Saturday, July 30, 2005
Hugh O'Neils, or The 'Burbs.
Leigh, poor girl, has moved out to the suburbs of Boston. While I understand why she did it (all for the sake of one absolutely cute golden lab who loves me because every time I come over, I bring food), I feel sorry for her all the same, primarily due to the grand question - what do you do out there?
I suppose that my hometown is technically a suburb of Los Angeles, but in reality, it's really it's own city, with proper nightlife, even if said nightlife consists mainly of pubs, mercifully alleviated by a wine bar where I spent a little too much time last summer.
Where Leigh's moved - well, that's really the suburbs. Complete with requisite suburbian nightlife, which leaves so much to be desired. But you know what, we were going to be daring! We were going to go out in the 'burbs and see exactly what it had to offer.
Our one prerequisite is that the place had to have a website, so that we could get a general idea of what we were getting ourselves into. After I ixnayed this horribly cheesy-looking club nearish her apartment, amongst many other places (including one bar that proudly advertised Smirnoff Ice!!! and Mike's Hard Lemonade!!! as part of their fine liquor offerings) we finally settled on this bar, which didn't look so terrible if you're into Irish pubs. And we made sure that it wasn't 18+, but rather 21+, as the former would be just too much to handle.
Oh.My.God. The only time I've been a drinking establishment worse than this one was when I was in Puerto Rico, and for some reason we went to this totally shady place that "all" the Americans went to in a shady part of town, which was full of skanky Americans. It was horrible.
This place, however, was just a train wreck.
I can't really do the scene justice. It was just a mishmosh of people who you don't ever want to talk to in bars. My favourite was the guy who systematically hit on EVERY SINGLE GIRL in the bar. Or was it the short balding mid-30s guy in glasses who was "dancing" to the cheesy 80s music? Maybe it was the (gosh, I hope she was) pregnant girl wearing a shirt that completely exposed her stomach. Could've been the guy obviously picking his wedgie at the bar, or the one wearing a too-tight polo shirt and too much cologne. Then there were of course, the skankily-dressed girls who'd grind with any guy, you can't forget them.
We were there for just under an hour, which was perhaps about 55 minutes too long. But, at least we can say that we did it, that we checked out the local digs, and I will never ever have to go back. Give me the city any day.
I suppose that my hometown is technically a suburb of Los Angeles, but in reality, it's really it's own city, with proper nightlife, even if said nightlife consists mainly of pubs, mercifully alleviated by a wine bar where I spent a little too much time last summer.
Where Leigh's moved - well, that's really the suburbs. Complete with requisite suburbian nightlife, which leaves so much to be desired. But you know what, we were going to be daring! We were going to go out in the 'burbs and see exactly what it had to offer.
Our one prerequisite is that the place had to have a website, so that we could get a general idea of what we were getting ourselves into. After I ixnayed this horribly cheesy-looking club nearish her apartment, amongst many other places (including one bar that proudly advertised Smirnoff Ice!!! and Mike's Hard Lemonade!!! as part of their fine liquor offerings) we finally settled on this bar, which didn't look so terrible if you're into Irish pubs. And we made sure that it wasn't 18+, but rather 21+, as the former would be just too much to handle.
Oh.My.God. The only time I've been a drinking establishment worse than this one was when I was in Puerto Rico, and for some reason we went to this totally shady place that "all" the Americans went to in a shady part of town, which was full of skanky Americans. It was horrible.
This place, however, was just a train wreck.
I can't really do the scene justice. It was just a mishmosh of people who you don't ever want to talk to in bars. My favourite was the guy who systematically hit on EVERY SINGLE GIRL in the bar. Or was it the short balding mid-30s guy in glasses who was "dancing" to the cheesy 80s music? Maybe it was the (gosh, I hope she was) pregnant girl wearing a shirt that completely exposed her stomach. Could've been the guy obviously picking his wedgie at the bar, or the one wearing a too-tight polo shirt and too much cologne. Then there were of course, the skankily-dressed girls who'd grind with any guy, you can't forget them.
We were there for just under an hour, which was perhaps about 55 minutes too long. But, at least we can say that we did it, that we checked out the local digs, and I will never ever have to go back. Give me the city any day.
Gloria 10:21 AM
3 Comments:
Gloria has no idea what she's talking about...Hugh O'Neils is a good time, you have to be able to carry conversation to talk to people though. Sorry Gloria, it sucks to be wrong.
no no gloria's right. i used to work across from that place. malden is scary. hugh o neils in the early evening can start to get scary. i never stayed for the nighttime, for fear of just the type of scene you just described! i know some of my former coworkers who lived in malden loved it, but im really a city girl. to be fair, i dont think i'd enjoy a nite out at any irish pub.
merri
merri
I've only ever gone later friday/ saturday nights, so I can't comment on the food, but I like it. It's fun. The dj's are not always the best, but they are pretty good with song requests. Drinks are reasonably priced. There's different kinds of people there, older/younger etc. Fun times
