Froggy's - Westfield

Stopped in for a cold beer on this fine Monday! We were greeted by the friendliest bartender ever (Jody) we ended up staying longer than expected (hahaha damn beers) check this place out!

Something really makes me like this bar. Perhaps it is the people with no teeth, or possibly the guys rocking the mullet, maybe it's the people whom obviously got lost somewhere along the way and just stand out like a sore thumb OR just maybe it's the karaoke!!! Karaoke is Thurs Sat, and not many people go so like you can go up each round! That's always fun! They have some pretty good beers on tap, while it's not a huge selection, it has all I need (Magic Hat BBC Steel Rail). One pool table and a pinball machine, touch tunes (I don't know if it gives you the free play, because I am only there for karaoke).

For years this was my favorite place to go get trashed. cheap drinks, interesting folks and a stupid hillbilly fight at least once a weekend. kinda got sick of it though once the dumb college kids started flooding in after purple onion closed.

I awoke in a daze one Sunday morning, unsure of my own transgressions the night before. As I gathered my belongings and my thoughts, I saw a sign up ahead. Little did I know, that sign would change my life forever... The sign said Froggy 's but something told me it was much more than that. Hotel California began playing on the radio of my '88 Trans Am. The lyrics were all too prophetic. I had to stop for the night. The maître d ' opened the door. A quick slip of a $20 ensured my car would be treated with appropriate care. As I walked in to the main foyer my eyes scanned the room...and there she was. She was known only as Babbs (or The Babbs . She was a succubus incarnate. The wind cried of erotica. Her hair tickled her face much like the bare limbs of a dead maple. Despite my intrepidations, I approached her. I was immediately greeted by her smile. A smile most fitting for a dental school recruitment poster. Her beauty was matched only by her breath. Her breath carried the whisper of a cadavers queef. Her curves could barely be contained in her sweatpants. Had Michaelangelo ever decided to give his statue a David a female companion, this was surely it. I was in love. I reached into the bottom of my coin purse and was able to dig out enough to buy her a Bud Light. The twinkle in her lazy eye was all the thanks I needed. It would be the greatest $2.00 spent since a young man named Forrest purchased stock in an unknown fruit company named Apple. She consumed the drink within seconds just as she would later consume my manhood. The passionate love making that ensued in the parking lot in the reclined seat of my Trans Am could only be compared to unclogging a garbage disposal with a spoon. It was dangerous, at times painful, and ultimately resulted in food being sprayed everywhere and a phone call to a local plumber. As we embraced one another post conilingus we stared at the stars through my opened t-top. I knew our souls had joined as she used her one good tooth to remove the saran wrap from a package of Marlboro cigarettes. The opening was in some ways a metaphor for us opening our new lives together. In conclusion, the service was satisfactory, the decor was pleasant, and the atmosphere was friendly. They also have those small bags of chips for .50 cents.

I used to go here until I had a dispute with the manager. The best part about this place was the friendly waitresses. They also used to open up at 8am until this new manager took over. I agree with the last comment about fun karoake nights. Hampton Ponds people take a little time to get used to but are generally harmless drunks.