I am sick and tired of coming home from dinner parties hungry!
I'm Sherlock, sniffing, microscopically down the buffet table at the church supper oogling the food and trying to discern it's contents or detect it's origin. If I can figure out who brought it, they don't usually remember the recipe, and for heaven sakes, does noone read labels?????
I remember a essay about a girl and her ignominy of having to explain to the hostess that she had already eaten before she came to the dinner party.
So, it's attitude again? In the end, I should feel like the girl stuffed with pancakes before the party in Gone With the Wind. and I think to myself in a long drawl, "Refined southern gals nevah go to a dinner party expectin' to eat."