Posts Tagged ‘restaurant’

Hops and Heat 2016

June 3, 2016

Do you like eating food that makes you sweat profusely and turn red? Do you like crying during your meal? Do you enjoy washing fuck your face spicy dishes down with freshly made IPA’s brewed by some of the most talented brewers in the world? If you answered “fuck yeah!” to any or all of those questions, then you are in luck. Hops and Heat 2016 is here and as a result your life is now complete.

Saturday June 11 at Churchill’s Pub and Grille is the third installment of Hops and Heat one of our three annual craft beer and craft food events. Chef AG Warfield and his staff of lunatics created this event after a day of binge drinking, chicken fighting and chili cooking. One of Chef Warfield’s flunkies made a chili with a shit ton of ghost peppers in it rendering it nearly inedible.

After a few too many pints by all, the young cook challenged Chef Warfield to eat a certain amount of his melt your flesh chili. Money was wagered and beers were poured. Chef Warfield crushed the chili in between sips from a fresh batch of Team Freeman Brewing’s latest IPA. The pain of the chili was excruciating to palate, but the deliciousness of the IPA made it briefly blissful. This bliss was immediately replaced with horrific pain. Chef Warfield won the money but might have lost the fight.

The next morning while still feeling the awful after effects of what he ate Chef Warfield was inspired. He wanted to bring that moment of bliss to you, the general drunken public. More than that bliss though he wished to inflict the blinding pain he felt on paying customers. Hence Hops and Heat was born. It’s the one day a year we can actually guarantee you will regret coming into the pub.

The beers will be some of the most hoppy IPA’s you have ever tasted, including a few the Churchill’s Pub and Grille staff was fortunate enough to help brew: Artifex “Sober in the Morning”, Mother Earth “Sinister Prime Minister” and Pizza Port Carlsbad “They Gon”. We will also be tapping in oldies but still very goodies like Russian River “Blind Pig” and “Pliny the Elder”.

Two of our full time favorites Societe “The Pupil” and Bear Republic “Churchill’s X” will also be on in addition to 35 of the best IPA’s you can get anywhere, ever all being poured alongside each other. From Bend, Oregon to Kalamazoo, Michigan we challenge breweries participating to produce their best IPAs and they gladly deliver. Several of the brewers will be in attendance on Saturday sharing pints and plates of spicy food.

The food is broken down in three categories: Bitten which is damn that’s hot, infected which is why am I doing this to myself? and the Undead which might kill you but if it does you will rise from the dead to roam the earth.

If you have ever eaten at Churchill’s then you know how tight our Chile Popper game is. Saturday a new height will be reached. How about a jalapeno stuffed with a ghost pepper stuffed with a Carolina Reaper, habanero cheese and bacon that’s then battered and deep fried? It’s the start of shark attack season so to help kick that off we will be serving mako shark seasoned with Caribbean Green spice topped with jalapeno slaw and habanero aioli on a ciabatta bun.

Then there’s The Devil’s Short Ribs. Beef short ribs prepared with Carolina Reapers and Ghost peppers with Tabasco mash and root vegetables topped with a chipotle chocolate sauce. The food isn’t just hot it is delicious. That is where we get you. You want to stop eating; you have to stop eating but you can’t because the flavor is just too good.

Hops and Heat 2016 is Saturday June 11 at Churchill’s Pub and Grille. Get ready for the best IPA’s paired with the tastiest, spiciest food you are going to find anywhere. You aren’t dealing with some over glorified line cooks here. We are professionals and take our heat very seriously. I look forward to watching you, the general drunken public burn and then ask for more. “Yes sir, here is that glass of milk you just offered to suck my dick for. That will be ten dollars.”

 

 

 

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Review Evolution

May 17, 2016

There is a four letter website out there that stands for everything that is wrong with social media. This website allows any asshole with a cell phone to spew hate filled reviews attacking people in the service industry because they are upset that there is no Amber Ale on tap. They seem to have no control over what slanderous rhetoric its users post. Anyone who has ever waited or bussed a table, tended bar, been a floor or general manager or worked the door as a security guard will tell you that 90% of what you read on this website is bullshit usually made up by a user under the influence of alcohol. I understand that speech is free in this country but personally attacking an employee of an establishment you patronize, while drunk and recently ejected, does not equate to freedom of speech in my mind.

I have so many negative reviews about me that it is impossible to count. I have been called both racist and sexist on this site. I have been accused of being a pathetic little man drunk with the power of running a restaurant on this site. I have been referred to as a shameless prick who inexcusably backs his staff on this site. One time some schmuck actually posted a picture of a dog taking a shit and had the nerve to compare me to the pile of dung on this site.

Mind you these nasty things have been written about me because I was just trying to do my job. When was the last time something that happened at your job got blasted out on the internet with the express purpose of making you look like a jackass? Think hard. For me it’s much easier to recall because it happens every several months. If you want to pull me aside and say these awful things to my face that’s fine. It most likely won’t end well but one way or another it will end. Don’t be a coward and run to your laptop or tablet and blatantly make shit up that threatens my livelihood. Once it goes up on this site it is there for the public to read and now not just one person thinks I am all these awful things but the entire world is encouraged to make the same rash judgement.

