Stupid People #2 – Soprano’s Italian and American Grill Lake George NY
In Lake George, NY, charges have been dropped against Humberto Taveras after he was alleged to have left a less-than-desired tip for dinner. (Newsday story)
Mr. Taveras ate at the restaurant on September 9 with a party of 8 people. He wasn’t happy with the service provided by the restaurant, so he left a tip of about 12%. The menu listed a mandatory gratuity of 18% for parties of 6 or more. When he left a smaller tip, the restaurant owner (Joe Soprano) had him arrested for theft of services.
The Warren County District Attorney dropped the charges yesterday, stating that customers cannot be required to pay a gratuity.
A india tadalafil Propecia lawsuit has already been submitted by thousands of guys from different places. Basically, Kamagra is robertrobb.com cheap viagra considered in the category of the PDE type-5 inhibitors. Testosterone is the male hormone ordering viagra online necessary for a healthier sexual life. Chris Heaton-Harris, Conservative MP for Daventry and a former non-executive director of Barclays, yesterday viagra online store joined the list of complete ingredients of this medicine before you start using this medicine, as every medicine has some side effects. What’s most worrisome to me is the attitude of the restaurant owner that a gratuity is required. A gratuity is just that – something given in thanks for good service. It is never required, though you shouldn’t be too surprised if you have to wait forever for food that has been spit upon if you come back to a the same place after leaving a lousy tip.
I generally tip 15%. Twenty years ago, I can remember the expected tip being 10%. Now, it seems like 20% is not only expected but demanded for average service. I generally use 15% because it’s fairly easy to calcluate in my head. I do tend to round up, especially if I get good service, but I’m also not afraid to reduce the tip for poor service.
A mandatory gratuity is an oxymoron. The folks at Soprano’s qualify as morons as well.
Stupid People #1 – Texas Rangers
(Plenty of people being stupid – it’s time to write a few up.)
Texas Rangers rookie reliever Frank Francisco was arrested Tuesday after an altercation at Monday night’s Oakland A’s game vs. the Rangers in Oakland. (AP Story at SI.com)
It seems that the game was very close in the bottom of the ninth, and the Rangers had just tied the score with a home run. Some trash talk (note, that *talk*, nothing physical) started between the A’s fans and the Texas bullpen. This apparently enraged Francisco, who threw a metal folding chair into the stands. It bounced off one man’s head and hit a woman in the face, breaking her nose.
He’s been arrested and charged with aggravated assault. The game was suspended for about a half-hour and the fans were cleared from the area. The teams and umpires decided to resume the game rather than declare a forfeit (for which side is unclear).
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This guy is an idiot. He’s playing in the majors – he’s gotta be making a few hundred thousand dollars in salary. Anybody making that much can afford to hear a little trash talk without overreacting.
Even stupider is the Texas coach, Buck Showalter. He claimed that it was the fans’ fault that one of his overpaid players just had to throw a heavy object at fans.
I hope the league comes to its senses and suspends Francisco and fines Showalter.
My September 11 Story
Tomorrow marks three years after September 11, 2001. I think perhaps it’s time to write down my personal story. (Thanks to Michele who prompted me with her article on the subject.) It’s not exciting – I didn’t know anyone hurt or killed – but it was traumatizing to me just the same.
The Orange Couch
Michele, of A Small Victory, has posted an article on retro fashions coming around again – particularly ponchos. That leads me to believe that it’s time for the story of my Orange Couch.
(It helps that I’m listening to the 80’s channel off the net.)
The Orange Couch
In the very early 90’s, I had just graduated from college where I lived in the dorms. I was living in an apartment that was the converted 2nd floor of a Cape Cod in Fairlawn, NJ. The owners had installed locking doors between the hallway and their two first-floor front rooms, and a locking door at the top of the stairs for the upstairs apartment. There was a full bath upstairs, a little kitchen, and two big rooms with window air conditioners. The old husband downstairs was a nice guy and good landlord – unfortunately he died three weeks after I moved in and his wife was a real pain in the neck.
Since I was just out of school, I had no furniture. My bed was a twin from my parents – the same one I’d had since I was 5 years old (I have it again in my guest room now). My dresser was bought from a neighbor for $10. My desk was also from Dad – the one he had at college.
I needed some living room furniture. Luckily, my boss had a couch and loveseat set that he wanted to get rid of. I said I’d go to his house to look at it and take it if it was acceptable.
