket them into supermodel stardom. That hasnt happened for me yet, but I wait ever so hopefully. The brilliancy of my plan lies in the fact that when I do become a famous supermodel, I can still continue to be an obnoxious twit-face (as it seems some supermodels are), and yet, at the same time, get paid an exorbitant amount of money to fly around the world, be dangerously thin, spark controversies, and at some point marry a famous athlete or movie star.

Anyway, while Im waiting to be discovered, I spend most of my time standing awkwardly on the sidelines, mocking passers-by in my mind, or mocking them to their faces, which drives them away and I end up alone. The few friends I do have I never want to talk to, unless, of course, Im around the people I actually dont like, in which case I do talk to my friends, so I can avoid the people I dont like. Got it? Its a very well-thought-out system!

For some reason my mom didnt consider this such an enlightened attitudeshe accuses me of having social ineptitude (as if it were some kind of disease)and decided I had to be reformed.

And where do parents send their rebellious children for improvement? Boarding school! Yes, but thats not where she sent me. I actually would have preferred that. Instead, she decided to ship me off to

cue the lightning flash

Thats right. A week-long camp on etiquette in Nowheresville, Texas. You can imagine my horror.

Somehow I survived that ill-fated week, and here I am writing about it to share my misery with you. That Im writing a satire goes without saying. My favorite satire to date is Candide by Voltaire (who, in my opinion, was too grouchy to be buried in the crypts at the Panthon in Paris in the company of other distinguished writers and famous scientists. The crypts, by the way, are quite lovely.) I wonder if you have to be French to be buried in the Panthon. I can be French. Le singe est dans larbre. Cest un vrai cirque ici aujourdhui.

But I digress.

I dont really speak French, but even if I did, it wasnt going to get me out of the cruel and unusual punishment awaiting me. My mom was sending me to this manners boot camp in the middle of the desert for my own good, and so to this place grumpily I went.

The beginning is always a good place to start, but Im not going to do that since that would be in 1994 (when I was born). Instead, I will commence my tale June of 2009, the 15th year of my glorious existence, when my mother called me into her room.

Mom:Rachel! Come here, I want to talk to you for a sec.

Me:Am I in trouble?

Mom:Should you be?

Me:YeessnoI dont know!

Mom:You know that etiquette camp I was telling you about?

Me:Yes???

In that millisecond it crossed my mind what she was about to say and, horrified, I froze in place.

Mom: Youre going in two weeks.

Let me pause for a moment to explain. I know youre wondering what in the world is etiquette camp. If youre not, then you most likely have been to one, and I salute you. We veterans need to stick together. My mom heard about this place where you get lessons in proper manners and social behavior from a local etiquette teacher who had actually been to my house before to instruct me. Yes, thats right: an etiquette teacher who makes house calls. I guess my mom felt that the private lessons didnt take and figured a week-long immersion elsewhere was called for. So, essentially, she was punishing me with the two things I hate most in the world: proper conduct and people.

I screamed and yelled and gnashed my teeth (I didnt reallywhat is gnashing of teeth, anyway?). But I did cry, beg and barter. Moreover, I pouted, threatened, groveled and whimperedall to no avail.

So, I tracked down my dad, who is a softie, to enlist his aid. He used to deliver babies for a living (he was an obstetrician, not a stork, in case you were confused) and you cant have that job unless youre all mushy and sweet on the inside. Although he usually defers to my mom in matters of raising the children, I was able to convince him to plead my case.

He tried but Mom was having none of it. She insisted that I was only seeing the negative side of things and that I might actually enjoy it if I changed my attitude. Actually, enlisting Dad in my cause just made her mad, because I was not supposed to try to circumvent her rules. So she sent me to my room to contemplate my treacherous behavior. While I was contemplating (sure), I secretly got on the Internet to investigate this etiquette camp.