So, you say to me, “It’s just a silly little website. Nobody cares that much about what is written there. Readers are smart enough to decipher the legitimate reviews versus the bullshit ones.”  First of all, the people who use this site are not that smart. Trust me I deal with them on a daily basis. If they were in a spelling bee versus a stack of bricks I’m taking the bricks, big time. Second of all people do care. I have seen people cry after reading a nasty review that was written about them. I’ve met people in this industry who have lost their job because they got too many bad reviews most of which were bullshit. If people didn’t care what was written on this shitbag site then certain restaurants wouldn’t discount customers who write five star reviews about them.

I have been in or around the restaurant business for 20 plus years and have been in the craft beer industry the last ten and what I have found is that people in this industry care about what they do, a lot. This is a career not some summer job motherfucker and every day I go to work I try to be better than I was the day before. When things don’t go well I lose sleep or drink to excess usually both. When my teammates have a bad day I feel it, because I care about them too. We work long hours on our feet trying extremely hard to provide our patrons with stellar product and service.

To do all that and then have some punk ass permanently stoned college hipster or some Quaalude popping soccer mom who have never waited a table in their life tell the internet that I suck at my job is something I am no longer able to just sit here and take. In fact, a very good friend of mine and I are going to open a restaurant for all these expert reviewers of a business they have never been employed in and it’s going to be called “Go Fuck Yourself” (patent pending). That way when they don’t like how things go down in our house they can reference the sign on the front door.

Service industry people unite. They want to write about us then let’s write about them. There is a website called GULPU.com™ coming to you soon. It’s our site to talk about how awful they are. For now, get stress off your chest with us at https://www.facebook.com/GULPU/

That way the next time some redneck with dip spit dribbling down his chin tries to fight you because you wouldn’t serve his pregnant girlfriend alcohol the real story will be heard too. Oh yeah, I almost forgot “Fuck Yelp”.

Holiday Winter Storm

January 16, 2014

Every year a certain local restaurant has their annual holiday party, and every year they end up at the pub, and every year they treat our staff, our customers and the pub itself with zero respect. It is like feeding time at the raptor cage from the moment they stumble up until the moment they get thrown out. This restaurant shall remain nameless due to the fact that I have the utmost respect for seventy-five percent of their staff who are all important members of the craft beer community. It was that fact that made me hesitate even writing this but the level of douchebaggery the other twenty-five percent displayed this year was far too egregious for me to stay silent.

It’s 4 pm on a Monday afternoon. Our happy hour regulars are settling in to their stools discussing the day’s events over a nice frosty pint of ale. The door opens and in walks a guy with a hat representing the restaurant he works at. He walks to the far side of the bar and sits down. The bartender approaches him to offer him a beer. He mentions where he works and says that he is meeting a party in upwards of 50 people here to celebrate their holiday party.

I know what you are thinking, 50 people on a quiet Monday afternoon that will be a great boon for business, and you’re right. However, most people who are part of a party of 50 have enough brain power to call ahead days in advance and I would be happy with even an hour’s heads up. Then you think about this particular group and realize that they work at a restaurant, allegedly. Here’s an idea, pull your fancy diamond bedazzled smart phone out of your ass and apply it to your ear so whatever restaurant you plan on destroying has a chance to make sure the level of ass kicking is a manageable one.

If I’d known that a bunch of drunk restaurant employees were approaching my bar I would have had a dark corner prepared to herd them into so my regular customers wouldn’t have to be bothered with their idiocy. I would have gladly set up a cage on the far side of our patio where they could yell and punch each other in the balls all to their hearts’ desire. When you add in that these people have been at their work drinking free high in alcohol beers all afternoon you understand how potentially damaging this group could be. Who ends a holiday party at 4 in the afternoon on a Monday and releases their shit faced employees like a roving Jager-stinking fifty person zombie apocalypse upon the local community? That doesn’t sound like responsible serving to me.

The regulars were shocked by the sudden influx of younger people. They were intrigued for less than a minute and all motioned to close their tabs out immediately. I would have done the same as I wouldn’t want to get bumped by drunken 22 year olds who are fighting each other to get a drink faster. We went four deep at the bar which is fun but getting string ordered by people who work in the bar industry is frustrating and annoying.

Once the initial rush mellowed we were able to start letting this screaming band of bar amateurs know that they needed to chill the fuck out and start treating this place with a sense of respect. They would listen for a few minutes and then start freaking out uncontrollably again. Things really started going downhill when I found a bottle of spiced Jager sitting over by the pool table. First of all if you are going to sneak liquor into a bar make it some real shit not some water downed bitchafied version of Jager.

Second of all, now people are going to start getting kicked out. I found the first one lying on the ground in front of the pub. This was at about 630. I kicked him in his ribs and he shook to life. He claimed he was waiting on a ride. I told him to leave the property. When he argued I asked him if people were allowed to lie on the ground in front of his restaurant. He shook his head no and stumbled his way down towards Denny’s. An hour and a half later a girl showed up with a baby looking for him.

