What Tipping Once Was
Once upon a time ago (in a decade I certainly don’t remember) tipping wasn’t a required part of daily life. If a waiter performed extremely well, a maitre d led you to an exceptional table, the delivery guy stacked the firewood instead of simply dumping it in a pile in your yard, or the garbage man took the extra can of refuse they received a tip for going above and beyond the normal call of duty.

Why The United States is Stupid
Nowadays in the United States, tipping has lost its true meaning. It is customary (no matter the service) to leave a tip for the waitstaff in a restaurant of approximately 15%, leaving more for exceptional service, or less for sub-par attention. This is stupid, while it allows restaurants pay the waitstaff a below minimum-wage, it defeats the whole purpose behind the “tip”. In most European countries, there is no expectation of a tip, rather it is awarded by choice as a way of saying “thank you” for a waitstaff that goes above and beyond the call of duty…you know, the way it should be!

Tipping Becomes a Shitshow
The other day I arrived downtown via train while it was raining outside. I walked through the outdoor station to the main entrance to get a taxi so that I could reach my final destination. The second I exited the door, I was bombarded by a series of presumably homeless people asking if I needed a cab. Caught off guard I replied yes and seconds later was led to the first cab in the taxi line (where there had been 15+ cabs waiting).

The cab was there, I  knew it was there, and I certainly didn’t need this guy’s help to get into a waiting cab. Then of course the inevitable came. I knew I would have to tip the guy for his unwanted, unneeded, and unappreciated “service”; but then became further annoyed when he said “come on man, make my new year” as if I was going to get into the cab without slipping him some cash.

Please don’t misunderstand, I have absolutely no issue with giving money to homeless people. In fact, I do it all the time. My issue lies in the fact that this gentleman acted like he did me a favor, when in fact he did me a disservice by delaying my departure from the train station thereby keeping me outside longer…in the rain.

This is just one example. In Europe and the USA alike, homless people often point you towards a parking space expecing compensation in return. Although I have seen this be helpful once or twice, 95% of the time it’s been useless. You’re traveling down the street looking for parking, you’ll find the spaces on the street with or without the homeless guy.

While I conceptually admire the fact that they are doing something for money rather than sitting on their asses with a cup begging for it, I would prefer they actually focused their energy on doing something potentially useful like selling newspapers or cleaning windshields, rather than essentially extorting money by making me fear for the well-being of my car while inside the restaurant if I don’t tip them.

I spent a great deal of time traveling this past month, and while waiting for various means of transport, I was inundated with people asking me for a cigarette. Maybe it’s the fact that I like to wear black (it’s the new black, get over it) or the fact that I might look like someone from a cigarette ad (they always use the cool and casual type). The truth is that I don’t smoke. I never have, and I’m proud to say I’ve never even taken one puff off of one of those things. However, I do respect peoples’ decision to smoke, so I’m not mean or condescending when I turn down their plea for something I really don’t have, it just makes them smug (smog?).

When I tell you, No, Sorry I don’t have a cigarette, don’t get all pissy and make a face like I just gave you the finger. It is not my fault you did not pick up another pack of cigarettes when you realized you were running low. It is also not my fault they cost almost $8.00/pack in this city. Additionally, making a face will NOT get you a cigarette from me, because I never had the damn thing in the first place.

Has anyone else had enough of all the stupid Digital Television stuff being advertised? From the federal government advertising the switch from analog to digital, to the infomercial style 3rd party commercials and news media portraying the DTV switch as being the upcoming apocalypse. For those of you who aren’t from the states, or are unfamiliar with this issue, the US Federal Communications Commission (FCC) has mandated that all  stations begin broadcasting using a digital frequency (instead of analogue) effective this coming February.

Most of the propaganda makes it seem like on a certain day in February in 2009, your TV will cease to function. Well I have news for you, in most cases it doesn’t mean anything. That’s right, it’s all a bunch of wasted energy, unless of course you actually watch broadcast television - no cable, no satellite.

I for one don’t know a single person who falls into that category. I’m sure that if I did, they would  have already heard enough about it and taken the proper precautions illustrated in the hilarious video below:

The most ironic thing, is that I have seen a plethora of infomercials, advertisements, and other marketing implements warning poor innocent Americans about the upcoming switch to digital on cable only stations, which means one of two things: either the guys buying ad space in marketing should be fired, or the company is trying to exploit people who don’t understand technology…

Jason

Recently I purchased a new watch and was shortly confronted by one of my least favorite questions: How much was it? What does it matter how much it was? Are you going to buy it for me? I guess not considering I already have it.

