BJ's Oktoberfest - A Final Destination Dinner

So this weekend was supposed to be the Great San Diego brewery trip of 2010, but that was postponed after David received an impromptu invitation to Oktoberfest. Not to let the weekend become a waste, I announced a brewery trip to local Eagle Rock in the valley. But come Sunday, I discovered they were closed in order to attend (along with 461 other breweries) the Great American Beer Fest in Colorado. Perhaps another time Eagle Rock

I settled for BJ's Restaurant (a microbrewery/pizza chain) located in Culver City with Nic R, AJ and David L. It is here where we encountered a malevolent force who's anger against beer glasses (AABG) was so powerful that it freed our beers twice from the frosty mugs, much to our dismay. Story after the picture. I started with a Jeremiah Red but switched my beer for the day to the Oktoberfest in the second round.

And by most popular they mean, 'one of their few' seasonal beers

The beer is slightly darker than the Hofbrau Oktoberfest and burned malts are prevalent. The biggest difference is that it's well-rounded. Yada yada, it's good. Drink it while you can. TRANSFORMERS rating.

So beer glass destruction happened. Was there a coincidence? Probably not, I'm not stupid. Shit happens. When it rains it pours. And other cliches. We were about 20 minutes into what some people call dinner but others call a baby screaming behind us incessantly (a.k.a. the best form of birth control), when David L picked up his beer in mid conversation. About 30 seconds later, the bottom inexplicably fell out and beer flowed like wine. We all had a good laugh at the absurd moment and our waiter Ryan took it to show the bartender because no one had seen this happen before. We guessed that there must have been a crack about an inch above the glass' bottom lip. It was a freak accident and certain we'd seen the last spill of the evening.

As we signed for the check, Ryan was taking our plates away when a knife slipped off and split my beer halfway down its side. Again, beer flowed like wine, adding insult to injury. But we both enjoyed a new beer and took it in stride. It was a Final Destination Dinner.

In a big P.S., I'm including the next statement for its inclusion into the annals of my life. In a Herculean test of moral strength, I declined a Pizookie (cookie pie topped with ice cream)...

I want to bury my face in your chocolate chip bosom

...in an effort to continue eating healthy/make up for the 3 steins of beer I drank Saturday during table building and the Texas Longhorn football game (which included a burger from In-And-Out).

If you don't know me well and are wondering why this is such a monumental moment, let me provide some context; my alter-ego is Popp'n Fresh the Pillsbury Doughboy (my writing alias found at the bottom); I also own this shirt:

And this one:

So it's a feat that has never happened before. Golf clap where you are please.