Every day I become more like my father . . .

My friends and I went out for dinner the other night, and the waitress recommended a number of specials and items on the regular menu by telling us that each item was "really good." I found myself quite annoyed by this and tempted to point out to her that if she was going to apply the same adjective to everything, then it really didn't mean anything. Alan, I was of course reminded of all that "nice" and "light" wine we had in California. What stuck in my mind most, though, was that this is exactly the kind of thing my dad always complains about at restaurants. Though I am glad that I am still able to keep my mouth shut (at least until I get online and tell you all about it), I see myself in danger of becoming even more like my father.