To be clear, I’m not talking about when your wife asks you how much something you spent a portion of the family’s fund’s on (because she has a right to ask…and in many cases a right to make you return it as well.) Nor am I talking about when your friend, the fellow watch aficionado asks because he likes it and actually would purchase one for himself depending on the price.

I’m talking about the nosey friend, the one who not so secretly want’s to know how much money you make, how much your “toys” cost, and whether you live on cash or credit.

Alright maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but seriously why don’t these people understand that it’s not any of their business how much the watch, the car, or the autographed picture of Adam West was.

The fact of the matter is that it’s only appropriate to ask “how much” in one of the following scenarios:

1. They’re your accountant or spouse
2. They would actually purchase said item
3. It’s a hot blond asking, and her interest in you is contingent upon the value of said item (in which case you should like, chances are she’s a stripper anyways)

That’s it, otherwise it doesn’t matter. The fact of the matter is the you purchased said item because you liked it, and could afford to justify the associated cost. So, I implore you, next time you’re tempted to ask “how much”, have a little class (I realize this is ironic due to the stripper comment above, just go with it) and just go google it instead of being blatantly nosey and potentially offensive.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone and felt really uncomfortable? Not because of what the person was saying, but because of how they were saying it to you? I’ve come to realize recently that I am a magnet for people with awkward conversation styles.

I can’t erase the memory of conversations past, but I hope that by writing this post I can put those of you that I have yet to meet on notice, thereby avoiding future awkwardness. If you fall into one of the three categories below, do both of us a favor and don’t talk to me:

1.) The Chatty Pee-er

I don’t know about you but when I go into the bathroom at work, I go in there for one reason and one reason only. What reason might that be? I’ll give you a hint, its not to talk to you.

When I’m standing at the urinal dancing with Little Jimmy, please don’t talk to me. Don’t look over at me, don’t attempt to shake my hand and for the love of god, don’t ask me if I’m “workin’ hard or hardly workin’.” I swear, all of the above have happened to me at least one time in the last year.

I’ve also been told by someone who I happened to see in the bathroom more than two times in the same day: “We’ve got to stop meetin’ like this. People are gonna start talkin’.” Huh? We must know very different people. The people who I know don’t watch the bathroom door all day to see who goes in and out, let alone think disturbing thoughts about what they do while inside.

I have also noticed what could be an evolution of the chatty pee-er. I was at the urinal today and a man next to me was clicking away at his Blackberry. While I admire his dexterity, I can’t help but feel that he could’ve waited two minutes. I guess I shouldn’t complain. He could have used that hand to try to give me a high five or a noogie.

The men’s room to me is not a place to go to socialize or discuss world affairs. The men’s room to me is like prison: you go in, you don’t make eye contact with anyone, you don’t stay one second longer than you have to and then you leave.

2.) The Drill Sergeants

One of the things I really love about Americans is that for the most part we are very good about respecting personal space. Most of us have a certain invisible territory around us that we know it’s not cool to invade. Unfortunately, some people haven’t quite picked up on the way we do business here in America.

There are a certain group of people that feel the need to get right up in my grill when talking to me. Almost nose to nose, like they’re coming in for a big sloppy one. It wouldn’t be half bad if attractive people did this to me, but it’s always the people who I couldn’t find less appealing.

I know of a woman in particular who is a major offender. Every time she sees me and wants to engage me in conversation, I find myself behaving like a whipped dog — instinctively slinking backward. Smelling blood, she’ll come in for the kill, getting right up on me like a Parris Island drill instructor with vinegar breath; barking at me about the latest minutiae in her work life. Believe me, everything she says could have been said a few inches further away, or (since she decided to gargle with vinegar that morning) from the other side of the room.

If you feel like you must extend your sphere of influence and wander into my no fly zone, then please don’t talk to me.

3.) The Finishers

Is it too much to ask to be able to finish my own sentence? Apparently it is, since I seem to keep running into people that fall into this third category. Two of whom I actually worked with day to day.

The Finisher is hard-wired by evolution (or in the perfect image of the deity of your choice) to try to finish my sentences. They haven’t been programmed to finish them correctly, but they can’t stop themselves from giving it the old college try.

If you don’t know what I mean, I’ll give you an example:

Jim: “If you want to send an email, you will want to click this button that says…”
Person who shouldn’t be talking to me: “Delete”

As my example shows, The Finisher will insist on trying to complete the sentence that I started. I haven’t done any scientific testing on this but I would estimate that 99% of the time, The Finisher will guess the wrong ending to my sentence.

