Arby’s getting guerrilla in their weekend efforts locally? That seems like big news.

The fact that WGCL advertisers their weather personality with just her first name? Dagmar-tastic.

More photos and MySpace profile of the raven-tressed Canadian, if you’re so inclined.

In a comment on the first Coffee Circuit post, a reader pointed me at the Kirkwood coffee shop called Breukelen Mojo, which I hadn’t heard of before. This is, in short, why I dig the Metblog. Got a local coffee shop you love? Drop me a line in the comments so I can pay them a visit.

Breukelen Mojo (say it like “Brooklyn”) just turned one-year old this summer—an important milestone for an independent coffeehouse. Opened up by New York transplants eager to evoke the vibe of their cafe scene back home, the place seems focused not just on coffee but on local events. Area musicians and Thursday-night movie showings attract an evening crowd to the shop’s stage. If the main cafe space seems a little big for relatively few tables, I think that’s why: they use the room for event seating. Sunday mornings, I was told, locals enjoy classical guitar and coffee on their private patio.

I’ll admit, when I saw how small the coffee-drink menu here was, I worried. Simple menus, in my experience, often mean that a place is either a) doing the bare minimum necessary to be a coffeehouse, or b) looking to avoid the Starbucks syndrome of a sprawling overeager menu. That second option can be good or bad. It’s one thing to go for a basic, low-impact approach to the coffeehouse style, but it’s another thing to build a reactionary menu that cuts out the precious drinks that cafe dilettantes (like me) enjoy finding at local joints. Much to my relief, at Breukelen Mojo, they manage to pull off a relaxed, low-impact style without giving up on the fancy coffee drinks altogether.

The ladies I talked to at the shop, who were both super-friendly and smiley, told me they went out to Portland, Oregon, to attend barista classes before they opened up the shop. They wanted to do it right. Watching the barista put together a mixed-syrup concoction she called an Almond Joy, it’s easy to see. A multi-syrup cafe mocha has every reason to turn out heavy and thick, tasty but gut-punching with over-saturated sugary sweetness. Now don’t get me wrong, their Almond Joy isn’t airy—it’s still a mocha—but it was lighter and better composed than I could’ve expected. The barista didn’t dump syrups in a cup; she mixed and stirred and poured with an attention to detail that I look for outside of the morning rush. I appreciate that. Best of all, the thing was delicious from top to bottom, without that punishingly syrupy final quarter that’s the bane of so many mochas.

The nice folks over at Breukelen Mojo also pointed me at a couple of other Atlanta coffee and culture happenings I wasn’t aware of, so thanks for that. Don’t you be shy, either: if you’ve got a coffee shop you want me to check out and write about, drop us a comment on the site. I’m not doing formal reviews, obviously. I’m doing short profiles—I want to know what makes your shop what it is and why you were inspired to open it.

It probably isn’t fair to judge a new restaurant on its opening night.^[1] I’m sure The Grange doesn’t want me to do that and, honestly, I don’t think I want to do that to them. So let’s call this a first impression, with the understanding that we’ll meet again soon.

I found out The Angel was closing the hard way: I showed up and no one was there. The place was lights-out and empty. Uh-oh, I thought. Good news is, the place didn’t lay fallow for long. Better news is, The Grange kept pretty much everything that was good about The Angel’s space—the dark woods, the brick patio, the tile floor, and the little pub-nooks—and added just a bit of light, just a bit of air, to open it up and make it feel fresh.

On to the bad news. Saturday night, the joint was hopping, but tangled. The space between patio and bar was wandered by folks trying to figure out the seating situation, with no host and no list to help. I like wandering into a self-serve pub space, sure, but that night was just too busy for that. A tall man with keys on the end of a long spoon rushed around, apologizing for late dinners and calming frustrated customers. Beer was being brought in by the six-pack. They were in the weeds.

So let’s go back to some good news. Service was happy, attentive, and up-front. As soon as our waitress knew there was going to be a delay on our food, she let us know. Our appetizer showed up quick and hot.

Which brings us back to some bad news. The food on Saturday night was a bust. In an Irish pub, chips shouldn’t be skinny, limp, soggy things. What comes with them shouldn’t be a plastic Solo cup of blue-cheese dressing. Fish and chips shouldn’t consist of a single ragged piece of fish burned within an inch of edibility and more of those skinny fries. The shepherd’s pie was ordinary.

