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| - "An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk, to spend time with his fools."
-nest Hemingway
I should have sensed things were amiss, Molly Malone, when I noticed the first two letters of Mr. Hemingway's first name had fallen off your little sign, and you had not the respect to replace them. However, I shrugged this off as a little quirk, and tried to move on.
I just don't know about you. Initially, I was charmed. Your wallpaper and decor reminded me of a stuffy little old hotel I once stayed in, in San Francisco. Your fireplace emitted warmth, though I chose not to sit by it because warmth makes me grumpy. It'd be nice in -30 weather though. Your armchairs were cute, although Angelo is a jerk and tried to steal it from me. With photos of Samuel Beckett and James Joyce on your walls, we were off to a good start, for awhile.
But then, comes the awkward server with the personality of cardboard wearing... a kilt? Ew. And then, we were introduced to WEDNESDAY NIGHT KARAOKE. I have a bone to pick with whoever was singing last night, February 1st, at Molly Malone's, between the hours of 9:30 and 11:30 pm. YOU ARE AWFUL. LIKE, THE WORST. As in, had I not still half a beer (Molly Malone, your beer selection isn't amazing, ps) to drink, I would have up and left, abandoning my steak-sandwich-eating company. Britney Spears parodies and Karaoke hosts who make jokes about salty nuts? Not my thing. Completely destroys any vibes of class you may have previously emitted.
Plus you don't accept debit, with a $2.00 ATM charge. Really? The only reason I even came here was because Kensington Pub was too busy. WHY AREN'T THERE ANY PUBS WITH DECENT CRAFT BEERS ON TAP IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD?
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