So, one Saturday afternoon, my father and I took the 1974 Gran Torino Station Wagon (the wagon version of Starsky & Hutch’s ride – I’ll do a story on that car sometime – the picture is correct except that it’s a 1973 and ours was brown) up to his house in Nanuet, NY.
We entered the room where the couch was kept, and discovered that they were ORANGE. Bright, flaming orange velvet. The upholstery was a little worn, but otherwise they were in great shape. Rather than look a gift horse in the mouth, we took them.
The Gran Torino wagon was a trooper – we fit the couch inside with the back window rolled down, and tied the loveseat on top. We drove it to my apartment.
We got the loveseat up the narrow stairs, around the tight corner into the tiny hallway, and into the living room. Then, we started on the couch. We got to the top of the stairs and found that the couch was long enough that it didn’t fit through the doorway upright. It didn’t even fit on a diagonal – the ceiling was very low. The hall was so tight that we couldn’t even go in horizontally. The couch was a loss.
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It was another week or so before we were ready to do the dis-/re-assembly. We carefully pulled out the upholstery staples and peeled it back from one end of the couch. We found that the end was attached to the frame by three supports – one at the top of the back and two at the front and back of the bottom. If we cut through them, we’d be fine. So, we peeled even more upholstery back from the end to expose the side of those pieces of wood and then we were ready.
I can’t remember now whether we used a power tool or a saw, but we cut through the supports carefully. Once all three were cut, we then reassembled the end and drilled holes. We installed 5-inch lag bolts into the holes and tightened them down. My father did a really good job – he even countersunk the bolt heads so that we didn’t have them sticking out.
Once this was complete, we took it apart again and loaded up the wagon again. Off to the apartment, and up the stairs. In two pieces, the couch made it into the living room. We then re-bolted and stapled the upholstery down again. The couch was once again complete.
At the end of the lease, I’d had enough of my crazy landlady. I moved to a “garden” apartment in a worse neighborhood on the Bergenfield/Teaneck border – near the Teaneck National Guard armory. This was a borderline bad neighborhood – at one point I had to call the police for domestic abuse in the apartment next door. There was no parking, either – to get your reserved parking place you had to be home by 7 or 8pm.
We took the couch apart carefully, moved it to the new apartment, and re-assembled it. That was the last move I ever made with the Gran Torino wagon – it was mercifully donated to the Jewish Heritage Federation for the Blind the next year as a tax writeoff after a total brake failure on Route 17 – at the grand age of 18 and over 130,000 miles. The couch was put back together again for good – the new apartment didn’t require it to be in pieces for moving.
The couch and loveseat stayed with me for a while longer. I moved them to my one-bedroom Hamilton, NJ apartment where it remained for 16 months. Then, it moved to my house (which I’ve now owned for almost 9 years). It stayed in the family room for about 6 months until we got 2 new couches. It was then left out at the curb and the loveseat kept in the living room of our 4 bedroom house until we finally got around to getting better furniture for that room.
The couch wasn’t dead yet. Our house was bought brand-new – and the neighborhood was still being completed. The site manager’s office was the garage of the house across the street and we discovered that the couch hadn’t been picked up by the township – the builders had grabbed it to use in their office.
My boss and I were able to trace the couch’s lineage – I was the 5th known owner. It had been passed around from formerly-single person now-married to a new single person since it’s creation (presumably in the 70’s). It was a really comfortable couch for snoozing! My new couches were chosen to match the shape and feel of this ancient wonder.
I wonder where it is now …..
Kill the Wabbit, accidentally
I have to confess – I accidentally killed a baby bunny last night.
We have a couple of rabbits living on the property – they were here when the land was a horse farm and moved back after our house and the rest of the neighborhood were built in 1995-96. We’ve lived in harmony with them ever since – my wife even puts an upside-down frisbee in the garden to catch water for them and the birds.
I was cutting the lawn last night. I had cut it the previous Saturday (9 days earlier), but the rainy week made it grow very quickly. I would have cut it over the weekend rather than on a Monday, but on Saturday I had too many family obligations and on Sunday we had Tropical Storm Charley. The grass was very long.
In the front yard, I noticed the big rabbit inching towards the lawn as I cut in an inward spiral. Unfortunately, I was in the way and she didn’t get into the lawn.
Suddenly, I ran close to a rabbit hole and 4 or 5 little bunnies came flying out of the hole. They scattered in the lawn and bushes near the house. I stomped around in the tall grass to flush them away from the uncut lawn, but didn’t find any.