Word since Saturday, though, is better. The report I got says “Grange impressed” and “Good food.” Also, “Great hangout vibe,” which I sure agree with.

Friendly advice, Grange? Commit to the Irish vibe on your menu, nail those pub-favorite dishes, and add some distinctive dish that gives your place its own voice. In the meantime, I’ll keep my fingers crossed that The Grange stays busy enough to find its flow. The trick is giving a new place time to find its footing without, you know, just not going and accidentally running it out business, I guess.

Not to jinx it, but I’d be surprised if they can’t make it work there.

^{1. I’ve read that some restaurant critics give a new place three months to get their act together before they review the place. How long do you wait?}

Last night I got a chance to poke around the Decatur offices of Paste, the independent music-slash-entertainment-slash-culture magazine with the free sampler CDs stuck to its face. Those offices were less what I expected and more what I’d hoped for: rough and reclaimed concrete floors, exposed ceilings, lots of shelving lined with lush CD boxed sets and sample discs from hopeful bands, high-dynamic-range photos of folks like Michael McKean and Jane Lynch in the lobby. Stylish and functional, but meant to be seen. My experience with actual workspaces had me expecting something with shallow carpeting, cubicles, and a drop ceiling. I love being wrong.

Instead of cubicles, I saw wide wooden desks with schmancy chairs, set out facing each other, in a wide workspace, ripe for throwing around ideas and the wads of paper they’re written on. For sure, it felt more NewsRadio than The Office.

Taped to one shelf was a happy card, presumably culled from some happy package, that read something like, Here is Spain music. I hope you enjoy. Ultimately, that’s the thing that made me admire the joint: From the back issues to the CDs, the place seemed designed around the appreciation of people’s work. The picture of Thom Yorke on the wall says they’re proud of their work. The little card from Spain says the same thing. It’s about doing something worthy of other people’s joy.

Or maybe not. To be clear, I’m romanticizing somebody else’s job, as we do, and I know it. But the offices made it easy to do, and I hope it helps the folks at Paste romanticize their own jobs.

Ultimately, though, the big eye-opener for me wasn’t the Paste offices but a revelation I had at the Paste website: Paste’s digital edition. It’s the whole magazine, hyperlinked and free, online. The idea being, I guess, that the CD alone is worth the price of the mag so we get to have the rest for free. Or maybe it’s just the give-it-away-and-they’ll-pay-if-they-like-it Internet-marketing philosophy in action. Whatever. The magazine’s there for you if you want it.

If you’re like me, you buy it often at the newsstand and, knowing as you do how little newsstand sales actually help a magazine’s bottom line, you should just subscribe to the damn thing. So, actually, you know what? Hang on a second, I’m going to go subscribe right now… there. Done. I feel better.

I’m a migratory creature, a rootless caffeinéaste, a wandering beanophile. I go from coffee shop to coffee shop, sipping the wares and moving along again. I thought I’d found a place to settle down a few times, but every time I’ve been wrong. Before long, I’m off to another exotic island in the archipelago of java joints.

Without pretending that I’m a regular anywhere, that I have any true favorite coffee shop, I’ll pop in here every now and again to spotlight some coffee shops that I visit now and again, and to touch base with you, dear reader, to see what you like and where you’re getting face-time with joe. What are you drinking? And where?

Lately, I’ve been visiting a couple of San Fransisco Coffee joints here in town. The one on Highland, south of Ponce, is the one I usually hit. The new location, out in Candler Park, is staffed with happy baristas, but still has some new-building sealant-like smell that’s throwing me off. They both have talented bar staff and winning pastry cases, though, as you might expect if you’ve ever been in a San Francisco Coffee shop.

It used to be that San Francisco was my place for mochas. They make them with cinnamon over there—what some places call a Mexican mocha. They’re rich, almost too rich, and fantastic. But what’s got me schlepping back out to San Francisco lately is, of all things, the cranberry-oatmeal scone. Say what you will, but since I had one I’ve wanted ten more. I’ll just be minding my own business, sleeping in bed, when my mouth says, “Hey, wake up. Remember that oatmeal scone? Get us one of those for breakfast again.” And what can I do? I can’t talk back — it’s my mouth. I do what I’m told.

Sometime soon, I’m going to check out the new-ish Danneman’s Coffee, on the corner of Boulevard and Edgewood, where Javaology used to be. Been in there already? Do tell.

