Chili's

After working for 13 hours on a Friday and getting home at 9pm... Sometimes, you just don't want to do jack shit except guzzle a gallon of party liquor and rail a 8 ball to get your groove back... And that's exactly what I did. I kept drankin' and opening different bottles of whiskey and was procrastinating big time on where to eat dinnah. By the time I checked the clock it was after 10pm and many places were breaking down the kitchen already... While I was breaking out the yey. This reduces my options to only a handful of joints in my hood because I didn't want to drive that far for some grub since I was kinda sauced up. Then my uncle called to ask me about some new BBQ joint on the westside and if I ever had the ribs there... That fat bastard fucking loves his ribs. I'm like no, tio, I haven't tried their ribs yet and then he starts singing softly... "I want my baby back baby back baby back ribs... Chili's baby back ribs... BBQ sauce." and click, that mofo hung up just like that. Now, that song will be stuck on repeat in my fat body for the rest of the night... Shit, come to think of it, I have never been to a Chili's. They didn't have that shit in NYC growing up... Do they even have them ITP? It's such a OTP kinda chain joint... Wait, there's one in Lindbergh but fuck that noise, I ain't going anywhere near Wet Willies on a friday night. Let me ask my cybernetic life partner... Alexa, is there a Chili's dump near me? Look in your underpants that whore replies... Touche touche you AI skank... I'm gonna give you a proper rogering later. Come to think of it, there's one in Toco Hills next to the Outback that's open late and not a slutty rainbow slushy frozen drink spot anywhere in sight but there's usually a bunch of little floozies in cheerleading rags licking on the head of their ice cream cones at Bruster's which is hidden in the woods behind Chili's... How fucking convenient. No wonder why their boyfriends bring them here- dense foliage, high skirts, gaudy lipstick, edible undies, dun and dunzo. Fuck, I can't believe I'm going to this joint, I have maintained to stay away for this long, I'm talking decades... But I will, no, I must go and report back for my one reader. And mostly because I'm buzzed off my ass and hungry as fuck right now.
Walked in for first time ever... Ok, this doesn't look that bad... If it was still 1988. Jesus, look at this place... I shoulda worn my acid washed jeans and tight roll those fuckers. It really does look like the commercials from the 90's and the waitresses... Woof. Sat at a booth, they got these tablets you can order from, how modern... I have no clue how to use these except to order drinks, out of all the things on this fucking gadget, I figure out how to get booze... Only if I could get booze out of a stone I would be set for life... But I'm not that lucky. Well, since I'm already here, let's just get it over with... Ooo, the cocktails are really cheap here... Fuck yeah, let's go...

Whiskey Ginger... For 3-fucking-$'s. C'mon, you can't twang your wang for cheaper... Just don't tell them you're Jewish, ok, fine. Speaking of cheap, I have no clue what kinda whiskey they were using but the server said, it's something like Mistor Bourbon.You can't even Google that shit, it's that exclusive or is that elusive... Who cares where it's from, for 3 clams, I'll drink it even if it had a beard on it... Hairy clam is back in style if y'all didn't know. Hey, sweetheart, bring me a cocktail every 10 minutes, if I pass out bring one out every 15 minutes, ok? I'm gonna get fucking lit tonight...

Triple Dipper. Fried pickles, chicken crispers, big mouth bites. This might be the biggest redneck sampler I have ever seen... It's like a buffet at a trailer park... And I'm totally digging it. It was so trashy, I friggin loved it... Totally fits the decor in here. I love how they don't even separate the slider buns, they just basically cooked one rectangular piece of ground beef and slapped it on there, you have to tear it apart like a savage in Deliverance... Squeal like a pig I say! They were nothing special, just plain old mini burgers. The fried pickles were pretty damn decent,though, did I just say that out loud? Fuck it, they were and the triple dipping sauces were not disgusting either, didn't find any nose hairs or flies in there, yay! The chicken tenders were crunchy as fuck but they were kinda dry because they were so skinny... Not terrible just pretty much as expected. This low rent deal-a-meal sampler was actually edible... Almost baffling.

Ultimate Smokehouse Combo. Sounds beefy doesn't it... It almost makes me wanna say "certified, beefified!" I did the $2 up charge for the half rack of house-smoked baby back ribs because that's what my fat bastard uncle would do... And I also wanted to see what all the fuss was about on their famous baby back baby back baby back ribs. This also came with the new smoked bone-In BBQ chicken breast, new jalapeño-cheddar smoked sausage new roasted street corn, homestyle fries, chile-garlic toast and house-made garlic dill pickles. Let's get right to the ribs... They are just covered with BBQ sauce. I get it, that's the only way to hide the reheating technique of the pre-fabbed ribs... Just open the vacuum packed bag, nuke it for a few seconds and toss it on the grill for a little charring and bathe it in sauce... "Certified, grillified!" The shit was so sweet and cloying that after six $3 cocktails didn't even cut through that HFCS wall. The meat was pretty tender though... But that's because it was prolly pre-boiled at the commissary. I have no clue why there's all the fuss about these riblets... It's basically a large bone-in McRib minus the bun. The chicken and sausage was pretty much plebeian spec. The street corn was actually pretty good and the fries were there as a plate filler to give it mass. For under $20, I guess it's worth trying at least once in this measly life. I don't know how they managed to sell this shit for as long as they have and make money doing it... Oh, wait, nevermind... I just remembered where I was. I blacked out for a minzie there. 

I'm glad to find out once and for all that I was missing absolutely nothing in my life with this place and the grub they're slinging... But I tell y'all what... Those fucking $3 cocktails could lure me back to the bar in here... Most likely with a skank that I picked up at Bruster's. C'mon, mama pouch taught me you gotta treat a lady pouchette right with a nice dinnah if you want some action Jackson afterwards... Then you can slay it six ways to Sunday in the foliage behind Bruster's. Now, that's a classy move right there... Eating here on a regular basis, not so much.