Back in June, we reviewed a newer local restaurant, after a particularly shitty experience.
As usual, we social media'd the shit out of the blog post, from our HYM corporate social media sites that we frequent (Tinder, Adult Friend Finder, Redtube, facebook, etc.), and somebody from the restaurant commented! No lie, it was a very nice, thoughtful comment. He or she basically just apologized, said that's not how they roll, invited us back on their dime, and totally took ownership. Classy.
We were definitely gonna stop back anyway though, cause in typing up the initial review, I lurked their/there/they're facebook page, and they apparently serve oysters (!), and the wings looked awesome. Note that there is no way in hell I was going to expect them to pay for our meals.
So here we are, actually a month later, again on a Thursday night, after the live "Music in the Park" event, we were hungry, so we stopped into Bug Eyed Betty's. As we pulled in, the parking lot was PACKED, and I got so pissed that I immediately started re-sweating. The sweating subsided as I saw my friends, *** and *** hanging outside during halftime of their Thursday night trivia. We chatted for a few and headed inside to meet our food-fate.
Funny note, as an avid blog reader and booster of heckyeahman.org, and considering the previous review, when he saw us/me, *** exclaimed, "ARE THEY GONNA LET YOU BACK IN HERE!?" Heckyeahwoman was also worried about shitty-review retaliation. I did my time in a restaurant, I know how that works. So yeah, we were kinda nervous.
So how was the experience?
It started out on a sour note when I learned they were out of the oysters! GODDAMNIT I LOVE OYSTERS! Not to worry, a cold Oberon and Heckyeahwoman's sweet margarita raised our spirits right up. Since our (my) June moratorium on eating pizza expired, we (I) have been on a pizza binge, so yep, with Heckyeahwoman's blessing, we opted for the MEAT PIZZA, aptly named The Burly.
The pizza came out pretty quickly, and after the waitress set it down on the table, my first instinct was to ask where our pizza was, because all I saw was a big fucking pile of meat in the shape of a perfect, medium-sized circle.
So how did it taste?
The meat was great (Canadian bacon, sausage, pepperoni?, braised beef brisket, other meats I'm forgetting). HYW thought the brisket was dry, so I started picking pieces off and stuffing them into my piehole, and confirmed she mistakenly used "dry" in place of "delicious". With pizza, one thing I don't generally notice, unless it's done right, is a nicely crispy dough on the bottom, and this was that, bros.
Pizza was awesome.
Midway through our meal, a managerial-looking fellow popped by and asked how things were tasting. Our awesome was met with his awesome, and we finished up.
At the end of the night, the final tally, in terms of pizza slices, had me winning with 4, compared to my wife's 2.