The second one was already on watch for puffing on her e-cigarette inside even after being warned twice not to do so. As she took a seat at the bar she saw a plate of food. After blurting out that while she didn’t know whose food it was she was going to eat it anyway, she  proceeded to eat it anyway. When I pulled her out she was in tears saying how embarrassed she was and rightly so. I asked her to leave and when she argued I asked her if at her restaurant they allowed customers to randomly eat off other customers’ plates. She looked at me and stuttered out a tear and snot soaked yes.

The third one was most likely the oldest member of the staff left and seemed to be in some sort of management role with the restaurant. When I had first discovered the Jager bottle he had assumed the responsibility of gaining control of the crowd and helping us make sure his people didn’t do anything else stupid. That plan was a bust due to the fact that he might have been one of the more intoxicated people there more so than most of the kids who were ten years younger than him.

He had mentioned something about getting everyone to move to the bowling alley since my staff and I made it clear that is was in everyone’s best interest that they move along. An hour later he said they were going to go bowling. When I looked around and saw that was not the case I referenced about how lucky the bowling alley staff would be to get to serve him and his staff. He then told me to “not be an asshole” and that was the end of his evening and any evenings he ever thought he would be welcome back because he is most certainly not welcome.

At the end of this month it will be our Holiday party and the entire staff including myself will be letting loose and having a hot God damn good time. There will be crying, vomiting and spousal abandonment.  Our debauchery will be behind closed doors where the only people getting offended will be ourselves. One word of advice to any bar or restaurant who is planning a holiday party sometime in the near to distant future and that is open bar at your place and make sure there is no way to get out so that any staff- wide insanity does nothing to bother the rest of humanity.

BUY MY BOOK LOVE LIFE BY CLICKING ON THE LOVE LIFE LINK UP AND TO THE RIGHT FROM HERE!

10 Server Commandments

May 3, 2013

The service you get when you go out to eat dinner a lot of times can make or break your experience. No matter how good the food is if I repeatedly get bad service from the same place I will stop going. Bad service creates an uncomfortable ambiance and can be insulting. In the service industry your livelihood is the gratuity you receive for your service and you have to earn it every day.

Granted as someone who works in the industry you would expect me to be a very hard man to please and at times I can be. But if you ask anyone who currently works as a server they will all agree their fellow service industry employees are usually the best tippers. I believe in tip karma and in order to maintain balance in our strange world I always take care of my brethren. When I get bad service I tip twenty percent. When I get good service I am most likely going to help make your night and quite possibly your weekend.

In order to consistently make twenty percent as a server there are ten basic rules to follow to keep your customer fat, drunk and generous. When I say basic I am not saying being a server is easy because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Being a server is like having to run over hot coals for four to six hours straight while screaming customers jab your sides with javelins. When things go wrong servers usually get blamed by the customer, the kitchen and their manager so on a nightly basis there are multiple people to please.

That being said these basic rules I am about to lay out are easy enough that a blind monkey with one arm could execute them. That is why when a seemingly normal human cannot follow the ten basic commandments of being an efficient and successful server it is very frustrating. To be in the presence of blatant ignorance and stupidity angers me to no end especially when the person portraying these traits expects me to give them money for their services.

So to all you servers out there who can’t figure out why you average six percent in tips I give you the Ten Server Commandments:

Rule One:  Act like you like your job. Now I know a lot of servers hate their jobs for various different reasons and that’s okay. People in every field of employment hate their jobs. However, when the hatred you have for your job reaches a table of customers it is not okay. Part of being a good server is making your customer believe that there is no place in the world you would rather be and there is nothing you would rather be doing then serving them food. If you hate serving so much that you can’t fake it for intervals of less then a minute when dealing with my table it is time for you to choose a new career.

Rule Two:  Never, ever under any circumstance chew gum while serving me. The second I see you pop a bubble I will be asking for my check and leaving. I don’t know if there is something that makes me angrier than having someone taking my order as they noisily and rudely chew on gum like a cow chomping on grass.

Rule Three:  Do not camp at my table. It’s one thing to be friendly and engaging, it’s another to tell me your life story including how your baby daddy just left you again and that your second kid might have to go without for his birthday because the restaurant has been slow. I don’t care. Believe me. If I wanted to talk to someone as I ate I would have sat at the bar.

Rule Four: Be sober. I know this seems like common sense but you would be shocked at how many restaurant employees across the world show up shitfaced to work on a regular basis. If you reek like vodka red bull’s and shots of fireball and continually sway as you try to focus on how I want my burger cooked than I will most likely let your clueless manager who couldn’t manage their way out of a wet paper bag with scissors in their hands know that their employee is intoxicated and costing them business.

Rule Five: Write everything down. I don’t care if you have been waiting tables for your entire life and claim to be able to recite every order you have ever taken if you don’t have a pen and paper out I automatically assume that my order will be fucked up.

Rule Six: Always keep whatever beverage or beverages I have in front of me full. This might be the most important rule to me. Keeping me full of my beverage of choice keeps me happy and makes me more generous when the bill arrives.