I don’t necessarily love surprises, but I won’t go out of my way to spoil something. If I miss the second half of a Lost season on television and have to wait for the DVD, I’ll try to avoid what happens in the finale until I can see it. To a much smaller degree, when I’m having a conversation with someone, I’ll try to let them finish their own sentence without spoiling it. Since I don’t know what they’re going to say, (and it’s freaking rude to do otherwise) I’ll let myself be surprised. I could always try to finish the season of Lost that I missed, but I’ll leave that to the professionals.

So there they are, the three top conversation offenders. I’m not naïve enough to think that I can actually get these people to stop talking to me, or that I could go through life without running into them. But I’m hoping that maybe one person at a time we can fight conversational discomfort. And if I can get a couple less annoying people to keep yammering at me, then its a big bonus.

Jim

Read more posts by Jim at HoagiesWithMyles.com

There has been a lot of press in the last 36 hours about Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich, who allegedly attempted to sell an Illinois seat in the United States Senate. The seat was left vacant as a result of the presidential election, leaving the loser governor with the responsibility of filling it.

This really isn’t much of a surprise. The people of Illinois all knew he would be going to jail, but we assumed it wouldn’t be until after his term in office, and nobody really knew what it would be for.

The real issue here that I want an answer to isn’t whether he is guilty, nor is it who will be appointed; the real issue is about those damn Open Road Tolling signs. You see while serving as governor, Blagojevich commissioned parallel road construction on all major Illinois highways. That means if there are two main roads leading south, he made sure both would be under construction at the same time, which is also true for travel to the north and west (there is a lake to the east). This increased both stress and aggravation in addition to travel times.

At the termination of the aforementioned construction, his first Pièce de résistance (before being arrested) was to christen each of those construction sites with this:

Better get out the blue paint...

I had always thought it must have been a huge waste of money to begin with, but now am left wondering how much it will cost the state of Illinois to change all of them, or if I’ll have to buy the paint and do it myself.

Tenemos un sin verguenza,

Juan Luis

Now I know what a lot of you are thinking: Why would Jason L’Monaco be flying commercial…believe me it’s something I ask myself too, but sometimes it just makes sense. On a recent intercontinental flight I not only flew commercial, I flew economy class (a discussion I’d rather not get into). It was on this flight that I was reminded of the following: some civilians don’t understand how to properly exit a seat on a commercial airliner.

It’s understandable that one may have difficulty exiting his or her seat in order to use the lavatory, or perhaps to perform yoga in the aisle (yes it happens, and yes I know someone who does it, but I’m not in the business of naming names). Regardless of the reason you wish to get up, do not under any circumstances even think about touching the seat in front of you. I know it’s there, I know it’s “cushy” looking, don’t touch it ever, period.

Now I realize that most Americans are overweight and don’t exercise (myself included), that said many people in the world don’t possess the coordination or the strength in their core muscles to stand up unassisted, and that’s okay…pathetic but okay. Skinny or fat, old or young, don’t touch the seat in front of you.

The proper method of exiting a seat on a commercial airliner is as follows:

1. Lean forward
2. Grab the armrests (if one is unavailable, substitute your own seat back or bottom cushion, or even the wall if you’re in a window seat)
3. Push up
4. Once standing, use your own row of seats if further assistance is needed (because the chances are good that you’ve either waited for them to get up already, or you’re waking them up regardless in the process of your yoga exodus. There is no sense in aggravating further passengers by using the seats in front of you.)

For the illiterate, here is a horribly photoshopped diagram:

I sincerely hope that this how-to has somehow enlightened those of you who may have been stupid inconsiderate enough to wake up, bother, or otherwise inconvenience the row in front of you.

Always lookin’ out,

Jason

Even after reading Jason’s so-so Quantum of Solace Review I had to go and see it. I agree with pretty much everything posted in both the review and the comments, and like everyone else thought it was worth seeing, but certainly not the greatest Bond film.

I’m not here to talk about the movie, I’m here to talk about the horrendous act that occurred following it. At the conclusion of this film, like many films before it, the audience began to applaud. This is absolutely unacceptable and should not be tolerated by society.

I have nothing against applause, when people are showing their approval or appreciation for a performance. Be it a speech, presentation, play, musical, or even simply to recognize someone’s outstanding behavior. What I have a problem with is the fact that when you go see a movie the performers aren’t present, they’re more than likely 1,000’s of miles away, completely unaware of your applause or even your existence.

Are these people applauding for the screen? Which did such an amazing job remaining on the wall for the entire movie? Perhaps they’re applauding for the projectionist who did such an exemplary job, even though  chances are she was doing her homework the whole time, was up there making out with the popcorn guy (or girl), or just plain fell asleep two hours ago? There is nobody there, don’t applaud! Just walk out of the theatre and start looking for the people who didn’t understand the movie, or sit in your seat and awkwardly watch the credits.

