Last night, the Husband and I were in the kitchen making happy home (quite literally, Sharkboy was adding icing to a cake and I was playing with the cat) when we’re startled by a head appearing in the back door window. I can’t see all that well out into the gloom but I can see it’s not the upstairs neighbour (who occasionally forgets where the hell he is – thumb to lips, tipsy bottle motion, crazy eyes…). The head in the doorway motions for me to open the door.

Not on your bloody life, my face must have said because seconds after that I was staring at a Metro cop badge through the window.

We let the two cops in and are told that on Saturday night, around 10ish, a man was kidnapped out in the back alley by “Jamaican accented guys with a silver gun”, pistol whipped, and driven to an ATM. When they only got $100 from him they started to beat him some more. At that point, he made his escape.

Did we see anything? No, we were in the front room watching TV. Can you spell your name, sir? That’s with an “e”, like “Jeff”, no relation. What is your work number? Uh… Notice any dark SUVs in the alley that night? No, but we did notice that there is lame, child like Bloods vs Crips graphitti that appeared on some walls back there in the last few days.

After the 20 questions, Sharkboy pipes up with possibly the most “Andy Griffith-esque” line I have ever heard in my life: “If you had come thirty minutes later, I could have offered you some cake!” he said, pointing to the half done bunt pan. They chuckle and say they would have taken him up on that. Always the charmer, my husband. At this point I’m forced to mention that one was hot. Like, “PLEASE EAT MY CAKE!” hot. We joke about police work-load and they leave, moving on to the apartment next door.

I think I got about 4 hours sleep last night.

I’m walking by the Golden Griddle at Church and Carlton and I look in to see a woman, face down on the floor, nearly under her table. Two waitrons are on either side of her, one on a cell phone, presumably calling 9-1-1.

I’m a horrible person!

See what you miss when you wander off the grid for a month?

PeeJunk (like it? I’m all street that way) is giving away stuff if you leave comments on specific posts on his blog! FREE! STUFF!

Go check out the rules at Photojunkie’s One Million Giveaway Extravaganza and start commenting on the “Million” categorized posts like a cheerleader with Tourettes. Here is the main “Million” category with all the eligible posts you can enter with.

I’m hoping he’ll be giving away all sorts of cool stuff like digital cameras he doesn’t use any more. Lets face it, anything is better than my Sony Cybershot DSC-1 (yeah. ONE) that is being held together by one screw.

Is there anything more curious than the Carlton Street Golden Griddle?

I have long since stopped asking myself “why” people eat there only to have the question morph into “How can people eat there?”

Have you ever walked by the front door?

It’s located 8 feet away from an underground parking garage vent. Mix car exhaust in with the kitchen’s grease trap (and whatever vagrant is around at the time) and you have the most unappealing smell ever. They should vent that into Kirstie Alley’s kitchen and watch the pounds fly off her! And hell, throw in the crazy people that eat there, as well as the wonderfully pleasant staff and you have a 4 star dining experience.

What other restaurants do you know of makes you scratch your head and wonder how they do it?