<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6867156167291354615</id><updated>2011-08-01T17:34:05.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Strenuous Life</title><subtitle type='html'>A temporary home between homes.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6867156167291354615/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Luke Giordano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04258286883020713903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6867156167291354615.post-5925926824538493764</id><published>2010-02-23T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T20:56:52.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to beautiful Knoxville, Tennessee!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sgc231UoI/AAAAAAAAAAU/oSIrEEYtyzU/s1600-h/knoxville_skyline.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 422px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sgc231UoI/AAAAAAAAAAU/oSIrEEYtyzU/s400/knoxville_skyline.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441650667396878978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ahhh, Knoxville! Breathe in the fresh, crisp mountain air as it settles into your valley, trapped, like still water a raccoon died in. The city of Knoxville, Tennessee was founded in 1786 and named for the first Secretary of War of the United States, Henry Knox. According to all accounts, Knox himself died in 1806 after swallowing a chicken bone that punctured his intestines, but some say it is rumored that the chicken murdered him posthumously because the chicken had been disappointed by his weekend visit to the Secretary's namesake city, although this seems unlikely as chickens lack the capacity for spite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An early nickname for Knoxville was "The Marble City" because of the number of pink marble (it's not really marble) quarries active in the city and because the city's founder &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4SkCOvLv1I/AAAAAAAAAAc/TZMeI600YhQ/s1600-h/Jameswhiteforthouse2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 149px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4SkCOvLv1I/AAAAAAAAAAc/TZMeI600YhQ/s320/Jameswhiteforthouse2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441654607993093970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Crazy" James White had "lost his marbles," according to early locals. Perhaps they were in the quarries. Now we'll never know as they are most likely lost to history; also I made it up. Pictured right is the James White Fort House, where "Crazy Jimmy" would spend his days, playing with his marbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Tennessee was admitted into the Union in 1796, Knoxville served as its first capital for twenty-one years, when in 1817 it was moved to Murphreesboro. Presumably, this occurred when whoever was in charge of the state government looked out a window. Or maybe when the South Carolina and Georgia governors came to visit and they kept snickering when the Tennessee governor was showing them around and the South Carolina governor was like, "I do declare! May I ask you sir, have you ever been to Columbia? Why, it's a jewel of the south! Oh my goodness gracious! What in tarnation is that gold ball on a stick?! Oh my God, it's horrifying!" I bet he wore a white suit and had brown side-whiskers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4SmQbURttI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ba8aOjc2UBA/s1600-h/8496.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 261px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4SmQbURttI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ba8aOjc2UBA/s400/8496.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441657050911323858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;An artist's rendering of the governor of South Carolina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Early Knoxville was a small, quiet town with not much for the locals to do except spend their nights in run-down bars and taverns. Oh! how far this city has come. In fact, a visitor to the town remarked, astonished, that the city had seven taverns but no church. Even from the beginning, Knoxville was an affront to our Lord. He has since cursed this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, Knoxville holds a diverse population of 80% white people, some Mexican migrant workers, and a few black folks that the white people pretend they aren't terrified of. Still, there is much in Knoxville to see and do! Let's review, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sqy3eltWI/AAAAAAAAAAs/K8QGOuyGGx4/s1600-h/tc1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 165px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sqy3eltWI/AAAAAAAAAAs/K8QGOuyGGx4/s400/tc1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441662040632833378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is an aerial view of the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Turkey Creek Shopping Center&lt;/span&gt; located in West Knoxville. Turkey Creek is a loving tribute to the glories of capitalism. With hundreds of stores, shops, restaurants, and general places to put your money as far as the eye can see, Turkey Creek is giving Dubai a run for its money for the title of "The Whore of Babylon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sr4sCo9HI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cyE94LuYP6c/s1600-h/sunsphere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 365px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sr4sCo9HI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cyE94LuYP6c/s400/sunsphere.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441663240153658482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Sunsphere &lt;/span&gt;has been made fun of a lot -- even on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Simpsons&lt;/span&gt; -- but frankly, it deserves all the abuse it gets. It is an eyesore that should be toppled down to make room for something less ugly, like a gigantic rendering of Knoxville native Brad Renfro's corpse. It was built for the 1982 World's Fair and is a literal eyesore. And yes, I am using the word "literal" correctly. Staring at the Sunsphere for too long will create open, gaping sores where your eyeballs used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Ss5itXlEI/AAAAAAAAAA8/o1km_G1KMLk/s1600-h/birdview1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Ss5itXlEI/AAAAAAAAAA8/o1km_G1KMLk/s400/birdview1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441664354340017218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You know what? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The University of Tennessee&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;is actually a pretty good school and I can't make fun of it that much. What I can make fun of is that UT sports make up the entirety of the weak pulse that is keeping the soul of this city on life support. If the University did some hilarious prank like announcing it was disbanding the school's football program, there quite literally would be deaths. And not even accidental ones. Mouth-breathing sports fans would murder those responsible for assassinating any kind of meaning they had in their lives. For instance, look at these retards burn a mattress because their stupid douchey-looking football coach went to a school he liked better:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q0N1jKU9HHQ&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q0N1jKU9HHQ&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night a homeless man was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretty disappointed&lt;/span&gt; when he came back to his alleyway after a hard day's work of panhandling and scrounging and ... tramping? I don't know what they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Surz22sJI/AAAAAAAAABE/nDZs87kzqPU/s1600-h/thestrip-night.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Surz22sJI/AAAAAAAAABE/nDZs87kzqPU/s400/thestrip-night.