Rule Seven: Never blame the kitchen. I hate it when after my food runs long or comes out wrong the first thing the sorry no account server says is, “Sorry, the kitchen’s been fucking up all day I don’t know what’s wrong with them.” This immediately says to me that you are terrible at your job because you just threw the person who works five times as hard as you and makes twenty times less money under the bus in hopes that your fuck up won’t affect your tip.

Rule Eight: Don’t disappear. Sometimes once food gets dropped a server will automatically assume that their guests who are eating are good to be left unattended to for a while. This is a mistake. Once I start eating that’s when I start needing help. As I eat I drink so please reference Rule Six. If my beer glass stays empty for over five minutes because you are out back smoking or talking to your girlfriend if and when you return to my table you will be entering into an extremely hostile situation.

Rule Nine: Don’t drop my check until I ask you to. Nothing says you want me to leave and fast more then giving me my check before I’ve asked for it. Just because I finished my eighth beer does not mean I am done for the evening. At the diner during breakfast fine no problem drop away, but during dinner service keep that check open and in your apron until I say differently.

Rule Ten: Don’t check the tip right in front of me. If I am still at my table and the only thing keeping you from getting off work is grabbing my check book so you can finish your checkout than by all means swipe it off my table. However, do not open the book in front of me so you can read the tip line on my credit card receipt or count the change I left you for the effort. This is offensive and bush league and the next time it happens to me I am taking my tip back.

If you are a server and you follow the Ten Server Commandments then myself and people like me who over tip on a regular basis out of fear of an invisible karmic force that rules our universe will not only tip you fat but we will also continue to come back.

That’s A Record

March 29, 2013

I recently received a letter from a certain four letter website that legally I am not allowed to name in this blog. I assumed it was another restraining order against me which would put my grand total up to seventeen. Upon opening it I was shocked to find out that it had nothing to do with legal rights at all. Instead it was a letter congratulating me on breaking the website’s all time record for most one star reviews in a six hour period.

At first I was highly offended and began to draw up a plan for revenge against each person who dared to say I was bad at my job. Sanity settled in shortly thereafter as I realized that the average IQ of people who write negative reviews on that slanderous four letter website is lower than that of a bag of dirt.

I received three prizes for my record setting performance. One was a free lifetime subscription to the four letter site I shall not name legally. Unfortunately since I would never set foot on such an asinine website I elected to donate that portion of my prize to the charity of my choice, “The Old Broken Down Stripper Home” located in Las Vegas, NV.

My second prize was a plaque with each review written in the blood of the human of my choice. Third was an audio version of each review read aloud by none other the President of the United States, Barack Obama. I know what you’re thinking how on earth could that be possible? Four negative reviews in 360 minutes, this guy must be the biggest schmuck in the world?

Anyone ignorant enough to say such a thing about such a fine author has obviously never experienced a Sunday Wing Night at the fine restaurant I work at. From 4pm to 10 pm I witness human beings who act like a pack of zombies who have stumbled across an elementary school at recess. Wing sauce and ranch dressing is splayed across the walls like blood from a gruesome murder scene.

Not everyone who comes through the door on a wing night is an animal. Only about thirty-four percent are. Of course that thirty-four percent is enough to drive a normally calm and quiet lad to the brink of murderous rage. They are entitled, rude, and disrespectful and swear that people who work at restaurants are complete morons.  What they don’t realize is that they are actually morons and if their own parents saw how they acted in public on wing night they would most likely commit suicide.

These four particular morons whose ridiculous personal attacks on me on social media will soon be displayed in one of their blood (guess which one) happened to all agree that I am unfit to perform my job. While obviously I dispute this ridiculous claim I will allow you, the general drunken public, to decide for yourselves.

The following is a timeline obtained from the Encinitas Police Department who were tailing me for an unrelated disturbance. These notes are from the afternoon of Sunday, March 10 2013 from the hours of 4pm (when wing night begins) and 10 pm (when wing night ends). The officer on duty gladly offered up his retelling of my interaction with all four of the swine who felt the need to shit talk me in a public forum:

4:01 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a young punk by the first fire pit. Apparently the punk has ordered a plate of wings and without eating even one asked for a to-go box. The restaurant manager explains that due to the ridiculously cheap price for wings that the special applies to dine-in customers only.

The young punk throws a fit claiming he ordered them with the intention of eating them there but he had suddenly and mysteriously lost his appetite. The restaurant manager laughs in his face, grabs him a box and tells him next week this won’t be allowed.

5:57 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a couple sat at a table by the front window. The girl who has just turned twenty-one claims there is no vodka in her vodka cranberry. The manager explains all his bartenders pour at least a shot and a half in all their mixed drinks. She argues. He offers her a free shot. She declines.

The restaurant manager brings her a free shot anyways. She begins to cry. The couple gets up to leave and despite consuming food and their drinks have done so without paying. In the middle of an extremely busy restaurant the restaurant manager has to chase the couple down in the parking lot to get payment all the while being belligerently belittled by this hysterically crying skank.

7:10 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a table of twenty-two year old stoners who are so high they can barely even complete a sentence. There are five empty plates of wings in front of the four of them. They claim that they only ordered four plates of wings yet are being charged for five. The restaurant manager points out that they ate all the wings.