That weekend is here again: The Decatur Book Festival is upon us. Last year, my first year, I spent the whole thing hanging out around the tents and craftspeople on the square, where my wife was hawking wares, so I missed out on things like authors and readings and signings. This year we’re skipping the tent and I’m heading out to Decatur just for the authors.

>> Click to read more

This weekend, I ran out with friends to celebrate my thirtieth birthday at a couple of places where I’d like to spend more time. For whatever reason, my regular rut doesn’t include these venues, but it should. Or, more to the point, it would if I was smart.

>> Click to read about The Glenwood and the Highland Cigar Company

A post on the FAIL blog yesterday got me to thinking about whatever happened to Fox 5’s grape lady. Turns out she lives on, even if it’s someone masquerading as her in comments:

The “grape lady” in this video is in fact me. While I do not appreciate the comments of those finding my pain “laughable”, I do, to a degree, enjoy this extra bit of infamy online. While as crude as most of you are, you are also allowing me to live on forever in this online world.

And yes it hurt - alot.

Here’s the carnage.

You know how you don’t really appreciate something until it’s gone? Let’s not let it get that far.

Wordsmith’s Books, just off the square in Decatur, is a rare and wonderful thing: a lively local bookstore. I’ll admit, I don’t take advantage of having a store like it around, because I don’t get to spend as much money on books as I’d like. But seeing that we might lose our only Wordsmith’s Books—the only Wordsmith’s Books—has me wanting to make the place a part of my regular existence. I’m going to start tonight, and so can you. Help us out.

(I would’ve mentioned this earlier, but I just found out about it third-hand through the grapevine of area robot-makers. Seriously.)

Tonight, the store is hosting a reading, a musical performance, and a silent auction in an effort to raise enough money to keep the place in business. What’s being auctioned? Robots. Robots, people! How can you not want to get in on that?! These are handmade, locally crafted robots, each one (to the best of my knowledge) unique. Plus, local darlings, the Sealions, will be playing their music when Jack Pendarvis isn’t reading from his new novel, Awesome. Don’t let this opportunity slip by. Read more about this weekend’s Wordsmith’s-saving events at the Wordsmith’s blog.

More to the point, don’t let Wordsmith’s Books slip away. The place has a reputation in the book business—a rep from one of the country’s major publishers mentioned it to me as a great local bookstore, and he’d never been to Atlanta. Wordsmith’s is alive with signing and reading events, local poetry, and special events. If we let it get away then we will just be one more city that doesn’t cherish its independent and local booksellers. Instead, let’s be a city with a noteworthy one-of-a-kind bookshop. Let’s save Wordsmith’s.

One of the greatest shortcomings, so I’m told out here in the suburbs, of Atlanta is that you have to drive everywhere to do anything. Too much of a sprawl. Not a great downtown.

It’s just as true about the truly ex-urb nature of the OTP crowd as well. Folks have to get in a car.

Now the beltline is a good step to start attracting folks in-town and our own james has turned me around about using Marta more regularly (which would rate as “at all” for things not involving the airport of seeing the Braves, Hawks, Falcons or Thrashers) but what people really get moving for is Tennis.

Follow with me.

ALTA is purportedly the world’s largest member tennis organization, the largest recreational community tennis league in the world, says WikiPedia, though a citation is needed.

In any case, folks will drive to play tennis. They will come to tennis facilities in the city to play their matches. My folks, who live in Newnan (charitably an Atlanta suburb), play at least one or two matches at Bitsy Grant each season.

So with all the budgetary problems in the City of Atlanta why not just ask ALTA (or tell them) to pay more to use these public facilities? Why have a dark day when you can charge an incremental fee for those folks who don’t actually live in the city but use the facilities?

I’m not the first person to suggest that suburbanites like myself who work in the city contribute in some way financially (I’m not sure taxation is the right nomenclature here, but it’ll do) to support the infrastructure that benefits their lifestyle. It would make sense that if the city can’t keep up the facilities on their current base then they should either scrap the courts (which is overreaching), close on some days (the current plan) or figure out an alternative source of revenue to keep them open.

The one defining characteristic of Atlantans - at least all the ones I knew in the suburbs as a child and the ones I work with now as an adult - they ALL eventually play tennis for at least a season or two.

