Early Shows, Late Shows & No Shows

As the eldest approaches marriage-hood, I thought it wise to school him on the finer points of society. Why haven't I done this before? Sadly, I've been remiss. It simply slipped my crowded keppy. And yet, he's done very well without my expert guidance. He tells me he's never been booted from a soiree by a burly bouncer, and I believe him. Still, I thought it best to offer up a list of the types of guests he and his  future Mrs. will encounter when they host their weekly, black-tie only receptions. Our conversation went something like this:

"Honey."
"Yes, Mother?"
"Honey, are you listening?"
"Must I?"
"I'm about to teach you something valuable."
"May I continue to text my beloved across the sea whilst you ramble on, incoherently?"
"You may not."
"Very well, Mother. Go right ahead and tell me something I already know."
"How dare you, eldest son!"
"I apologize, Mother. Forgive me?"
"I'll think about it. Now then, before you enter high society, you should know that there are two types of party guests. The Early Shows and the Late Shows."
"What about the No Shows?"
"Three types of party guests. The Early Shows, the Late Shows and the No Shows."
"Pardon me, Mother, but I believe you're leaving out a significant member of the gathering."
"Am I?"
"The On Times."
"Blimey, child, you are correct. We mustn't omit the prompt arrivals. A rarity in this traffic-laden locale we inhabit."

"Might I add one more to this all-important category, Mother?"
"Yes, son. Do!"
"The Uninviteds."
"Pray tell, what is an Uninvited?"
"I thought it was self-explanatory, Mother. Someone who crashes the afore-mentioned soiree is a rude-ass, unwanted interloper. Hence, an Uninvited."
"I do so love when you say hence."
"My goal in life is to make you happy, Mother."
"On this count, you have succeeded. So, shall we review our list, thus far?"
"Must we?"
"We must, lest I forget it and am unable to share it with the blogosphere."
"Allow me to enumerate. We have the Early Shows, the On Times, the Late Shows, the No Shows, and the Uninviteds."
"I do believe that covers it, my son."
"May I return to texting my beloved?"
"Text away, my son, whilst I sit here addressing the invitations."
"Would you like my help, Mother?"
"Unless your handwriting has miraculous become legible, no."
"How dare you, Mother?"
"How dare I, indeed."