Finnegan's Sports & Spirits

Finnegan's is yet another strip mall bar. The sign and name alone made it difficult for me to pass by. The sign is green and white in a typical Irish pub style complete with a shamrock. "How bad could it be?" I asked VodkaSoda, "Let's find out. Shall we?". Here's where mild hilarity ensues.
First of all it was a mistake to go to this place after front-loading at CB's for three hours; I know that in some way, showing up here with the smell of beer and smoke still fresh on my clothes from my favorite dive makes this review a bit less than impartial.
As is the case with most strip mall corner bars, this one is much bigger than it looks from outside. We walked through the door and as we looked for the source of the voice that was greeting us I realized I was shielding my eyes! Finnegan's must burn through enough electricity every night to power a AC/DC concert... No kidding, there's not a square inch of space that is not continuously being bleached out by at least a hundred watts.
Once our eyes adjusted to being on the surface of the sun we could see the bar had roughly fifteen patrons. It was a mixed group ranging from the backward cap wearing frat boys happily hucking darts and swilling Miller High Life, to the eight or so middle-aged shoe salesman types at the bar (one who was perusing a decade-old Sears catalog).
There is no draft beer. What kind of Irish pub has no freggin draft beer?! A glance at the cooler told me they had no bottled beer in which I would be interested (Mostly domestics and common imports, well, at least they have Guiness). Looks like I'll be having a cocktail.
I ask the bartender (not a HCWBMA, but young and cheerful) if they carry any of my normal brands of vodka. No. No. No. No. "Oh well, gimmie what you have". The drink was okay though it came in the type of bar glass I hate most, seriously, who would choose to drink out of these?
I ordered the second round and headed to the restroom. It was dentist office clean but kinda ghetto. Hmmmm What's that sticker say? No, really what does it say? There was no english mate for this obviously important information.
I returned to my bar stool to find shift change had occured in my absense. There were now two fresh female bartenders. These girls scared the shit out of me and a sense of relief washed over me as I realized my tab had already been paid. The hoodie-clad ladies looked used up; like under a bridge used up. I wanted to run to HEB to buy them something to eat and maybe some lotion for their leathery skin. YIKES!
Whew! Look at the time! I'm sure Mrs SgtCody and Mr VodkaSoda must want us home by now. Oh look, I missed a call... We're outta here!
Verdict: Avoid Finnegan's as though it were a dry county.