Make way for the G-O-D

Begin transmission from the Heavens:



This is God. Creator of everything. I'm pretty proud of things I've created. But know this my little lambs, there's nothing I love more than breakfast and simple games. This is where I got creative. I made these two things on this world so that not they would be used separately, no but that they would be used together. I bring you Tic-Tac Toast!



Go now and spread The Word of butter, Nutella and marmalade in the fashion of inexpensive entertainment! Ha ha! God made a funny! Spread!

Let the games of biblical proportions at the breakfast bar begin!

The "Why didn't I think of that?" Post of the Year

Some guys melded one of the most cherished breakfast items and one of America's most frightening condiments into one. Pancakes a la Cheez Whiz. Introducing: Batter Blaster.

I'm gonna pick up a can just for novelty's sake. I can't stand pancakes. Used to love them, then just stared at them for too long as a way of making money.

Yeeccch. But for those that are still interested after the news story... the official site.

Spitzer; Now in No-Fi!

It's all over the news today. New York must be in shock once more. Their great white knight, their gallant gov'nah, the amiable avatar of assuageness (seriously, I was looking for an A word for leadership and BAM! something close enough is the WOD) linked to a ritz prostitution ring tapped into by the FBI. It's all over the internet now and if you didn't know by now just go to The New York Times and I'm sure it'll be front page material for the next two days, and all related articles are probably two Kevin Bacon clicks away.

$3k per hour? That's some expensive... uh. Just wow.

Sorry Spitz. Hope you didn't get the drips. Try to make up with the lady so you can share some more time with the kids.

Assuage. Awesome.


"I'll take Portable Poontang for $1000, Alex."

Service. With a smile?

Okay.

I'll just divulge what I do. I'll just put it on the table as, I dare say, I put over medium eggs on plates. I'm a server at an outrageous family-orientated restaurant. I like to think I'm an honest-to-God bartender. I make good money for the store, considering I'm doling out pancakes and extra syrup. I figure if I'm going to blog, I might as well blog about my mundane, but maybe your entertainment.

Take a look at my job's latest ad campaign.

Last weekend I'm serving this two-top(I'm also going to have to publish a glossary for the lingo). This deuce is an older pair, I'm guessing mid fifties-early sixties. Denny's has place mats. Said place mats suggest that a "real breakfast isn't served with a spork."

Now check this. Mr. and Mrs. Matlock look up at me confusingly as their coffee arrives, "What's a spork?"

Fuck me running.

I bounced this story over to one of my favorite baristas and she suggested this.

You guys got served.