The Wrigleyville Bar Project

With the name Saloon included in our moniker, one could surmise that we here at TMS like to drinky drinky. One that would make such an assumption would be correct, thereby throwing out the whole, 'when you you assume you make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me' bullshit. We're here to profile some of the local watering holes around Wrigley, so that you aren't the poor sap who gets dragged into going to the Cubby Bear before the game, wherein you are soon left wondering how your life spiraled out of control so quickly. Tommy Buzanis has pledged to help out with this column, as he is no stranger to the bottle, but you can rest assured that those promises are as empty as his shot glass. So here it is, another sporadically timed, mildly entertaining column that you can only find here at the TMS. Actually you can probably find lots of info on Wrigley bars in a much more concise and helpful format, but that's neither here nor there.


Today's Bar: Mullen's, 3527 N. Clark St.

Douchebag Factor (1-10, with 10 being this guy): 4

Who You'll See Here: Girls who are like 1/15 Irish but are like, 'totally into St. Patrick's Day', couples that you and your significant other muse that you 'could probably be friends with', guys with long sleeve button downs tucked into their jeans, white people.

What to order: steak quesadilla, fried mushrooms, loaded nachos, draft beer.

If you were to see a celebrity here, it would be: Dennis Leary, 'Bachelorette' rejects, Todd Walker.

Website: www.mullensbarandgrill.com/Wrigley.html

Summary: Mullen's is the redheaded stepchild of the Wrigleyville strip. The old schoolers bypass this place for stalwarts like the Cubby Bear and Murphy's Bleachers, while the trendy suckers wait in line at John Barleycorn and The Central. Mullen's, with it's gaudy green and yellow awning, sits there patiently, like a forlorn child seeking the approval from his father that he will never find. While seemingly never the first or second option, Mullen's always ends up being a good option.

Nothing here is going to knock your dick in the dirt or renew your lease on life, but on the other hand, there's something oddly comforting about the simplicity and plainness of it all. Like a baby to it's mother's teet. Bonus points for the blackboard outside of the entrance listing the daily specials. It seems that 9 times out of 10, even on game days, they have the best specials on the strip.

The space is fairly small, with a bar to your immediate right and high tables filling out the rest of the space. Securing a table is normally fairly easy, like Tommy Buzanis' mother. The TVs are plentiful without being overwhelming and there is a dartboard in the back if you're so inclined. What, the fucking Cubs game isn't good enough for you? Asshole. The service is workmanlike, the food is warm and the beer is cold. These are creature comforts not to be taken for granted in this post 9/11 society.

Kiss me Mullen's. I'm 1/15 Irish.

Thunder Matt Rating: 9 empty Old Style cans out of a 12 pack.