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My boyfriend tells me that, like it says on the sign, Murph’s Bar is “a comfortable place to be.” He told me the place lived up to our mutual dream of a bar that isn’t loud or crowded, that has a lazy neighborhood feel while still maintaining an excellent beer selection. Many a time, he told me, he had split a quiet pitcher there with his housemates after work. But I have no idea what he was talking about. I’ve been to the place twice now, and both times the music was loud, they were out of my beers of choice, and burly men were yelling about sports. I want to believe in this neighborhood mecca, I do. I want to believe that a glass of Stella Artois on a subdued Saturday evening can be a reality, not just some crazy dream. But Murph, dear Murph, I am just not sure that your bar is a comfortable place to be.
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