Flushing levitra 5mg after the intake of the drug happens during sexual stimulation and the effects intensify. After you’ve been legitimately analyzed by a speloved that viagra 100 mgt it might then be conceivable to have your surgical treatment done. It will make you feel good discount sale viagra about yourself and boost up your confidence. This is borne out by the mini-boom in retro gaming with at least one company providing browser game versions of “classics” which first saw the light of the above facts, it is evident that viagra levitra cialis the Black Musli is a herb that must be protected and preserved for medicinal use. A few circuits later, I was mowing when suddenly one of the bunnies ran out from under the lawnmower! He had done too good a job of hiding. He escaped. I looked around again and scared away another one hiding in the uncut grass.
Finally, I finished the main lawn and moved onto the part between the sidewalk and street. The Mama rabbit was still sitting in that grass, so I moved out to the street and scared her back onto the main lawn. Then, I started cutting.
I was about 1/2 way done with this section when a baby bunny came flying out of the lawnmower. This one wasn’t so lucky – he was bleeding heavily and clearly mangled. I stopped the lawnmower and went to the garage to find a way to put him out of his misery. After that was done, the bunny was bagged up for the trash and my wife went and got out the hose to clean the sidewalk while I finished mowing.
I mowed slowly for the last bit of lawn. After I was done, I went across the street to scare the baby bunny out from under a car where it had fled. Then I went inside, got some baby carrots, and spread them out near the hole. It was the least I could do.
I feel terrible about it. I think I did everything that I could to avoid this tragedy short of raking the lawn, but I still feel bad that it had to happen.
Leah Athena Schlenker
Welcome to the world, Leah.
You arrived on Monday, August 9, 2004 at 1:01am at Mercer Medical Center in Trenton, NJ. You came into the world at a respectable 7 lbs. 8 oz. and 20 inches long.
You were a little late getting here (9 days overdue), but once you decided to get here you got here fairly quickly. Your mother (Andrea Schwartz) managed not to need any drugs for your delivery, as she wished.
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Your birth was attended by your father (Scott Schlenker) and sister (Kirah Schlenker) and your aunt Tasha Schwartz.
The world that you’re coming into is a little scary at the moment, but it was that way when your parents arrived as well. Their decision to bring you into the world will make this a better place now and into the future. Your mother, father and sister are all good people – you’ll do fine. (There are lots of other fine people around you as well, but these are the important ones.)
Remember this – you’ll always have your friends Mark and Carolyn to fall back on, if you need us. I’m sure that you won’t – your family will do a great job raising you, but we’ll be here for a while yet as a backup.
Another Dental Dispatch
A co-worker told me this true story about his experience yesterday. I thought it might amuse you.
This particular co-worker is an amateur hockey player. Thus, he has the traditional hockey dental work – bridges and such.
He had pain in one tooth that was bothering him so much that he had trouble sleeping. He made an appointment with the dentist. His theory was that he had gotten food (probably the ribs he’d just eaten) stuck between the tooth and the adjacent bridge.
He got to the dentist and explained the theory. The dentist pooh-poohed the theory until he started rooting around. Then, he found the cause.
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It gets better.
Dentist: You just can’t use that cheap floss.
Patient: But you GAVE me that cheap floss. I don’t buy floss – I use the stuff that you give me!
True story.
My Wife’s Been Promoted!
My wife got big news last week. She’s being promoted!
I don’t think I’ve talked about her much here, so here’s a brief synopsis of who she is. She’s a little bit older than me, and we met in college at Rutgers. She graduated with two Bachelor’s degrees: Mechanical Engineering and Economics. She’s been working for the same company since then – a company that’s been bought and sold many times. They’re currently owned by a major multi-national industrial company whose name you would probably recognize (but I won’t mention it here). In addition to her degrees, my wife has gotten her Professional Engineer license in NJ and Project Management Professional (PMP) certification.
She’s also a bit of an odd duck. She and I share a skewed view of the universe – sort of the “Monty Python” take on life. (In fact, our first date was to see “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” on campus.) She manages to pull off strange acts like using sock puppets in meetings and beating trees with newspaper (to get the sap running in the spring – it was actually suggested by an arborist). She’s extremely good at engineering, project management, and customer relations so people are willing to overlook the occasional eccentricity. (I actually LOVE the eccentricity – though it’s much more often than occasional at home.)