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441666317448294546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Located near (or on, I don't know) UT's campus is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Strip&lt;/span&gt;. This is where all the college bars and nightclubs reside, I guess. Basically, this is where your daughter goes to drink under-aged and get felt up by some meathead douchebag with two different colored polo shirts on right on top of each other so he can take her back to his frat house to give her a thoroughly mediocre fucking with his half-flaccid whiskey dick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other sites and things to know about Knoxville. But I don't care about those things. Because I am tired and I don't feel like typing anymore. In summation, Knoxville is a lame city filled with lame people and I'm leaving AND ONLY COMING BACK DURING THE HOLIDAYS OR FOR A WEEK OR TWO EVERY THREE TO SIX MONTHS, DO YOU HEAR ME?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6867156167291354615-5925926824538493764?l=lukegiordano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/feeds/5925926824538493764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/2010/02/welcome-to-beautiful-knoxville.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6867156167291354615/posts/default/5925926824538493764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6867156167291354615/posts/default/5925926824538493764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/2010/02/welcome-to-beautiful-knoxville.html' title='Welcome to beautiful Knoxville, Tennessee!'/><author><name>Luke Giordano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04258286883020713903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8IRkKUyCp4g/S4Sgc231UoI/AAAAAAAAAAU/oSIrEEYtyzU/s72-c/knoxville_skyline.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6867156167291354615.post-7737516309413713632</id><published>2010-02-21T20:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T21:11:05.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alternative Methods of Response When Your Waiter Asks You a Question</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUESTION: Hi, how are you folks doing tonight?&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;We're ready to order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; (Silence).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER (child): &lt;/span&gt;BREADSTICKS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Iced tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Don't y'all still have that soup and salad that's unlimited?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Don't y'all still have that pasta bowl that's unlimited?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; Don't y'all still have them bread that's unlimited? That's what we want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; (while being assisted into their chair from their Rascal brand motorized scooter) I need Dr. Pepper ... and hurry ... there isn't much time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUESTION:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What can I get you folks to drink to start off with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;I already said iced tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Does Lasagna really cost $12? Can I get a half portion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; Oh, um. Could you come back to me? Um...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;(unintelligible whisper)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Could you just give me a glass full of piping hot alfredo sauce and could I just drink that? Maybe with some scoops of ice cream mixed in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; Wait, you guys don't have [insert name of obscure microbrew brand of beer]? Heh, I thought this was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER (child): &lt;/span&gt;CHACKLAK MIKSHAKE&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; Oh. One more minute. I'm sorry..&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWER:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;No, I don't want anything to drink. Because I'm creepy and weird and I will creep you out for the duration of my stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUESTION:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You folks all ready to dec--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; SOUP AND SALAD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Note: there is only one possible response at this point.)&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUESTION: You folks all ready to decide on what you'd like to eat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;I get the never-ending salad just by sitting here, right? I'll just have that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; Uhhh. Oh God. I'm sorry. Ummm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; How do you pronounce this? Tort--? Tortel...? Whatever, just give me this shit on the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; What? You don't carry veal? What are you, a bunch of faggots?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; (look of panic, turns menu open)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;If the three of us split an entree, do we all get salad with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER (child): &lt;/span&gt;(none, as crayons seem to be of suitable sustenance)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;What's good here? Hahaha, I say that to every server I have because I am funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; I'll have everything on the menu. No, seriously. I consume everything in my path, for I am called C'thulu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUESTION: Would you like cheese on your entree?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Look at me, I am making a joke about cheese and how I want a lot of it. Please feign laughter so I feel like I am connecting on a personal level with my servant &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; Please just grate the cheese into my mouth hole in between each bite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I need lots and lots of cheese to kill the healthy bland taste of salad from my mouth and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;Oh, um. I don't care. Do you? It doesn't matter. Okay. What? Just do whatever. It's fine. Do you want any? Okay. Um. No thanks. Wait. Could you put some on a plate for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUESTION: Can I get anything else for you folks right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;(makes glaring gesture from waiter to breadsticks and then back to waiter)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You never got me my fourth refill of bread oh they're right here sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER (child):&lt;/span&gt; (shakes lidded plastic cup in waiter's face like the rude little piece of shit they are)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER:&lt;/span&gt; My Rascal, please. I need a twenty minute head start to get loaded if I am to leave this place by sundown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANSWER: &lt;/span&gt;No sir and you can leave out the check because we don't need that. Hahaha, why aren't you laughing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6867156167291354615-7737516309413713632?l=lukegiordano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/feeds/7737516309413713632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/2010/02/alternative-methods-of-response-when.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6867156167291354615/posts/default/7737516309413713632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6867156167291354615/posts/default/7737516309413713632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lukegiordano.blogspot.com/2010/02/alternative-methods-of-response-when.html' title='Alternative Methods of Response When Your Waiter Asks You a Question'/><author><name>Luke Giordano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04258286883020713903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
