Posts Tagged With: beer

Food Massacre

Howdja like to wake up in the morning to a massacre? Well that’s what you can expect when you have two killer cats with outdoor access that live in Goddamn Hicksville!


There happens to be a lot of wildlife around here, and I’m not talking about the good kind of wildlife either, where there’s lots of alcohol, spit-swapping and bible-burning involved… or panty-sniffing… that I know about! 

I’m talking about animals. I live in the suburbs (which explains a lot of the crappy food I write about, by the way) and the only wildlife we have here are the birds and lizards and chickens and coyotes and… and… and donkeys and the people who ride ‘em! 


So I get to wake up and find the dead body parts of creatures my cats killed and see and blood splattered all over my kitchen, which is interesting because I wonder how those damn cats knew that’s where food was prepared in the first place?

Yep. My two adorable, sweet, fluffy, purry cats are murderers-in-the-night. I have woken up to bird and lizard pieces strewn about my floor countless times! I’m afraid to walk barefoot in my own home, just in case I step on something that needed to be cooked! Well, at least the bird parts, I’m not into lizards… unless they’re on a handbag.

Okay, okay, I don’t really mean that, I love all wildlife and it pains me to know that these poor, innocent creatures were subject to a serial killer! I mean, howdja like to wake up to sweet little Fluffy standing on your chest holding a serrated knife and exhaling bad breath in your face?! Remind you of an ex-lover maybe?

Food massacre, that’s what these Goddamn furry things are really into, not the belly-rubbing and chin-scratching that they’d have me believe! They’re blood-thirsty killers, and not only that, they wanna make me their accomplice by bringing the dead bodies into my house! I don’t want any part of it, and if it continues, I’m gonna have to call the Goddamn dumb cops! Oh yeah, right. Can you imagine how that’d go down? I mean, I know cops are stupid as hell but they’re not that stupid! Wait…

Anyway yeah, food massacre. Doesn’t sound good to me either but that’s what we got when I brought a big group of my hikers to Draught’s Pizza in Thousand Oaks. We had just finished a grueling 1.5 mile hike and walked into the joint like a mob and took over, which was a good thing since the place was half-empty. It was a Sunday after all, I’m sure all those wild Thousand Oaks residents must have had a helluva weekend and decided to stay in. 

I'll have the beer please

I’ll have the beer please

They had lots and lots of beer on tap, which made my group of mini alcoholics very happy, so that was good. But the pizza? Eww, bad. I ordered their gourmet thin crust Margarita pizza and the only thing that saved it was the fresh basil, everything else sucked. Their dough just didn’t taste good and they used tomato paste as pizza sauce so it was cloyingly sweet (plus the deep red color made me think of the blood splatter in my kitchen). Where’s the fresh sauce? Where’s the dense, chewy dough, where’s the dead animal? Well I can tell you it’s not here.

Our server, if that’s what you wanna call him, was stuffing his face instead of giving us food to stuff ours with, and I was almost jealous since he got to eat before we did. There’s nothing like watching your server eat on the line, wipe his grubby hands on his black uniform and then proceed to serve you your food. I wonder where else his hands were that night? Hmm, why’d I have to go there?

There was one saving grace about the place and that was the beer. I had a Pilsner and it was very cold and refreshing. Everyone was enjoying their beer too, so I guess that means they serve good beer. Plus, they have a lot of it, so if you’re into beer and don’t give a shit where you drink it, go here. And if you wanna see a food massacre go here… or come to my place.


398 N. Moorpark Rd.

Thousand Oaks, CA


Categories: Alcohol, Beer, Food, Humor, Pizza, Satire | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

How to be German… Drunk

Hey, wanna be a beer-swilling German (is there any other kind?) with an affection for country music?

Sure you do! I did! Or at least, for one night I did.

I never really wanted to be a German before because Germans are just so, well you know… German (boring). Plus, they eat a lot of meat and drink tons of beer and that’s just not me. Frankly, I find it incredible that they’re managing to hold the entire financial sector of the European Union together!