The stoners refuse to pay for the wings they claim they didn’t order. There is a standoff. The restaurant manager begins to reach for his stainless steel bottle opener referred to by most as Excalibur, which it is assumed he plans to use to beat these dickbags about the head with. He thinks better of it and begrudgingly takes the wings off the bill. As they leave he informs them that he knows they ordered all five plates and that they were never welcome back.

9:35 PM: The restaurant manager approaches a table of college kids. He has been waved over by a twenty-three old blonde girl dressed like a whore. She doesn’t like her beer she ordered and wants to exchange it for something different. The restaurant manager points to the beer menu where it clearly states there are no refunds on beer and that he can get her something else but that she will be charged for both. She gasps. He asks if she would like another drink. She shakes her head no disgustedly and dismissively waves him off.

Twenty four minutes later the same future common street walker who didn’t like her beer approaches the restaurant manager as he is helping to break down the host stand. She tells him that he was rude and the way he treated her had ruined her night. She was embarrassed by their interaction and didn’t think he was equipped to handle a customer service position. She recommended he let the rest of the staff handle customers since he was such an asshole and that she would never be back. The restaurant manager gladly thanked her for that last fact.

I would like to personally thank Officer Jon Domino of the Encinitas PD for donating his notes so I could show you, the general drunken public, the kind of butt fuckery my staff and I have to deal with on a weekly basis. What I found shocking upon reflecting on my interactions with the angry reviewers who put my name in the record books was that any one of them knew how to read or write. It just goes to show what kind of low class element this wreck less four letter website that I legally can’t name empowers to be dicks.

Churchill’s Renaissance IV

March 1, 2013

March 2nd 2013 promises to be the greatest day in the history of beer. At 11 am tomorrow Churchill’s Renaissance IV, A New Hope, begins and this year’s installation will prove itself to be the greatest craft beer and food festival San Diego has ever seen. Now, for my money that means Churchill’s Renaissance IV will be the greatest craft beer and food festival in the history of the entire world.

This year’s Renaissance marks the ten year anniversary of publican Ivan Derezin’s hostile takeover of the pub. Under his watch it has transformed from a back alley rug munching swingers bar into the premier craft beer and food pub anywhere. To honor this momentous event Derezin and his staff have devoted themselves to making Churchill’s Renaissance IV the greatest party that you, the general drunken public, has ever had the pleasure of getting shit faced at.

Our draft lineup tomorrow is being hailed as the greatest assortment of craft beer ever offered anywhere. Certifiable Craft Beer Connoisseur Jordan Wilson has done a lot of things he will most likely live to regret to put together such a rare collection of beers. Two of the highlights of this year’s lineup are Bear Republic’s Churchill X IPA and Mother Earth’s Winsten Tenth Anniversary DIPA both of which are being released for the first time anywhere tomorrow.

Last year’s line began at 3:10 am Saturday morning, seven hours and fifty minutes before the pub even opened. As I write this it is 3:24 am Friday morning and this year’s line has already begun. I left the pub forty five minutes ago and saw the first Finest Hour fanatics huddled around fires heating up cold cans of cream of corn as they anxiously awaited Saturday morning to arrive.

These dedicated people will be awarded with not just first choice of the fine beer but also of the amazing craft food we will be offering that day. Mix Master Chef AG Warfield has done the impossible. He has crafted a food menu that rivals our amazing beer menu. When you taste one dish you will want to taste them all. I suggest you bring a belt with seventeen extra notches because once you start eating AGIII’s food you won’t ever want to stop.

Serving this amazing beer and food will be Churchill’s crack staff of craft experts who were voted Best Looking Restaurant Staff for 2012 in this year’s restaurant edition of Penthouse. We are all going to be working extremely hard on Renaissance and will all at one point either be on the verge of freaking out or actually freaking out. So please remember your manners and understand when 850 people show up at a pub all wanting the same thing drinks and food might take a little bit longer than usual to come out.

If you would really like to help us speed up service I highly recommend that you walk through our doors already knowing exactly what it is you want to drink. That means when you approach the bar do so with your first round ready to be ordered. When faced with a bar that is ten deep and a server ticket printer churning out 200 tickets a minute I have no time for you to try to think about what you are ordering. When I ask you what you want if you hesitate for even a half second I will be gone faster than I appeared.

People who are prepared and able to order four beers not by style and not by brewery but by the actual name of the beer will easily get everything they want all day long. Another suggestion is once you have ordered, instead of watching me weave in and out of my equally insanely busy bar mates please pull out your method of payment. Having your cash and credit card ready saves us all precious seconds and allows me to move on to the next customer craving my attention. Trust me your fellow drunk will thank you.

While this all may sound intimidating don’t fear because despite the massive crowd, overworked staff and the possibility of vomit around every corner Churchill’s Renaissance IV will be the most fun you’ve had since you lost your virginity. So get those tents ready because the madness has already begun and if you have any chance of getting a coveted pour off the last keg of 2012 Stone Bro in existence I suggest you get in line an hour ago.

