Bridesmaids no more.
We’ve been going to the Hibernian for nigh upon a year now. On Tuesday nights, Nial, the owner, runs a mean game of pub trivia and the fries are great. We like the trivia because it’s random and really hard and, frankly, the man has a hotttttt accent. Also, there is Guiness.
Accent and hotness aside, the pub boasts stiff competition. We consider ourselves pretty geekily-smart fuckers, but—until tonight—had never won. Often, we’d place second or third (that being the source of our believed brilliance), but never had we bested Everything sounds better with an accent or the Hi-Fi Titty Tractors for first place.
Tonight, though, was the night. He got away from the odd tropical geography questions and into American History and palindromes. Word puzzles and dead presidents, we can apparently do. We had a little trouble with Russian things beginning with ‘T’… but in the end we pulled it out. Go us.
And we got a $50 bar tab addition for the lot of it. Woo.