Life Lessons By Comic

We’ve all been there, we’ve all seen it. We go out to a restaurant in hopes of having a nice meal, served to us in a nice atmosphere, and tended to by nice people…and then the last part of that equation falls through the floor.

I guess it’s just one of those expectations I have going into a night out. I expect to have good service. After all, it’s part of what you’re paying for as a customer, and something the establishment should have prepared. Good food, absolutely important. But I can stand a mediocre meal if the service is absolutely outstanding. However, give me the best dinner ever created, but serve it with disregard and disrespect and the food won’t compete with the bile that is bubbling.

With all that in mind, something I do very consciously is tip according to the level of service I, or my family, receive. What I don’t buy into is the idea of a X% minimum tip. To that point, when I sit down for a meal, the waiter or waitress starts with a given percentage tip already in their pocket – normally the traditional 15%. At that point, it’s for him or her to win or lose against. Make sure the glasses never empty at the table, check in with us during dinner (but not to the point of being a nuisance), and be timely with the check and I’ll bump up to 20 or 25%. BUT…pretend that we’re not around…that there are more important things to do – like chat with the other employees over at the bar – and that number plummets. I understand that tips make up the majority of a wait staff’s income, but thinking that it’s something that is owed just doesn’t sit well with me.

How about with you? Is tipping automatic for you, or do you gauge it based on the quality of service you get?

B.

Happy Day of Excess

Ok, it’s pretty well accepted that Thanksgiving is the National Day of Excess here in the United States.  However, I would propose that Thanksgiving is traditionally planned, managed, and executed by the women of the nation.  Granted, we love them for it, but they are the ones who are up at all God awful hours of the morning, and spend most of the day slaving away in front of the oven. 

But today is all about us men.  Today is the day WE make the plans, we fire up the grills and order the wings.  Beer flows freely from the refrigerators, and chips bask in onion dip goodness.  We sit in front of obscenely large televisions – more and more so in high definition – and root our favorite teams on.  For most of us in the nation, our teams sucked to the point of not making the big dance, so our cheers are based on our position in the football pools for which we spent hours choosing one square over the next, irregardless that one square is not better than the other until the numbers are chosen.

So here’s to us men, and our day of plenty!  May the food always be hot and spicy, the beer never run out, and the commercials rock over last year.  Finally, I hope everyone can choose to celebrate “National Day-After-The-Superbowl” day with me tomorrow, and take a vacation day from work.

I love chocolate, but...

I understand it’s Atlantic City, the closest thing you can get to Vegas this side of the Mississippi…at least it tries to be.  I understand there will be people who unexpectedly win big on the crap’s table or hit that random slot machine for the jackpot, but can there really be a market for this thing?  Either way, like one guy said in the video on the webpage – “I’ll stick to Little Debbie.”

The Death of a Gamer

It’s time I finally come to grips and begin the mourning process. It is not easy to recognize the truth and accept it, but it will be for the best all around I am sure. After many an adventure through countless arenas and landscapes, I have lost my primary gaming partner. My wife no longer enjoys gaming.

</me bursts into uncontrollable fits of sobs and tears>

Ok, enough dramatics. It’s a bitch, no question about it. Around 4 or so years ago, my wife finally bit the bullet for me and made a concerted effort to get into gaming. She recognized it as one of my passions and favorite hobbies, and wanted to share in it with me. After a few failed MMOs (Horizons & EQ2 specifically, as well as several betas), we found City of Heroes, and then later City of Villains. I can’t count the number of nights we fought side by side to keep Paragon City clear of the scum, and later to cause panic and disarray throughout the Isles. However, eventually that game ran its course, and we retired our tights to the closet never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, with her tights my wife retired her desire to game. Life has continued to get more and more hectic, with just about every evening of the week tied to one of the kids activities. Add to that keeping up with the house and her daily trip to the gym each morning, and what I’ve been told is there just isn’t the time for it, nor the burning desire to do it. Other priorities have taken over – and rightfully so.

But that doesn’t mean I miss my partner any less. We were able to laugh together most of the time, curse at each other some of the time, but always have fun at the end of the night. I will certainly keep a candle burning and in the window in case she might return to my side at some point. After all – hope is a wonderful thing. ;)

B.

Herding cats...

...that's what a birthday party at the local bowling alley complete with twenty 6-year olds felt like.

Chaos, pure unadulterated chaos. Mix in a huge helping of energy, topped off at the end of the evening with a serving of icing-induced sugar rush, and it's something that even a Guinness and two Excedrin Migraine tabs can't cure. You would think that for one hour, forty-five minutes, a grown adult – let alone two as I had my wife there as well – could handle anything. Well, I’ll be fair…nobody died. No kid went home with a blood soaked shirt or holes in the pants. Hell, we didn’t even trash the place like I’ve seen at other parties. But my God were we loud…and to know you’re loud in the middle of a bowling alley is saying something. ;)

I’m going to dedicate this blog to a person I met only today, but feel he must have a soul of iron, forged right out of the depths of the Earth. I’m speaking of our party host. This poor kid – couldn’t have been 20 – purposefully submits himself to this each and every weekend in order to give us parents a measure of relief in throwing these parties for our kids. How he does it I couldn’t fathom. This easily goes up as the second job I’ve witnessed and will never, EVER do myself. The first is a pharmaceutical sales rep, the second is a children’s party host. They both take a beating and keep on coming back for more. Sick, sick people they are, but they make our lives better and for that I thank them here and now.

So, until next year, about this time...I’ll be recovering. Hey, with any luck I can talk my youngest that it’s really “the thing” to do like his older siblings and just have two or three friends over, go out for dinner, hit the theaters…hell, even have a sleepover. THAT I can manage. Will it happen…doubt it. But won’t be long till I can bid the bowling alley / Chucky Cheese / Fun Zone Arcade farewell forever … and rejoice every day after that.

B.