Josh M., Las Vegas, NV. GULPU

July 28, 2012

For starters, as CEO of GuerillaDeSwine Productions I would like to personally thank you, the general drunken public, for an amazing turnout this past Sunday for the LOVE LIFE book release/signing party. We broke the record for most books sold at a pub in San Marcos, CA. ever. Special thanks are in order to Ivan Derezin for letting us host this tribute to local literature at the best craft beer pub in the world, Churchill’s Pub and Grille. Another special thanks are in order to the best band in all of San Diego, the Paragraphs for blessing us with one hell of an acoustic set. Big ups to Jesse Hofbauer, the head of the GuerillaDeSwine Productions music department for making such a special performance, happen.

The best part of the festivities was that it was all in the name of supporting local literature and celebrating National Buy A Book Day. Congratulations to Americans everywhere for returning their eyes to the written page. GuerillaDeSwine Productions has long been a proponent of people buying the wonderful books we sell and we encourage the country to continue to do so at a rapid pace.

The next GuerillaDeSwine Project on the horizon is the release of GULPU.com which we are proud to say is very close to being finished. Despite various attempts at government-sponsored sabotage GULPU.com is very real. So real in fact, I am pleased to publicly announce that it will be released Sunday, August 12th. Ever since we have introduced GULPU.com to you, the general drunken public, the offices at GuerillaDeSwine Productions have been overrun with letters and emails of various people’s reviews of customers or clients who have gone above and beyond to be flaming douchebags. Here is one of my favorites.

Josh M., Las Vegas, NV. GULPU

We originally started doing Tuesday wing night as an attempt to bring people into the restaurant mid week. Sure the wings were a wash at forty-nine cents a piece, but if every person who eats eight wings drinks one to two beers then the profits eventually add up. Most people do, which is why we still offer our mouth watering buffalo wings for so cheap. Unfortunately, our discounted delicious wings also attract people who should be 86ed from every restaurant they’ve ever step foot in.

They come dressed in tank tops, board shorts and flat brimmed baseball caps of teams they have never heard of. As they park mommy and daddy’s SUV in the handicap spot 10 little fucktards who have never bussed a table in their life slither out of the vehicle.

The hostess shudders when she sees them stumble through the door putting each other in headlocks as they do. They demand a table for ten and grow impatient when that’s not something we can accommodate due to the fact that every table in the restaurant is full.

Once their table is finally ready four to six more of them show up and just assume that they can add on extra chairs and tables as they see fit. When reminded that a restaurant isn’t their fucking  house they respond with an irrational succession of bro bombs best left to be ignored by an intelligent human being.

Instead of ordering a two dollar soda or a four dollar frosty beer of the week these kids sporting iced out watches, texting on their five hundred dollar phones and wearing designer sunglasses can’t seem to afford anything other than ice water. Not only that but each one of these ten people will require their waters to be refilled every five minutes.

It takes three of us to run their food. When we arrive at the table no one there seems to remember what it is they ordered leaving us standing around holding hot plates while these idiots discuss who got nine buffalo wings and who got eight barbecue wings.

After several minutes of playing wing sauce detective everyone has the food that they claimed they ordered. We ask if they are good and they respond with nods as they’ve already shoved their mouths full with wings as if it were their first meal since mommy and daddy dropped them off at college.

Midway through their meal and two of them claim we gave them the wrong wings. Of course this is after they have eaten half of them already. Inevitably they blame the server for messing up their order. I point out that five minutes ago not only did they not know what they ordered when they were asked if the plate in front of them was right they said yes.

We replace the wings, but honestly caving in to make these little shits happy makes me feel like keying “Hail To The Redskins” into the side of mommy and daddy’s SUV while they are busy rubbing their face in the giant stack of twenty wings which will only cost them ten dollars. Instead we nod and smile and check on them frequently throughout their meal as we do with every table.

Other then needing a refill on water and ranch they always say they are okay. We go through four to five gallons of ranch every Tuesday wing night and a large percentage of this ranch is going to this one table. They use so much ranch that you can no longer see the wing drowned in all that dressing. It’s to the point where we could charge people like this discounted ranch with a side of wings.

When the check comes they scoff at the amount and immediately demand that it be split. Splitting a check for ten people who can barely remember what the fuck they ate just five minutes before can be difficult and is always time consuming.

After finally figuring out who gets charged what there is always one or two of them who claim they are being charged for something they were never served. Again they blame the server even though when asked five to seven times if they were okay they never seemed to mention this mistake they were now so sure we had made.

Then these cheap little bastards have the nerve to leave my servers a penny because they were upset we wouldn’t let them order two hundred wings to go. The ones who can’t spare a penny leave nothing but a stack of gnawed wing bones and a pool of ranch dripping off the edge of their table. When these little schmucks die they will be waiting tables in hell and mommy and daddy won’t be there to ensure their hands steer clear of real work.

JOSH M., LAS VEGAS, NV. GULPU

If you like what you read above then we here at GuerillaDeSwine Productions suggest you sign up with your email here http://www.gulpu.com/

Our day is coming. August 12th experience review evolution, at GULPU.com.

