If it was a phrase that had been legitimized by official linguistic and vocabulary publications, lap napkining would be described as “the act of laying a napkin on one’s lap due to societal and cultural pressures seemingly out of date, yet continually reinforced throughout dinners everywhere.” And while it might be long-winded, it would be quite an astute description of just how confining and idiotic the act of lap napkining has become in our society. And while such opinions might be rebellious…
…today I’m going to embrace such thoughts with open arms.
Some people take a picture of themselves every day for a year and turn that into a YouTube video for all to see. Others track their checking account balances while others pay attention to weather patterns, weight gain and sunrise/sunsets. But me? I have spent numerous years tracking my usage (or lack thereof) of the lap napkin in dinner situations.
And I’m here to tell you that the necessity value of lap napkining is pretty much a moot point.
In over 3,488 dinner situations, I placed a lap napkin on my lap over 50% of the times (or 1,259 times). Dinners consisted of everything from spaghetti, pizza, red clam chowder, ice cream sundaes and bao. Out of the 1,259 times I used a napkin — food particles that fell or splattered only ended up on the napkin a mere 5 times. Out of the times I didn’t use a napkin, pants and/or dress shirts were soiled with errant food splatters…only 3.
Now are you starting to get my gist?
Lap napkining is a form of peer-pressure cultural slavery, in a nutshell. If you sit down at a dinner with friends and see everyone lap napkining away — what do you do? Well, you either try to disregard the pressure you’re feeling to start your own lap napkining…but eventually someone will say something and you’ll give in. And for what reason? What horrible thing might happen if you choose to keep your napkin on the table, near your hands, where you can grab it when you need to wipe your mouth or blow your nose?
This line previously included a slew of obscenities hurled at the act of lap napkining, FYI.
Look — I don’t get into this whole lap napkining thing. I don’t. I don’t care what other people are doing at the dinner table, and I don’t care how many people look at me or glare at my nether-region in an attempt to allude to the fact that I’ve forgotten “one very important aspect of the dining process.” I don’t care if two times in my entire life an escaping piece of meatball falls forth from my open mouth and stains my pants. Big deal. That’s what washers were invented for. And I’m a man. I don’t need to feel like I’m wearing a cloth skirt at the dinner table. I like to cross my legs. Even under the table. And lap napkining doesn’t work with crossed legs, if you must know.
It falls right through the space between.
So go ahead and keep lap napkining away if you must. Protect your beloved white jeans from marinara sauce. But know that while you’re lap napkining you’re also giving up your individuality and your personal respect at the same time. If you’re okay with surveillance cameras in your cities (hollah, UK!) and you’re okay with giving up your personal freedoms thanks to the Patriot Act (woot woot, USA!”) and you have no issues whatsoever with the sensless killing of outerspace Thetans now entrenched in your bodies as we speak (do ya hear me, Scientologists!?) — then the act of lap napkining is probably just one more thing you’ll deal with.
But I won’t.
I welcome the splatters, the stains, the food rubs and the sauce drips. I stand strong in the face of streaks, slips, and butter knife tumbles. I remain a masculine man of manliness, wearing no cloth skirt whatsoever, and not afraid of the meatball mash, the jelly jump or the sundae slip. I don’t care, nor do I fear them.
And I am definitely not getting into lap napkining just because you say I should.
And in other news, tomorrow brings us yet another edition of “Words For Your Enjoyment”! So, if you’ve got an idea for a post and you’ve got the cajones to submit one — then we challenge you to do so. Did that threat make you do it? No? Well, there’s a dollar in it for you if you do. Kidding. WFME will not bribe people with prizes. Never.