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Apparently this is a landmark -- the former dwelling of folks looking for cheap breakfasts at all hours, often to battle impending or incumbent hangovers.

According to a Seattle Times article, "A city board stunned developers, preservationists and Ballard residents Wednesday by voting 6-3 to designate the boarded-up Denny's Restaurant at Northwest Market Street and 15th Avenue Northwest a landmark — based largely on the visual punch the structure's Googie-esque roofline delivers to passing motorists."

Property owner Benaroya Companies acquired the site in 2006 for more than $12 million and intended to sell it to a condominium developer. Now they're screwed because the city board rejected its own staff's recommendation and proclaimed the old Denny's a landmark because of the building is "an easily identifiable visual feature of its neighborhood" and contributes to the identity of Ballard.

A local historian told the Times, "Ballardites proudly called it the Taj Mahal of Ballard."

I'm a Ballardite. I call it the shitty Denny's on the corner, but whatever.

in

I do love barista babes. God bless all of them. Heck, Katrine's even made a career out of being a barista babe. Despite my affections, I have never stopped for coffee because of the girl working in the window... until today.

I woke up this morning and brewed a large pot of coffee and drank a cup before Matt insisted that we swing by McDonald's to pick up some breakfast sandwiches. After picking up the food, we drove across the strip mall parking lot and past a small coffee stand. Both our heads turned like owls as we caught sight of a Stunning Blonde handing coffee out of the drive-thru window. Like a siren of caffeine, she lured us.

"I need to make a stop for coffee," I said in knee-jerk reaction.

"Um... yeah... uh huh," Matt replied, unable to remember English.

I pulled a Starsky and Hutch u-turn and headed toward the small stand bearing a sign that said "Coffee Cave."

With a car ahead of us in line, Matt and I reaffirmed how neither of us wanted coffee. We looked at the menu. Nothing stood out. We had a hot pot of coffee waiting back at home. Even though I had to select something from the menu, I knew that all I was really paying for was attention.

We pulled up to the window and were greeted by Stunning Blonde, who may have been 18 or 28 years old. I'd recap the following interaction if I could remember any of it, but all I really remember though is Matt fidgeting for paper to write down my phone number to pass to Stunning Blonde and my small talk with her, which went something the lines of:

"Hi guys, what can I get you?" she asks.

"Hey, how you doin'? A small mocha would be great," I reply, while slapping Matt's hand as he writes caveman symbols for numerals.

"Whipped cream on me?" is what I hear, but she actually asks, "Would you like whipped cream?"

To both questions I answer, "Yes."

Three dollars and an unnecessary mocha later, I demonstrated terrible game but was completely satisfied to have stopped to see Stunning Blonde. For some girls, often barista babes, the time and money wasted is totally worth it.