P.S. BUY MY BOOK LOVE LIFE BY CLICKING THE LOVE LIFE LINK UP AND TO THE RIGHT

Great Balls of Ranch

May 5, 2012

I am going to create a shot that consists of Fireball whiskey and ranch dressing. I’m thinking about naming it the Great Balls of Ranch shot but am open to name suggestions. I know this recipe of salad dressing and cinnamon flavored whiskey sounds nasty, but believe me that it is exactly what the general drunken public wants. I know this due to the fact that every time I am waiting tables everyone is always asking for ranch even if their meal doesn’t traditionally call for it. Coincidentally whenever I am behind the bar and the topic of shots are brought up everyone immediately brings up Fireball.

I moved to Southern California several years ago and it didn’t take me long to realize that people out here will put ranch dressing on just about anything. Back east ranch was mostly just reserved for salads, but out here ranch seems to be a more popular condiment than ketchup. It seems like no matter what I serve there is always a constant need for ranch to accompany every dish.

At times I wonder if most people like the taste of ranch more than the food they are eating it with. When you douse something in ranch it is nearly impossible to taste anything other than the dressing itself. That then begs the question if people prefer ranch over the food they are dipping in it why don’t we cut out the middle man? Let’s start serving ranch in a bowl with small sides of food. You can toss the food in the bowl of ranch and then get your dressing fix by the spoonful.

Anyone who works at a restaurant knows how awkward it can be if you forget someone’s side of ranch when you drop off their food.  It will be the first thing they look for. When they discover it isn’t there the rest of the table will go quiet. They will try not to make eye contact with the person or with you. The person who was expecting the ranch will address you with a very serious tone of voice as they ask if they could get the ranch they ordered. They then will stare at you with an unwavering look that makes you feel like their life may depend on your answer. It’s as if the very thought that maybe there is no side of ranch because there is no ranch is enough to drive someone to the brink of a serious mental breakdown. Once you return with their side of ranch cooler heads always prevail and then everyone else at the table decides that they would like some ranch as well.

Fireball is a Cinnamon flavored whiskey that was created by our evil neighbors to the North, the Canadians. If that alone doesn’t make it lame then just repeat the words cinnamon flavored whiskey. Whiskey is not meant to be flavored. It is supposed to taste like whiskey. That’s why they call it that. People who drink whiskey do so because they like its natural flavor. If you want to add different flavors to something then grab a bottle of vodka.

I get that you don’t want to drink whiskey. That is a personal choice that has no affect on me. However, the second you start to try to justify to me that Fireball is real whiskey you begin to invade my personal space by insulting my intelligence. Nothing you can say will make it alright to drink Fireball so let’s stop there. If you order a shot of Fireball you might as well be shooting a blonde headed slut or a white gummy bear or a pussy fart or a Washington apple or some other mixed shot meant to taste like anything but alcohol.

This is why I have come up with The Great Balls of Ranch Shot (name subject to change) to please the portion of the general drunken public that would rather bathe themselves in ranch than normal bath water and who believe that whiskey isn’t good enough on it’s own. I am combining the two seemingly most popular items at bars and restaurants and plan on selling them for ten bucks a shot. I will make a killing. No one can resist the mixture of  the two things most people prefer to put in theirs mouths. So order another round of Great Balls of Ranch and be on the lookout for, “The Ranchsickle” (patent pending), the next best thing in dessert that will be out just in time for summer.

Tony D., East Vista, CA. GULPU

April 28, 2012

A husband and wife walk into the bar. He is a fifty year old wearing a Hawaiian shirt half buttoned and she is homely and half his age. She is pushing a stroller with their child inside it. Most bars aren’t kid friendly, but since our establishment is both a restaurant and a pub we encourage families to be comfortable there. In fact a lot of our regulars bring in their sweet, well-mannered and well-behaved children all the time and not only do we as employees embrace them but other customers do as well.

This is why when this man strolled up with his kid and his darts no one really thought much of it. He approaches the bar. After waiting less than a minute he grows impatient and begins waving his cash in the air. I walk over to him.

“Jack and Coke. And whatever she wants,” he says.

He points over his shoulder at the woman he walked in with who is frantically trying to find a safer place than a crowded dart room in a busy pub for her to store her child. As she does she dodges darts until she finally finds a safe corner for her kid and her to sit. She begins to order, but does so in what sounded like German. She spoke as if she expected me to understand her. I stopped her finally and began to respond in English. She held up her finger and waved it in my face before turning and calling for the man in the Hawaiian shirt. He was playing darts so it took a minute to get his attention. She waved him over. He leaned on the bar, annoyed.

“I said a Jack and Coke.”

“Right, what is she having?” I asked pointing at his wife.

He nodded.

“Vodka Tonic. Make it the cheap stuff.”

I made their drinks and by the time I returned he was back to playing darts. I placed the drinks in front of the foreigner and told her it was nine dollars. She stared blankly at me. I motioned money with my fingers and she finally got it pulling out a twenty. I gave her some change which she pocketed.

Then the crying began. It started out quietly and brief, but slowly transformed into the sound of a constant scream. It was the kid. I scanned the bar and received annoyed looks from my happy hour regulars. The screaming stopped but continued to ring in my ears for several seconds longer. The guy returns with an empty glass.

