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!

Introducing: New Feature!

A whole day with out a post? Mein Scott, Wagnarock!! What has been keeping you busy for nearly 36 hours?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

If you all are aware of the Seattle Metro area you probably know about AMC's Pacific Place 11 theater. It's on 6th and Pike, one block after the Metro Tunnel exit. On the very top floor of this haute couture mall you will find the theater. It boasts 11 screens on two floors, two concession stands, and outdated arcade machines.

Each theater is outfitted with a LED display above the door that says exactly when each screen is going to start the movie.

Which makes it inanely easy to theater skip(read: pay for one movie, stay for three on The Man). This is a blog to help you maximize the experience.

This is what I like to call....
Got A Day Off?
1. Wake up early enough to get a serious breakfast. You'll need it to keep up the energy before theater nachos and popcorn start looking like extra annexes on the pyramid.
2. Arrive at Pac Place 11 before noon. Make sure you have stocked your carry-all with an extra t-shirt, a sack lunch, and Sour Patch Kids.
3. Get tickets to a movie that most likely has been out for a few weeks or absolutely the biggest blockbuster that is out. Action, drama, most likely PG-13. This will ensure placement you on the top floor for your movie(s). The moneymakers get put in the ginormous screens flanking the second floor.
3a. The top floor is imperative. Upstairs concession stand doesn't open up till, I'm guessing, 5pm on weekdays. Less eyes are no eyes at a minimum wage job.
4. After purchasing your ticket make sure you're aware of the movies playing on the first floor. Spend a buck on Time Crisis 4 or something. This will help you decide bottom floor movies later.

Note: The aforementioned extra shirt is for if you think people are getting suspicious of your all-day movie bonanza, prepare yourself to switch up your wardrobe a little bit. Archie is here to help you too.

Enjoy. Tips for theater skips. Stay tuned for the next Got A Day Off?entry, and hopefully don't get theatrical blueballs. Thanks Urbby-D!

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.

precoffnitive: a little short

This is just an idea that popped into my head while I was reading this afternoon. Warning: It probably sucks.

I've just stepped outside of the second busiest branch of the ultimate worldwide coffee chain. I'm looking at all the people smiling and drinking their espressos or bottled water. Smoking their cigarettes or not and making unapproving faces at those that are. The one I'm talking about is at my 1030. Her expression right now can be best described as a pug that just simply is too good for her Iams puppy mix. She takes a cleansing pull off her triple tall caramel macchiato.

Two percent.

Damn it. The clouds of not so twenty five feet away from all public entrances is really starting to get to me. Scrounging for my Zippo with my left hand, my right goes to my breast pocket and I produce a Camel Filter. Click, flick and nick. There's a trio of skateboarders directly to my left. Let's call em 0345. Doubtful they've got a much more creative nickname for their little insane punk posse. The one wearing sunglasses takes 'em off and tries to get my attention. "Sir...?"

I've turned to him now. He's revealed glacier-fucking-blue eyes. Sorry, my mother read me Harlequin novels when I was staring at mobiles. Pack that with my whiskey habit and well you've got a unique descriptive to life. "Yeah Sunglasses?"
"Spare a smoke?"
"Bet I can call out what's in your Starbucks cup down to the flavored syrup. If I get it wrong you get a smoke. Cover up the check boxes too."
"What if you're right?"
"You get the receiving end of an inmate at the state pen. Dick."
"Alright," the kid is covering up the option boxes on the side of the cup, "you're a go."
"Grande nonfat white chocolate mocha. No added flavors."
The kid to the right of him looks at him and whispers, "Owned."
Sunglasses speaks up. "Not fucking fair. You heard me order."
I inhale a long hard drag on my cancer stick.
"Maybe, but I still win."

I'm not really sure where I got this ridiculous talent. It just happened along the lines. Probably when Starbucks took over the world millions of five dollar bills at once. I never really drank fancy coffee either. I was always three cups of drip for the morning, two cups of drip for the afternoon, and then half a fifth of Maker's at night. Eating whatever comes in between the cafe and the bar for dinner. Some people call it a gift. But those some people think I'm full blown psychic. Like I'm supposed to know how you're gonna die. Or if the next scratch and win ticket at the 7-11 counter is the winner. Nah. I just know whats in your cup. And it's really irritating when you're trying to read the paper. Or watching TV. Conan O'Brien's guest of the night takes a long pull of his coffee, says something that's apparently funny but it definitely wasn't a tall order. Judging by the audiences reaction of course. It's like you're trying to read about what Charles Barkley's politics are and all he's saying is in your head is two-percent-non-fat-orange-mocha-frappachino-extra-dry-foam-sweet-and-low-twist-of-lemon- with-nutmeg-shakes. Shit. And don't let Wolf Blitzer get started.

I warned you.

Mintz-Plasse gets maniacal

So I've landed the job. I got the message this morning that I'm going in for training Saturday evening. To prepare, I've been doing a lot of push ups, pull ups, brushing and flossing my teeth, in addition to rinsing with Listerine to ensure that I'm "The Man" for the (second place) job. I've also begun a dietary regimen of eggs and yogurt for breakfast, and basically variations on my amazing Siracha-infused Annie's Mac and Cheese for lunch/dinner.

