When sociobiologists start shitting in their backyards with dinner guests in the vicinity, maybe their arguments about innateness over culture will start seeming more persuasive.
Cold soup is a very tricky thing and it is a rare hostess who can carry it off. More often than not the dinner guest is left with the impression that had he only come a little earlier he could have gotten it while it was still hot.
A dinner invitation, once accepted, is a sacred obligation. If you die before the dinner takes place, your executor must attend.
I mean, I can cook, but I'd get very nervous having my food being judged by dinner guests.
I can get a better grasp of what is going on in the world from one good Washington dinner party than from all the background information NBC piles on my desk.
Even today, well-brought-up English girls are taught by their mothers to boil all veggies for at least a month and a half, just in case one of the dinner guests turns up without his teeth.
The irrational may be attractive in the abstract, but not in cab drives, dinner guests, or elderly relatives.