“I don’t think there was any whiskey in that drink so make this one a double,” he says as he waves his money in my face.

I pull out a glass and a shot glass. I measure the drink to exactly two ounces and top it off with coke. He pays without tipping.

“Do you guys have any snacks? She’s hungry,” he says as he nods to his mail order bride.

I slide him a menu. He slides it back.

“No, no, I meant like peanuts or crackers or something.”

“No we do not, sir.”

“What kind of restaurant is this?”

He goes back to playing darts. I serve some other people when out of the corner of my eye I see him standing halfway in the doorway to the kitchen. I rush over and find him harassing the kitchen staff for soup crackers which unfortunately they give to him. I inform the man he is not to be bothering the kitchen and he walks away without acknowledging me.

I return to the bar and see that his wife is dousing the soup crackers in Tabasco sauce and shoving them down her throat. The screaming begins again shortly after that. The mother tries to console the child but to no avail. The father keeps playing darts not even looking over at her or the child. He returns to the bar and orders another double. I inform him that it would be appreciated if he could get the kid to stop screaming. He shrugs me off and returns to the dart board again without leaving a tip.

The screaming stops and everyone sitting at the bar and those sitting in the section of tables to the left of the dartboard release a collective sigh of relief to be free from the piercing sound of an angry child. He orders another double without tipping. Five minutes later the screaming starts right back up. The mother has since given up and stares blankly off into space while the father never acknowledges either one of them.

This happened every Friday for a month straight. It was to the point that customers were complaining about the noise. Both parents had been warned every week, but finally it became too much to bare. I was forced to walk out from behind the bar, pull the man to the side and inform him that his five year old child was 86ed from the establishment. He looked shocked. He glanced over at his screaming child briefly before turning back to me.

“If they wait out front can I stay?”

After fighting off the urge to call Child Protective Services I sent the whole fucked up family packing and thankfully have not seen them since.

GULPU.com Launch Update

April 7, 2012

As CEO of GuerillaDeSwine Productions the parent company of GULPU.com I would like to personally thank everyone out there for being so patient in regards to the release of the GULPU website. I am pleased to say that we have finally found a web designer crazy enough to work with us. He nailed the swimsuit competition and completed the aquatic obstacle course in record time. Now that he has signed the contract he is under my control. He will be working twenty three hour days with a shit, shower, sleep and smoke break all rolled into his one hour of down time. This may sound extreme but our scientists here have found that people work harder when they are miserable.

What this means to you, the general public, is that GULPU.com will be up in no time so start getting your reviews ready. I recommend you organize your reviews from worst to best. That way the really big douchebags will be exposed as putrid individuals immediately. For example, if you come across a skankified college student who thinks it’s okay for twenty-two year olds to dump ranch and ketchup into a pint glass just so a busboy has to clean it up definitely post her review immediately in an effort to save a future busboy from extra work when he happens upon this frosty bitch.

That’s what GULPU.com is all about. We are here to help you help your fellow man. By calling out a customer who clearly has no clue what it means to be a respectful and contributing member of society they may read it and say, “you know what I am a raging bitch.” Sometimes this will work and sometimes it won’t but if it stops one fucktard from whistling at a bartender think what a great contribution you have just made to society.

The more people who read or leave reviews on GULPU.com the stronger we as working folk will become. Banding together against the evil tyranny that makes up seventy percent of the consumer public will form a bond no frat boy’s self-entitled attitude will ever be able to break. In order to strengthen our GULPU community as soon as possible it would be wise to begin to spread the word about GULPU.com to your family, friends, fuckmates, co-workers, as well as any random employee of all restaurants, bars, taverns, pubs, retail stores, video stores, call centers, any customer support or really any job or industry that has the word customer in its title that you may come in contact with.

We here at GuerillaDeSwine Productions appreciate your support and would like to reward our most loyal customers. In an effort to do so we will be offering a prize for the first twenty people to leave reviews on GULPU.com once the website is up and fully functional. That’s right; the first twenty people to post their precious words on our site will receive a rare gift package!

This gift package includes a GULPU LAUNCH tee-shirt signed by Mr. GuerillaDeSwine himself. (The signature is optional). There will only be twenty of these release tee-shirts and they will be cooler than the GULPU.com tee-shirts we will have available for purchase to the general public. In addition to these one-time only specialty tee-shirts GULPU.com’s first twenty participants will receive an invitation to the GULPU Website Release Pool Party where the invitees will get to meet and swim with the lead singer of The Paragraphs, the band that insanely popular local magazine Happy Endings called, “The most kick-ass band in North County.” In addition to getting to meet a local celebrity there will be good beer, stiff cocktails, tasty BBQ and all the cornhole you can handle.

So start documenting all the evil shit the people you serve have ever done to you and be a part of the GULPU community. Alert as many other people as possible about our future existence so that the inaugural release becomes a successful one. Our success helps you and anyone who has ever ended a double by sucking vomit out of a sink with a shopvac. Be one of the first twenty GULPU reviewers and receive the prize package of a lifetime. Most importantly remember that the next time a scumbag squeezes your ass then stiffs you because you asked him to leave GULPU is here to help you fight back.


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