Don't click on that link. It's "Annie's" mascot, Bernie, yes the rabbit. He has a MySpace page. There's Jack Johnson. There's even a link to an offsite blog, over at the official website annies.com. You can find it here.

I also found out today aside that bunnies are basically all Bunnicula, that Annie of aforementioned Annie's Pasta fame, actually created Smartfood Popcorn, basically the reason why white cheddar was invented.

OK, so there isn't a blog. It was a faulty link. My bad. Blame the bunny eating the cables. Blame Bernie.

And remember... the celery stalks at midnight. Man, I loved 2nd grade.

And now something completely different... Superbad. As a horror flick.

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."

Street Smart

Ludacris is giving the recognition he deserves.Here's a link to a site called Strange Maps who gives us a US map which has "ho-zones" for all those mentioned in the song "Area Codes". Featuring that man who boasted that he gets more ass than a toilet seat.



Hopefully Luda didn't catch any Two-Oh-Sickness while he was up here. It appears from a aerial view that he spread the East Coast like crabs. Which brings me to...

Yo mama's so nasty, she made Speed Stick slow down.



And just in case you didn't know that Snoop and Nate Doggs were from the Rollin' 20's Crips, Know Gangs has that information and so much more.

Just call me Jonathan Frakes

Because I just got shoved back to number 2 on The Bridge.



I checked up on the job that I applied for, and sure enough... I'm no Patrick Stewart. Who once was the number one pick for the job got beat out by someone unknown. Apparently prettier and most likely has more hair.

So I won't be working the shift I told everyone about that could possibly rocket myself up Ballard Avenue. I got beaten to the punch. During the phone call to the lady that gave me the interview she said something along the lines of, "But we'll be training you."

To lucks fate another server went ahead and put in a notice. An undisclosed time notice. As in it could be a day, it could be a week or three or a month. Wasn't the standard two weeks? Who does that? And who beat me to it?

I'll keep you posted. I wish I had whiskey.

Dangnabbit. Want some comedy? This is just about the only thing that brought a smile to my face aside from compulsive brushing and Listerine.

The Bastard of Barnes & Noble... or STFU

I really don't know who in Seattle hasn't been to the University Village Barnes & Noble. It's been around since I was thirteen or so, so easily over a decade it has stood. Proudly and easily the cornerstone when University Village turned from quaint shopping center of North Seattle where all you really needed was an Ernst Home and Lamonts, now it boasts big chain names and unnecessary symbols. And apparently the second busiest Starbucks in the entire world.

I heard you gasp.

A few years ago while unemployed I made a really awesome habit of hanging out at the second floor near where the old computer annex used to be. They tore down a few unnecessary shelves and added a bunch of big comfy chairs where, I suppose, people are supposed to preview books. This was where I read The Da Vinci Code in less than six hours one afternoon, and tore through House of Leaves in the span of three. Afternoons, that is.

Well now that I'm still unemployed (the tap and grill in Ballard hasn't called me yet) I decided to commemorate the event this afternoon by checking out what I could tear through in an afternoon.

Sufficiently caffeinated and armed with a $1.50 Metro card, I rode the 65 down to North Seattle's clock tower.

Making my way up to the second floor I failed at really getting into a Cormac McCarthy book, so I picked up Jeff Lindsay's latest Dexter in the Dark. I bought this book for someone for Christmas this year but never got around to reading it.

As I'm reading about sixty pages into it, there's a guy, a smelly guy, talking loudly trying to woo two art students not but five and a half feet away. They relocated when he got up to go smoke a cigarette.

One hundred forty five pages.
An Asian kid sits across from him and out of fucking nowhere - hey-you-look-like-you-want-to-talk-politics! Smelly and Asian guy start talking. Now excuse me. But if you're in a public commercial space that has books and you happen to be in a common area where people around you are either studying or reading, wouldn't you too adopt a library like mentality? Does Smelly?

Six pages and fifteen minutes later.
I look up at him. "Hey buddy?"
"Am I talking too loud?"
"Yes, but-"
"OK I'll stop."
I thought that would end it. Granted he did talk quieter. For about...
Two pages and ten minutes later,
I just stand up. "Was I still being too loud?"
Me: "Obviously. I think a cafe would be a better forum for your politics."
"I'm sorry-"

I really hope karma bits that guy hard on a bus. If he's reading some political science or art history book, I hope some obnoxious Juggalo sits right down next to him and blasts shitty music through his ear buds. I'd never wish that on anyone. Except for a few. You people know who they are if you know me.

Have fun making up that hour tonight guys.

Shammed again

Mavis Beacon just popped into my head. I was in an IM conversation about how much of a speed demon I am when it comes down to my WPM. And then I thought about the nice lady on the box that taught me how to type when I was a tyke. Hell, I don't think "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog" would have even have mattered to me if it wasn't for Beacon. So I was just going to make a quick little blog about Beacon, like "Quit freakin'..." when I stumbled across something totally harrowing.

