Last night I met my friend Andrew out for drinks and to watch the Wild game at O’Gara’s. It’s a nice old place, with lots of character, so much so you can almost hear the carousing and drunken mick fights echoing from the walls. The bartenders were great. Jill, even bartended in Ireland for a few years; that’s the holy fucking grail of bartending! Both knew how to pour a Guinness properly, one even poured it with a shamrock on it. This may not seem like a great feat, but there was one bar I went to where my Guinness was all head, and although normally I like a lot of head, this bad pour earned the bartender a “LEARN HOW TO POUR GUINNESS CORRECTLY” in his tip line.
Unfortunately, they hid their chicken all the way at the bottom of their nachos. An appetizer shouldn’t be like a goddamn easter egg hunt. This was outweighed by their offering of candy in the bathroom. Thanks O’Gara’s, for helping my breath smell cinnamon-y fresh and not at all like booze! However, they had advertising on the bathroom door. Now, I work in advertising, BUT when I’m going to the bathroom, I want to be left alone. Instead, I was forced to look at a obese pasty white man, nipping out because he was doing a polar bear swim to support some affliction or special cause. Like most women, I do the hover method on public toilets because I’m paranoid of STD’s lurking on the toilet seat. Looking at this flaccid, hairy beast of a man with nipples large enough for a baby to suckle upon, I almost lost my balance, which could’ve meant bad news bears.
So far, there had been two positives and two negatives for this bar. I felt the only way to tip the scales was to bring home a new glass for my collection of pilfered bar glasses. A tear almost came to my eye when I saw this Widmer’s “hops and hoops” glass. It may just be my favorite acquisition!