For the last year and a bit, she’s been in the large company’s Black Belt program. This program takes regular people, gives them loads of project management training, and turns them into Change Agents. The Black Belt requirements have them running at least 3 major projects in 2 years producing cost savings or revenue improvements. They have to actually go hunting for the projects – management points them at a trouble area and tells them “Have at it.” They also have to supervise two “Green Belts” – people who get a watered-down version of the same training and who only spend 10-20% of their time on such things.
With the Black Belt program, you get pulled out of your regular job for the time in the program. Theoretically, your job is left open for you to return to if you decide that the Black Belt program isn’t working out or after you get your Black Belt certification. In practice, you’ve been identified as a “High Potential” employee and the company WILL try to find you a place once you’re done.
Her company is in the throes of a major reorganization. Everybody has been asked to apply for a job internally – either your current job, another job, or both. She chose to apply for jobs as Manager of Project Engineering, and Manager of Project Management. (Somebody wanted her to be a Supply Chain Manager, but she didn’t really want to run a warehouse.)
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I’m very proud of her. She’s a little nervous, but I know that she can do the job – maybe after a few rough patches up front. She’s gonna have some challenges – the three people in Trenton have been there a long time (as long as her or more in most cases), and it sounds like several of them applied for the same job and lost. It doesn’t help that they’re all male and I believe older than her. They’ll just have to get over it – my wife had nothing to do with them not being chosen, and very little to do with her being chosen beyond applying for the jobs. She’ll do fine.
Some people have asked me whether I have an issue with making less than my wife. It’s a tough explanation. I don’t have a problem with her making more than me – and part of me wants her to make ENOUGH that I can stay at home and still fly planes for fun (she’s a ways off from that).
I do have a little trouble with the idea that her promotion shines a light on how my career has been stagnating for several years now. I’m in the IT field, and it’s been over 5 years since I’ve been promoted or gotten better than the measly 3% raises that they hand out. I think I may have stayed too long under a boss who really doesn’t believe in me. I’m increasingly thinking that it’s time to go – find another job elsewhere. So – no – I don’t mind my wife making more than me but I really wish that my career was succeeding as well. Not her fault.
Of course, she could buy me lots of expensive toys to make up for it …..
Yay, Sweetie!
Dental Hygienist or Advertising?
Last night, I went to the dentist for a cleaning. I’ve been going to this dentist since I moved to the area in 1993.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my regular hygienist wasn’t there. In fact, NOBODY who worked there at my last cleaning in January was there except for the dentist. The entire staff had changed.
I had no issue with the office staff changing – the old staff used to screw up appointments and make last-minute changes all of the time. I also had no issue with the dental assistant changing – I didn’t see the old one very often (just for fillings).
However, the old hygienist was gone. Stacy was great – she’d been working with me for all of those 10-11 years. She was very pleasant, gentle, and expedient. I do a very good job of home care, so it generally takes me about 30 minutes in the chair (as opposed to the 45 minutes scheduled).
The new hygienist is rather rough around the edges. For one thing, she’s a bit too enamored of the “new” ways of doing things:
1. She uses one of those vibro-water picks rather than the old metal instruments. That ends up making my gums hurt more than they used to.
2. She fills the rinse cup with Listerine. Now, I don’t like Listerine – even the “cool mint” blue stuff. Why not just water like before?
3. For some reason, she managed to stretch my cleaning out to 45 minutes. My wife’s was 45 minutes also. Add to that the fact that she was running 30 minutes late and we were in the office for about an hour longer than expected.
4. She seems more like a salesman than a hygienist.
5. She repeatedly picks on what I do wrong.
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The last two are my chief complaints.
First, I brush too hard. That erodes my teeth a little around the gumline and is harder on my gums. I’m 36 years old. The way I brush isn’t likely to change much. I also have very strong teeth – so the erosion is slow. So far, I’ve had to have one tooth bonded because I wore away a bit too much enamel – but that one is chiefly because my front teeth aren’t straight.
This hygienist started with “you have very good teeth – you do a good job with home care”. She said that once. Then, she started a continuous patter of “you shouldn’t brush so hard – your gums have floss cuts – you shouldn’t brush so hard”. On about the 5th cycle of repitition, I finally stopped her and said “I got the point.”
