So then what the fuck is your point about this guy? What the fuck is his behavior supposed prove? It sounds like he was a bad salesman who misjudged you...how does that support your point.

I still don’t know what the fuck jeans have to do with anything.

Apps and Zerts!

Nah, brah. It’s a column guiding you into not being a garbage customer at restaurants.

Is it not, though? I mean, it would take a lot for me not to leave my standard, “carry the decimal, multiply by two” tip. Like the waitron would have to get anti-Semitic at me or something. So the price of the meal I order really does determine the tip.

Just in case any jez readers don’t recognize the byline, Diana is basically one of the raddest women employed by gmg. Deadspin is lucky to have her there. 👍🏻

I dunno, seems to me people in all walks of life should not be calling each other “fucking faggots” or “cunts,” or using the word “gay” as an insult.

“I know plenty of servers who make a good living if they work at decent restaurants.”

Every single response told you to go fuck yourself. I love it.

I found the poster who’s never waited tables....

By the way, Barf was on the Space Winnebago, not a plane:

Delay delay delay; this is the only correct answer. The worst part about modern (economy) air travel is that you’re strapped into a cramped tube for hours as you’re thrown across the sky. Why would you want to make that even more hellish with the addition of everyone barfing? With no place to escape from the smell and…

My youngest daughter is a bit of a rule follower, which is fine, you do you, boo. However, she does sometimes start fussing when she thinks other people might not follow the rules perfectly. When she does, I ask her to recite our “rule on rules”, which she does in her sweet, lilting voice: “Don’t be a fucking prig, it…

I generally tip cash, I know too many restaurant/bar owners who are dickbags and I don’t trust them to give it all to the servers.

The movie you live in sounds terrible.

You seem so badass dude.  Tell me more about your how scared you are that you need to own a bunch of guns.

Apparently getting “Blazed for lunch” doesn’t involve supporting your teammates pizza chain.

The lyric is “Peaches come in a can,” not “Peaches came in by a man.”

You stick to your principles and I respect it.

Today alone you have claimed to live in California, Texas, and now Colorado.