Liloia.com

Happy Thanksgiving!

Here's hoping that everyone has had an excellent thanksgiving and isn't too stuffed! I know I am!

Tara made a fanstastic meal and we will be eating turkey for the next three weeks.

:)

Metal Moments

I just watched The Top 40 Least Metal Moments and I'm jonesing for my old Warrant, Damn Yankees and Iron Maiden albums. The ones that never made it past cassette and into my CD collection.

Bad Parenting

All the negatives, none of the positives?

I stated previously that "Working for the man is a dying ideology" and the phrase still fits. I posed that comment to about six or seven of my co-workers/friends and all of them (save two, whom I wasn’t surprised in the least by) looked at me as if they were Chewbacca trying to understand why Han wasn't responding to him from inside the carbonite. Is it really all that difficult a concept to grasp? Perhaps none of them really know how to deal with that thought, or what they would do if "The Man" wasn't guiding their every movement.

The one thing at work that I was really enjoying hasn’t been given the time to flourish and develop in recent months. By pushing it aside for the “fire of the day” I think I may have ostracized myself from the group that I am most interested in being a part of. Perhaps I can allocate more time to that project in the next few days, weeks, months, oh no there it goes again.

Why the title? All the negatives, none of the positives? Well, the way things are right now, I am living the life of a traveling salesman.

I live away from home for most of the week, but I don't get to go anywhere interesting.

I travel all the time, live by my cell phone and out of a bag but no one picks up the tab.

No commission, no bonuses but by the look of it and the amount I work you would think I was on 100% commission.

Most importantly, I am away from the two most important people in my life. I miss them and I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.

Don't rock the boat 'til it rocks you.

What are you paying for when you eat at a restaurant? The food, certainly. A pleasant, or at least civil, attitude on the part of the server. Reasonable speed and accuracy. A clean, safe, non-offensive spot in which to eat your meal.

The food at Denny's was very late, but we hadn't noticed. Dave and Trevor were absorbed in a game and I was shuffling through the Saturday newspaper, reading out tidbits of facts and news. We sipped our drinks, we were content.

Suddenly, one of the servers planted himself in front of the kitchen door about four feet from our table and yelled into the food preparation area, "I don't know what your problem is, man, but I've been waiting about 500 f*cking minutes for food." There was a collective gasp from all of the patrons on that side of the restaurant. He continued to argue with a cook about the speed of the food and stomped off toward the register.

I looked around and people were staring and whispering, but shrugging it off. I am well aware that Denny's isn't a four-star establishment, but you should at least receive six-dollars worth of courtesy for the price of your entree. The server was self-righteously stomping around behind the counter, muttering to himself and occasionally throwing nasty comments at the kitchen for everyone to hear, and I found myself on my feet walking toward him.

Now I am not a confrontational person, but for some reason this dude's attitude really ticked me off. Not a single other employee approached him to tell him to cool it, no other patron seemed about to do anything either.

I got to him and asked quietly, "Excuse me, are you the man who is waiting 500 f*cking minutes for food?" He stuttered, a little surprised. "Uh.. yeah. I.. Uh." I continued, "Your language is inappropriate, especially when my six-year-old is sitting four feet away. He doesn't need to hear that." He apologized and I went back to my seat, not necessarily vidicated, but at least glad we wouldn't have to hear his profanity again during our lunch.

Not fifteen seconds later, he was back at the kitchen pass-through window. "I don't know what the f*ck you're doing back there, but I'm still waiting for this sh*t." He was quieter this time, but clearly audible to everyone near the kitchen. I stood up again, heading for a woman who looked like she might be in charge or know who was. On my way past the table behind us, a man stopped me with a furtive whisper, "Don't say anything." I was stunned and I actually stopped walking for a moment. This was an adult man who seemed fully in charge of his faculties. In addition, he was eating with a child. What reason would he have to stop me? My protestations were quiet, reasonable and didn't affect him at all -- so why stop me and not the person doing wrong?

"It's not appropriate," I answered and continued walking. The girl I stopped at was rolling silverware into napkins and as I talked to her, the rolling got faster and more frantic. Servers were avoiding the volatile guy and I wondered if he had a hidden glock or some other sharp object that made everyone afraid of him.

"Excuse me, I just asked that guy to watch his language and he walked right back over there and yelled "f*ck" again. Does my child need to hear that language at lunch? Is there someone here I can speak to, like a manager, to get this stopped?" Her fingers flew over the napkins and she refused to meet my eyes. "Um, there's no manager here until 5:00. I'm sorry. Of all the words you really want your kid to be repeating, huh?" she shrugged sheepishly and helplessly. I walked back to the table angrier than when I left it.

I know I'm not going to be able to stop Trevor from hearing every type of profanity under the sun. He hears it all over, I'm sure. I've slipped in front of him. People at work swear in front of him. But at a restaurant, I am paying for service with the expectation of a family-friendly atmosphere, especially at a restaurant aimed at family business. As a poor consolation, our waitress apologized when she delivered our food, but offered no tangible remedy like, "I've talked to him" or "your sodas are on the house" -- anything to make it seem like they were really contrite and not just appeasing the whiny customer.

So be warned that if you're heading for Denny's in South Burlington, VT on Swift Street, that you might just find a little R-rated theater with your dinner. No extra charge.

No water for you!

Hey there Red States--

You have to go through us to get to the ocean, so watch it.

--The Blue States

Have fun without me.

Things have changed since the last BloggerCon at Harvard. Dave Winer has relocated to California and moved the conference with him. I have relocated to Vermont and moved a third of my family with me.

I was excited about BloggerCon this year because of the proposed election discussions. There's a deceptively large amount to discuss behind the simple-looking phrase, "the ghost of Howard Dean."

Anyway, I had my flight picked out and my air miles ready for the trip. There were just a few details left to confirm. Then I got all caught up in some little project going on at work and realized today that I never booked my flight. It's about a thousand dollars more than it was a month ago and way over my budget. Sent in my regrets. Whoever takes my place—enjoy.

A very long day at work.

Something feels eerily familiar about this election drama—with a few understudies:

Ohio will be playing the role of Florida.
"Provisional ballot" will be playing the role of "hanging chad."
J. Kenneth Blackwell will be playing the role of Theresa LePore.
Green is the new red/blue.