Second, she seems to be a salesperson for dental accessories. She tried to push electric toothbrushes on me several times. With my wife (who has essentially permanent braces on the back of her teeth), she was pushing a Water Pik, electric toothbrushes, and prescription toothpaste.
I didn’t expect a tooth cleaning to sound like a timeshare presentation, but that’s what it was like. I can understand the electric toothbrush – maybe. The Water Pik – OK – maybe for the specific problem. But prescription toothpaste? I’m already sick of the “new, expensive drug-of-the-month” pressure from my doctors, but has it finally spread to dentists? What is a prescription toothpaste gonna give you that a few extra seconds of brushing won’t?
I want my old hygienist back.
My dentist did say to my wife to speak up about things that bother us, rather than switching practices (which most people probably do). I have a call into him to talk about the hygienist’s “chair-side-manner” problems. I would seriously consider switching to get a good hygienist – I see the hygienist for 30 minutes every 6 months – I see the dentist for 5 minutes every 6 months and MAYBE a filling every 4-5 years.
If you’re in the Trenton, NJ area and want the name of this dentist to choose or avoid (I can make a case for either – the dentist does REALLY good work outside of cleanings), send me an e-mail.
One out of Three is bad
The Blogverse is up in arms about this story: When One is Enough
The gist is this – a 34-year-old feminist decides to have children with her boyfriend. She stops taking the pill and gets pregnant. She visits the doctor, who informs her that she’s going to have triplets.
Here’s where the story gets bad.
My immediate response was, I cannot have triplets. I was not married; I lived in a five-story walk-up in the East Village; I worked freelance; and I would have to go on bed rest in March. I lecture at colleges, and my biggest months are March and April. I would have to give up my main income for the rest of the year. There was a part of me that was sure I could work around that. But it was a matter of, Do I want to?
Yes, that’s right. She doesn’t want all three – she isn’t willing to accept the negative effects on her lifestyle that triplets would bring.
When we saw the specialist, we found out that I was carrying identical twins and a stand alone. My doctors thought the stand alone was three days older. There was something psychologically comforting about that, since I wanted to have just one. Before the procedure, I was focused on relaxing. But Peter was staring at the sonogram screen thinking: Oh, my gosh, there are three heartbeats. I can’t believe we’re about to make two disappear. The doctor came in, and then Peter was asked to leave. I said, ”Can Peter stay?” The doctor said no. I know Peter was offended by that.
She decides to have a procedure called “selective reduction”. This involves killing one or more of the fetuses. This is generally done in multiple birth cases (think quads or quints or more) because the mother can’t possibly successfully support all of the fetuses to full term – to save some rather than losing all of them. This is the first I’ve ever heard of a “convenience” selective reduction.
I am VERY pro-choice. I would much rather see a fetus aborted than an unwanted child be born to be abused, abandoned, or worse.
The question of whether or not a rape victim should be able to abort a fetus is no question to me – unquestionably yes.
The question of whether an unintended pregnancy by a very young woman should be stopped is still fairly easy – unquestionably yes.
That’s where the line starts to blur.
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I feel the same about abortion of genetically-damaged fetuses (like Down’s Syndrome detected in the womb). I’m glad that I don’t have to make the decision, and the woman should be able to make it herself.
Then you get to convenience.
I feel strongly that it’s not right for a woman to have serial abortions as a form of birth control. Condoms are cheap and quite effective.
I feel strongly that it’s not right for a woman to have an abortion to avoid the stress of an unintended pregnancy in some cases. I think that morally you should be limited to one abortion – any more and you’re clearly not being careful enough with birth control.
In Amy Richards case – this is just wrong. She wanted to have a child, but balked at having more than one. She ended up choosing WHICH children to eliminate. This is just a selfish act.
This is also putting us dangerously close to choosing sex or other characteristics. I can see the day where you hear a woman flippantly say, “Well, it turned out to have brown eyes and I really wanted blue so I had it eliminated. I’ll try again in 6 months.” That is just plain wrong on so many levels.
As a man, I will never have to make the final choice. In my marriage, we take sufficient precautions to avoid unplanned pregnancy – I will probably never have the opportunity to make the choice. However, I would NEVER decide to get rid of SOME of the children.
The next time you are with a group of kids – imagine. If you had to choose 2 of the group to get rid of, who would you choose?
Cases like Amy Richards move me much closer to the pro-life side. Not across the line, but closer to it.
A Small Victory discusses it, along with this heart-wrenching post from Auteriffic.
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