Posts Tagged ‘beer’

After downing some beer towers, Scott and I headed over to The Caboose. This was my feeble attempt to “bro it out.” I heard the place had some sexy, scantly clad waitresses. Ah, what the hell. Naked doesn’t really bother me as long as there’s cold, cheap beer. And that, they had. That night anyway, $5 pitchers. The place was huge. There was one section setup kind of like a sports bar with smaller pub style tables and lots of TVs along the walls, including bartop seating. There was a dance floor area. And I think the rest of the room was shorter tables, more of a traditional bar setup. There were pool tables. And I think dart boards. The problem was I started sneezing almost immediately after arriving, and finally had to bail halfway through our second pitcher.

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When I heard the old Knolla’s/Geno John’s/Papa Murphy’s reopened as a new pizza place, I knew I had to try it! Especially since it was the day before my birthday, and, well, what says “happy birthday” more than pizza and beer?

Buon Compleanno!

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Well, folks, marked another one off the bucket list. I went to the Midwest Beerfest this Saturday. Am I a beer connoisseur? Nope. Do I know what it means when someone says something is “hoppy?” No. Well, now I do. But I didn’t. Do I like wheat beers or IPAs or stouts? Who the hell knows.

But I did learn some stuff about beers, and I’ll present my favorite beer of the day. Mind you, it’s boring. But I loved it.

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Jeanette decided this blog was more stuffed than schwasted and we needed to remedy it. So on the most sacred of all days, 9/02/10, we headed to Quincy’s. Mostly to drink at will. But also to have a drink for the lameness that is 90210, especially Brandon Walsh. We spent the night drinking Bud Light draws on special (it was a Thursday), and had a Sex on the Beach shot, because that’s something lame B-Walsh would do on the beach. With a girl who’s maybe married, or crazy, or racist. You know, the typical types Brandon kisses. Badly.

Mmmmmm…. Beer!

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After a delicious dinner at El Mexico, Jeanette and I headed down (or would it be up? probably up) the street for drinks at Whiskey Dicks. I’ll admit I have wanted to go there for about a year, before it was Whiskey Dicks (when it was Old English Pub), so I’m amped that it’s my VERY FIRST bar review. My curiosity stemmed from knowing my great aunt and uncle used to own the building and run a grocery store in it. A few of my uncles even lived in the apartment over the store. Well, that’s when it was an apartment. I think it’s used for an office now. But I digress. We’re off to Whiskey Dicks. The good kind. Not the kind that ruins your night….. Hopefully.


What girl doesn’t want a little whiskey dick in her life? Oh, wait. Right…

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