In summary: only applaud when the performer is actually present to experience the appreciation you’re expressing.

Un Saludo,

Juan Luis

Hey Bro! Yo Bro! Wassup Bro?

I must apologize for excessive use of the word “bro” in this post. Using bro this much in any other context would make me a bro, and that in and of itself sickens me. I just wanted you to know how hard this post was to write.

I recently had the displeasure of being acquainted with a couple of these characters and it reminded me how much I really hate them. You know the type: popped collar with the word FRAT on the back of it, taking themselves too seriously for their own good, making general douchebag comments like “NASTY” or “CHYEAHHHHH” (to pronounce that properly, think Mike Jones, but more douchebaggish).

Now I’m serious when I say I’m not typically an angry or hateful person (unless you use abbreviations, but that’s a different story), but I absolutely can not stand people like this. Here’s how you can tell if you or someone else you know is a bro:

1. Frequent/incessant use of the word BRO. (This is your easiest warning sign
2. Consistently hangs out with a guy to girl ratio of at least 3 to 1.
3. Frequent player of beer pong and/or flip cup.
4. Giving high-fives or fist bumps in inappropriate places.
5. Being serious about popping that god damn collar.
6. Uses chewing tobacco and makes sure you know it.
7. Hair styled like a moron (my personal favorite is the faux combover)
8. Always travels in packs (guy/girl ratio of 3 to 1 again).
9. Gets excited over really really dumb things like trips to Taco Bell or other “fine” dining establishments

Now I’d like to enlighten you about a little thing called Nicholas Alexander’s Law of Bros. The theory behind this is that bros tend to draw off each other’s energy and douche-essence, and that leads to more pronounced bro like behavior in groups.

“The probability of bro-like behavior is proportional to the square of potential bros in the area”

For the bros mathematically challenged, what this means is that each person has a basic probability to exhibit bro-like behavior, which varies in intensity depending on how many bros are in the area. Now for some people who are capable of thinking by themselves, this is a very low number. That’s awesome, keep it that way. Other bros factor into the equation like this: If two bros individually have x probability to exhibit bro-like behavior, putting them together will make them each four times as likely to exhibit bro-like behavior. Start adding more to the mix and you have yourself a good ol’ fashioned bro-fest (or maybe even a bromance).

Where X is the probability of someone exhibiting bro-like behavior as an individual and B is the number of people in a group capable of exhibiting bro-like tendencies. “Bro” in this equation represents the probability of any members of the group exhibiting bro-like behavior. It’s a science. Any bro-ologist will tell you this.

If you’re looking to test out how much of a bro you are, just surround yourself with other bros… I would never subject myself to such torture, but you can feel free to go ahead and try if you’re a cast member of jackass. What’s wrong with being a bro, bro? I don’t know, perhaps we should just leave you off in your own little bro-globe, bro-ing it up with all your bros soaring to new heights in the atbrosphere, making fun of the wannabros and brovercoming obstacles with your team of bros. You are more obnoxious than that sentence, and that’s what’s wrong with being a bro, bro.

At the end of the day, these people are absolute morons who can not look past the end of the beer pong table or the unsuspecting drunk slut at your neighborhood frat party to see what complete douche-nozzles they really are. We here at LTMB frown upon bros and all they stand for.

That’s just my opinion though.

Later bros,

Nicholas Alexander.

Friday night I went to see the new James Bond Movie: Quantum of Solace. I enjoyed it, but while walking out of the theatre I realized that there is something fundamentally wrong with this movie.

During the “golden days” of Bond, James was a talented spy who would take on multiple men at a time using slightly exaggerated gadgets, come out on top, and then have sex with one or two of his female co-stars. A bit outlandish? Sure, but not completely unrealistic as demonstrated in this 1964 trailer to Goldfinger starring Sean Connery:

The problem I have with the newest bond film, Quantum of Solace, isn’t that it was a bad flick, but rather that all of a sudden Bond magically has superhero skills. Unlike Superman, The Hulk, or even (my personal favorite) the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Bond has always been an everyday man, and I feel that’s how the character should remain. Even in the 2008 trailer for Quantum of Solace below, it can be seen that bond lives through things that would be impossible for any mere mortal to endure:

Bring back the old bond: the gadgets, the girls, and the cars; save the Superman survival abilities for someone else…you know, like SUPERMAN.

Entertained but Disappointed,
L’Monaco