Our beloved childhood friend Mavis Beacon doesn't exist. I'm not trusting bank tellers again.

2 Urns 1 Cup

Thirty minutes before the Van Gogh closed today, I gave up on the crosswords. That's the NYT syndicated in the PI and the NYT itself. I was totally bitch-slapped. Heading to the coffee bar to refill my last drip coffee, one urn bubbled and spat the bottom of the pot. Refusing to give up and not leaving without a full cup of coffee, I headed to the other... the "French Roast". Not quite the even close competitor to its superior neighbor the "Sumatra", always my first choice. I pushed down on The Thing. Groaning, it gave easy evidence that, this too, would be expelled of all its sweet delicious nectar in the next few moments. A few more presses. The cup almost full.

Few more. Sputter. Spat.

The cup almost teeming. The percolator gave its final hurrah, the last ounce or so splashing.

I let out a small cry of victory careful not making myself a spectacle. No throwing both arms up in victory or anything, but just enough to let the two people in the cafe that I was triumphant. I grabbed the coffee pot and set it behind the danish tray.

"All done, huh?" The blond behind the counter asked. Presumably rhetorically.

"Two urns, one stone," I smiled. "Hasta luego."

I don't think she got it. But I thought it was totally awesome.

Spacey-free

I know. Overload. Today has been pretty busy on this little blog, huh? First the overhaul on the template, the added videos to the right of ya, and this is my third blog of the day? Well, I just found someone that I just had to share with every single one of ya... which is probably a total of six. I know most of you don't share the same love of splatter flicks as I do, but I just wanted to point out that one of my all time favorite sites just happened to break a few stories that I wanted to bring to the masses. Of six.

Bloody-D broke a little story that perked my ears. One of my all time favorite horror films is a little known movie called Suspiria. Remake in the works? David Gordon Green? I am so there.

And now? And yes I know this is a lot to take in....

Zombie strippers. Thanks Jenna!



The Varsity Theatre on 14th Ave NE is hosting it on April 18th. Which is right next to my favorite place to get a Tanqueray and tonic.

Enough links. Enough blogs. Enough Spacey.

Googlenarock

Just like any of you I've googled myself. I've also go ogled people on a lazy Wednesday afternoon. But just to try to see how many other "wagnarocks" are out there. I know there's quite a few "wagnaroks", the original spelling of the handle. A few seconds ago I found this. Yeah it's in French. I don't understand French. Spanish I can manage to understand, but French? I strain my ears.

Look down. Further. Around seventh from the top.
"Non , c'est wagnarock"

WTF.

I took it all the way back to the beginning of the thread and found this.

Figures. The only type of medium that could inspire an amalgamation of the Nordic Apocalypse and some other word to become a namesake would be a couple of Frenchies that get their kicks out of a MMORPG and a Denny's employee. Looks like you can milk the cows too in Renaissance Kingdoms, that sounds like fun. Mining for milk.

On the topic of online namesakes, go back to the French forum. There's a moderator that goes by the handle of Kayser Sauze. Like my handle, close but not quite. Though the surname makes me want tequila, not Kevin Spacey.

Oh BTW, name another blog that can fit in two Kevin Spacey references in a week. Do it! I dare ya!

Confidential to Shannon: That last link was for you. I had a feeling you'd need some explanation. No hard feelings.

In other news: Roland Emmerich has a new movie out.

It's no surprise I'm a fan of the SLOG. I enjoy harping on my sister and getting the news. I read The Stranger at least three times during the week over and over and over. Reading the blog just kinda helps to quiet the times I don't have a marvelous book to keep in my back pocket.

Speaking of which Dean Koontz, whom I hate, wrote a new book which I'm currently reading as my form of counting sheep. It's not a "hey, look at me, I'm happily displaying my waste of thirty bucks on a hardcover" kind of public reading. It's called The Darkest Evening of the Year. It's about golden retrievers. And it's supposed to be scary? I can't wait for the sequel... When the Frisbee Comes Back.

Anyway, back to my point. I read the Slog to get my hyperlinks on. That's right I steal content for the few people for the moment that read this thing. I love you all. Really.

Which brings me to the news story of the day. Smoking gets hilarious.

Overqualified, a la Spacey

So, who's seen American Beauty? You know that movie that won Best Picture back in 1998 or 1999? Remember when Kevin Spacey first hits his midlife crisis, quits his job and then hits up the equivalent of Mickey D's and applies for a job?

"I believe you're a bit overqualified, sir."

I got that today.

Now, I didn't post on this earlier, but last Sunday, not two days ago, but a week ago...
-----------.

Yeah, well the old man at the Denny's I was toiling for is a real piece of work. I won't slander in a public forum, but if you want to hear my side of the story, you'll know where to find me by the week is over.

So I had my first interview at a nice little joint in my old neighborhood of Ballard. And I got the line with the manager staring over my resume.

"You're kind of overqualified."

Imagine the dumb grin that spread like Oleo (but not so fake) across my face.
I'll keep you all posted, and sorry for the lack of hyperlinks and jumps. I'm kind of watching Nip/Tuck right now.