Life is a game of give and take.

It’s difficult to recognize pleasure without first experiencing pain. People everywhere (except Michigan) brave the highways each morning to drive to a jobs they hate, just so they can support their lifestyles and provide security for loved ones. Any guy who’s ever seen a Hugh Grant movie probably did it for the Hanj (or better) he assumed may follow said sacrifice.

And in the case of Milwaukee’s newest place of pizza pie purveyance, Crisp Pizzabar & Lounge, one of the area’s better and higher quality wood fire pizzas in Milwaukee comes with the attached toll of being housed within one of the most overtly douchebaggish restaurant concepts ever.

Having waited for Crisp to open for about four months, I was on that joint faster than an Usain Bolt bowel movement when it opened two weeks ago. Knowing that it was the type of place that merges all lowercase words together to establish a presumably sheik identity, I kind of knew what I was getting into in terms of location, decor clientele. But the one surprising element of Crisp was its cum-inducing blend of baked edibles that management modestly called “pizza.”

THE GOOD: Since the restaurant just opened and only had select menu items available, I opted for a slice from a pizza that was fresh out the oven. It was a decadent intermingling of roasted red peppers, sausage, spiced tomato sauce and both fresh mozzarella and goat cheese. Oh, the sweetness of the peppers! The zestiness of the Italian sausage and (almost spicy) sauce! The salty kiss of mozzarella and that bitter bitch, Goat Cheese once again stealing the show. I would honestly contemplate eating a Taco Bell shrimp taco if it meant I could get just another bite of this wondrous slice.

But the unsung hero was the soft, velvety, floury Jesus towel those ingredients perched upon. The MF crust. I mean, I never understood why middle schoolers would ever play that game where dudes circle jerk on a cracker and the last dude to brick has to eat it. But if they used Crisp’s crust instead of the cracker … I’m just saying it would make more sense to me.

Crisp also offers a shitload of toppings that aren’t always seen in pizzerias… things like egg, nuts, lamb, truffle oil and whatever the fuck arugula is.

THE BAD: Everything else. The location (an awesome bi-level bar in the heart of Brady Street) is completely wasted with wannabe hip interior decor. Lame ass house music and featured DJs thud backbeats and dramatic loops directly into the customer’s brain stem, instantly killing their ability to produce sperm. And the customer base is as follows: Yuppies on lunch, bottom of the barrel assclowns adorning Ed Hardy/Remetee shirts, losers who write for barely-read pizza review Web sites.

This place should probably gets its head out of its ass and realize it’s located in Milwaukee “we don’t have a professional hockey team, but I bet we’ll get a Jamba Juice soon” Wisconsin and not Paris, Milan, New York or anywhere else with at least a semblance of style. Plus the food is kind of expensive. Probably to fund the house DJ’s meth habit.

TRY: A slice. At $5 per, it’s pretty big and — factoring in the quality and amount of toppings — worth it. Otherwise the personal pizzas run $10 and the large za (choice of three toppings) is $20. Avoid everything else. Spicy Tomato Basil Bisque?!? What is this, somewhere remotely cultured? As if, Crisp.

RATING: The food is good enough to endure everything else about it.

Crisp, Milwaukee, T. Mario