But I discovered that once you get a little beer into a German… why they’re the most witzig people you could ever have a jabber-jaw session with, so they’re always good for a laugh! And going to a German-style pub to drink is just as good as going to an Irish pub to drink, because you get good beer and you get good drunkards! And once they’re drunk, they become completely redselig! Boy, do they love to drink and talk, those Germans, and they love to bullshit too, which I can certainly relate to because I happen to bullshit quite often myself! In fact, they get so talkative, you can’t get them to shut the hell up until they’ve shoved so much beer down their own gullets, they pass out! And that takes a lot of beer. Remember, they’re professionals, not like us wimpy Americans who reach for a Budweiser and call it a day. That crap is not beer, my drunken little friends! You need to get yourself into a German pub to have real, authentic beer. The kind of beer that’ll make you schlitzaugen!

Wait, where did the handle go?!

Wait, where did the handle go?!

Personally, I’m not a drunkard. I don’t even like to get drunk! A little buzzed is okay, though. I know I write a lot about happy hours and drinks and all, but that’s me doing my job so that you, my friends, can enjoy the fruits of my labor! And believe me, this is laborious! Anyway, some friends invited me out the other night to go to a German pub to drink beer and watch a live band play country music and I thought “Really? There’s a German pub in the Connayo?… and they have live country music?! That’s strange.” But der stranger, der better I say, so off I went to Brats Brothers in Newbury Park to join my drunken friends!

I’m so glad I did too, because this is the real deal! No, I haven’t actually been to Germany before, but I’ve seen Oktoberfest celebrations portrayed on posters and calendars, so I know what I’m talking about! Inside, they have rows and rows of long tables and benches, which are specifically made for some serious drinking and eating, which is what you’re supposed to do in a German bar. All of the employees wear real German-style clothing too, which is really cool, and the service was kinda sloppy, so for sure this is authentic! Now I’m not trying to say that the Germans (or Americans posing as Germans) are sloppy at giving service… well, yes, I guess I am saying that, but that’s only because they have rows and rows of long tables and benches and everyone sits crowded together and everyone’s drinking really strong beer, so how are you supposed to keep up with who gets what? So I don’t hold it against them. In any case, the beer is really strong, so if you don’t want to get a buzz like I did, or completely drunk, like the rest of the place, then I don’t suggest going there because this isn’t gonna be Miller time!

They had what looked like a nice selection of beers and many that I’ve never heard of before. What’s really good is that on the menu, they post the percentage of alcohol next to the beer that you’re considering, so you’ll know exactly how wasted you’ll get ahead of time. Some of them claim a hefty 8 percent alcohol! I decided to try the Spaten lager, which is pronounced Shpaten, and that’s before you’ve even taken a sip! It came in this big, ice-cold mug with a big, thick handle, which tells me that if you’ve had a few, you’ll need one that big just to be able to put your greasy digits around it and haul it up to your slurring lips! The beer was good and tasty and had nice body to it without being too heavy. It was nicely balanced with a subtle floral taste and just the right amount of hoppy-ness to it. It wasn’t overly-carbonated either like some of the American hand-crafted beers, which is probably good since you’ll be drinking a few of ‘em.

I decided to only get one because I knew it had the kind of butt-kicker effect that’d make it impossible for me to walk in my spitzschuhe without stumbling, and even so, it gave me a good wallop upside my head! I decided that I would order one of their pretzels to help soak up some of the alcohol and take off the fuzzy edges. I don’t know if it was because it was the cheaper, happy hour pretzel, but it wasn’t good at all. The first one came out undercooked, so it was wet and doughy and not in the least appealing. I pointed it out to the German (American) waitress and she said she would get me another one, which turned out to be a mistake since the second one wasn’t much better. I expect German pretzels to be thick and dense, just like a beer Fräulein, but theirs are just small and chintzy. One of my drinking companions decided to order one of their Bratwurst, which would be a good idea if you’re into feeling really bloated. I asked him how it was and he said it was just alright and that he’d had better. But hey, he was Dutch and what the hell do the Dutch know about the Germans anyway?!

By the time the band started, the beer was flowing and our feet were stomping and we were having ourselves a grand ‘ol time! I highly suggest you get your arsch over there quickly and enjoy yourself some great beer in an authentic German setting to watch a great country band! Just take it easy on the beer if you’re planning on driving…

…or if you want to remember what you did the night before… and don’t want to do the walk of shame!

And don’t forget to tell them Frau schlau eigenschaften sent you!

Auf Wiedersehen my little drunkards!

Brats Brothers

2160 Newbury Road

Newbury Park, CA


Categories: Alcohol, Beer, Food, Humor, Satire | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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