I’m no economist or pundit but it seems to me that if there’s an issue that would really get folks who normally don’t think about City of Atlanta problems (other than to complain about crime or congestion), tennis is your ticket (racket?) to think about their impact and role within the city itself and not just as an interloper.

But what do I know? I’m trying to solve a shortfall through tennis. I need my head examined.

Climb on your own soapbox in the comments and rail against suburbanites like me, the Mayor’s office or tennis. We don’t mind; we encourage it.

Our very own former Atlanta MetBlogs author atl_tony aka Tony Simon was hand chosen along with two dozen fellow area drummers to form the Falcons newest fan experience effort: the drum line.

I went out and listened to these guys hammer away this afternoon at GA Tech, and, although I have an existing affinity for drum lines, I gotta say they knocked me around. It was only their second time practicing but it was solid.

You may never get a chance to stand beside them as they thunder and clash away on their instruments up close and personal if you attend a game, but if you ask nicely, you might have an opportunity to sneak up on them at a practice and feel the thumping. As an aside for the women reading: practice is performed with a primarily shirts-off squad. I’m just sayin’.

The new drum line is the brain child of Roddy White (Falcons marketing) and Chris Moore (director of bands at GA Tech) who got an initial round of funding from the NFL for this game day improvement idea. Eric Miller coordinated membership, music arrangement, and more; no small task since this years talent was by invitation only.

Tony tells me “other professional football teams have drum lines, but they’re unsanctioned grass roots efforts. The Falcons will have the first fully official NFL ensemble with on field performances, seats in the stands, etc.”

So I’m biased: I love a drum line, and I happen to think Tony is a pretty great guy, so I’m obviously hoping they’ll rock the face of Falcons fans. In reality, I’ve been to exactly one Falcons game (a work function) so I probably won’t get to see them in action again.

It’s okay though, I had my fraction of an August afternoon with them and they were incredible.

3 quick hits:

1. Kangaroo Attacked the Zoo Keeper

It’s over pretty quickly and the zoo keeper got away w/ only some bruising.

2. Kool Korners is indeed closing

So says the indispensable Disposable Income blog. I’ll admit that, despite working nearby, I never ate a cuban sandwich there. :-(

3. Kid Rock Takes His Waffle House Very Seriously

Video of last year’s Kid Rock versus Waffle House fight.

Happy Tuesday

If Metblogs is a city, hub.metblogs is the playground. We kept hearing from people that one of their favorite parts of Metblogs was meeting and interacting with readers and writers from other parts of the world, as well as getting requests for more ways that readers could be involved besides just posting comments. We thought about this for a while and decided that with a network like this, a giant community area where folks from all over the world could hang out, post photos and videos, talk with each other, form groups, play games, send messages, and do about a million other things was probably a pretty fun idea. The Hub is that.

If you have any tech ideas or suggestions join this group and speak up. See you on hub.metblogs!

It may be my favorite book: David Simon’s Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets. This is the seminal text that fathered NBC’s 1990’s opus, Homicide: Life on the Street, and grand-fathered HBO’s masterpiece, The Wire. One of the standout characters of the book became one of the standout characters on network TV. He was Andre Braugher’s Frank Pembleton, a central Homicide detective with a terrific, even classic look. He wore a fedora.

Not long after I first moved down here, I saw a homicide detective on the local evening news. It’s a city, people kill each other. What caught my attention was his hat. Then I forgot about it. Later, I saw another homicide detective with another, similar hat that also caught my eye. At least two of Atlanta’s murder police wear fedoras. That struck me as old-fashioned, respectable, and classy.

Jamie Gumbrecht’s article on police fedoras in the AJC reveals that it’s more than just a fashion choice by a couple of individual cops. “In the early 1990s,” Gumbrecht writes, “it became less fashion statement, more symbol. Solve a case, earn a hat.” As the article points out, it’s not a trend but a tradition, and Atlanta’s homicide unit is tapping into that tradition for symbolic power.

It’s a great little article about culture and style: Read “Respect the Hat: Fedoras more than fashion for Atlanta homicide detectives,” and check out the article’s gallery of the hat squad.

Today’s example (seen during my morning commute): Commercial Refrigeration Gasket Replacement Company Inspector Gasket versus DIC’s animated syndicated superhero Inspector Gadget.

Inspector Gasket:

Inspector Gadget:

Have an example of local appropriation of a licensed character, trademark or copyright? Suggest a story or leave a comment.