Sheets of paper stapled to street signs. "Millhouse Bar and Grill," or something along those lines. It's hard to read when you're trying to simultaneously operate a motor vehicle. With a buzz on. In the morning. These multi colored sheets of paper...they changed our lives.
Pretty sure it was a week night. Was it warm out? It had to be. It had to be. There's no way we've been here a whole year with out experiencing the Pittsburgh Millhouse Bar and Grill .
It's off the main drag. We were concerned. Walked down the street. Concern was rising. White shingled bar signs. White aluminum siding. Steel door on the side, on the corner of a residential street. Jesus Christ. Biggest dive in Blawnox, we're thinking. One drink bar...max. Just go there, to experience it, then try to get the hell out. We had to at least brave it for one night, to experience Blawnox in its entirety. We'd try not to get raped. Try. We thought we could catch whiffs of the cigarettes and sadness wafting through the door.
Little did we know, the pieces fit. (We've been drinking heavily and we're listening to Tool. It's Tool appreciation weekend. Posts upcoming, pending sobriety). Open the door, and...
Magic.
Like, newness. Like, flatscreens. Like karaoke on off nights. Like unnecessary cover bands that do not fit the venue whatsoever that somehow work. They had tile in the bathrooms, god dammit, and two types of soap. What is this, the four seasons? Yes. The four seasons of Blawnox. It's clean, it's fresh, and it's polished. It's where Jesus would drink if he lived in Blawnox. Someone put time and thought into this, like, "You know what, I don't JUST need a place where sad local drunks can hang out." The young, up and coming Blawnoxers can fit in as well. The sad local drunks are still welcome, cause it's not Blawnox with out the sad local drunks*. Is it too early to call it the cheers of Blawnox? Yes, probably cause no one knows our names.
Yet.
Now the nuts and bolts of it...
SPORTS VIEWING: 8/10
Large TVs, small crowds, good angles. Overall, a decent place to watch a game, as we've done on several occasions, whether it be football or hockey. You can get a seat, you see the game, and if you have to stand...you can still see the game. Three indoor tvs, one outdoor tv. When Pittsburgh plays, Pittsburgh is on. If you want to watch something that's not on here...go fuck yourself. If you want to watch the Heat play the 76ers...eat shit. Yes Slade, I'm talking to you.
FOOD: 0/10
None. Zero. We try. We ask. They neglect. We know they had/have a kitchen. Deep fryers lay fallow. While we've never ordered nor received food made on the premises, we've observed and witnessed local pizza joints delivering to patrons. But is it their food? No, thus the rating. This also opens the door for limitless questions about what will and will not fly. Is it bring your own food? If we show up with a sack of hamburgers from McD's, will they give a fuck? No, they'd probably like it cause we'd drink more. We're going to start showing up with buckets of KFC. "SHIIIIiiiiiT...you got a drUUUUUUUmstIIIIIIIIck?" If it's the millhouse bar and grill, where the hell is the grill? That/s false advertising. Which is horseshit. They told us that it was due to lack of demand that they shut down the kitchen. So we implore you all...anytime, you EVER enter, that you ask to see a menu and order a dozen Cajun wings like we do. If they offer a pizza menu to deliver, sadly look at the ground and say, "oh...nevermind."
BEER OPTIONS: 5/10
The selection is slightly above average for your typical bar, however, the prices are moderately above average for your typical bar. Decent selections, not so decent prices. The greatest difference is in top of the line beers; Guinness, Sam Seasonal, whatever unique beer is on tap. They're running $6 a pint for top of the line, a full dollar above what you can get elsewhere.
SIGNATURE: 10/10
Fireball and touchscreen games. Let me spin you a yarn. A yarn that includes a snap, impulsive decision that has rejuvenated the idea of shots in an unabashed beer man's life. As we sit at the bar, we peruse the numerous bottles of liquor and wine, and my friend says, "Fireball? What's that?"
Without missing a beat, I say, "It's the shot we're taking next." We laugh like I'm kidding. Then I order the shots. History is made. Somewhere, an angel gets its wings.
Allow me to digress. Fireball, according to the label, is "The Cinnamon Whiskey." I love cinnamon. I formerly loved whiskey. But I fully expected this shot to be like swallowing flaming old man semen, cause god knows when you're in Blawnox, old men are an omnipresent part of the equation. The shots came in little plastic shot glasses, I assumed because it was so terrible it would melt glass and they didn't want to ruin their shot glasses. I put it up to my lips, made sure I knew the exact location of the bathroom to deal with the copious amounts of vomit I was sure were forthcoming, and closed my eyes.
I can look you in the eyes and tell you with a straight face that Fireball the greatest product designed for human ingestion in the history of the universe. We're going to start petitioning leading medical professionals to definitively answer the question, "Should babies drink milk or Fireball?" It was like Goldschlager, but not as thick and syrupy, and with no burn afterwards. It's a clean finish. As a non shot drinker, it's an extremely clean finish. Dare I say, a so fresh and so clean, clean finish . It's like chewing big red, but getting wasted from doing it. To quote a friend (and by friend I mean movie), "My sweet dick, it's magic!"
Touch games tend to be free on big drinking nights. Favorites include Polar Bear Fishing, but really, we just like the game where we get to make a drunk MILF get naked while walking home due to our inabilities to manifest this situation in real life. The must do for any Blawnoxer who plays these games is to be sure to insert the high score as "Slade is Gay." Just trust us.
ATMOSPHERE: 10/10
As we alluded to earlier, it's all things to all people. It's for young folks. It's for old local drunks. Shit, it's for black dudes whose sons play hockey. That's the beauty of this bar. Whether you're in your prime, or you are an old man who comes into the bar with your wife and daughter to give your chiuaua sips from your drink and the drinks of strangers, you're welcome. You're family. And families share.
Dan Onorato's county assessment tax would call it the Millhouse...But we've come to know it as different name...
We call it...the THRILL HOUSE.
The Thrillhouse. Where you can share your beer with a dog at a bar.
*sad local drunks is not an editorial comment as authors would hope to include themselves in this category one day. On a good night. On a bad night, we're a step away from jail.
