Address: 461 North 3rd St.
When you open a bar named McFadden's, you cultivate douchiness like moist cultures in a Petri dish. Indeed, the McFadden's locations in Chicago and New York made their respective lists. But please believe that this must be the douchiest of them all. With scantily-clad beer-tub wenches perched above the bar like so many fake statues on plastic-tub pedestals, and its damp floors covered with scuttling bros screeching along to songs TRL popularized 10 years ago, McFadden's is Philly's douche capital. Be sure to check out the weekly beer pong tournaments if you want to wring out your soul. Most of the sticky muck on the floor is soul-residue, not jizz (though there have been anonymous reports of sex on the dance floor: "She was in a long coat. He was in a jersey and backwards cap. The jersey covered most of it.").