So There I Was at Hooters…

Aw, look! It's the new hire training.
Aw, look! It’s the new hire training.

I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re already envisioning the intellectual carnage that took place when the Lorcanator found herself in a restaurant surrounded by flame-orange T&A. Ha! That’s where you’re wrong! I had no mishaps, tit or otherwise. In fact, it was just a pleasant lunch. I had the crab legs.

I have never understood the issue society has with Hooters. Sure, it’s a little on the sexy side, but the waitresses are wearing far more than most people wear to the beach, and thanks to their regulation burn-proof pantyhose, they’ve actually got less exposed skin than the old lady who waited on me the last time I was in an Applebee’s.

“But Lorca? Aren’t you outraged at the objectification and exploitation of women that goes on in an environment like that?”

NOPE. If you don’t wanna work there, go to beauty school and dye hair for a living.

Seriously, people act like there are roving bands of HooterRecruiters that snatch beautiful, chesty women off the streets, women who were actually on their way to their graduation ceremonies where they would have received diplomas in particle physics, only to be abducted, then have an owl tank top slapped on their chests and plates of hot wings thrust into their hands with orders to take them to table twelve.

You know who REALLY HATES HOOTERS? Ugly people who have no imagination. I happen to be ugly, but I have an unfathomably incredible imagination, so waitresses making a lot of money by leaning too close to dumb asses and accidentally bumping them in the shoulders with their D-cups while pointing out the twelve varieties of wing flavors doesn’t bother me in the least. In fact, if I looked half as good as those waitresses do in that floss-sized uniform, hell, I wouldn’t just work at Hooters, I’d wear that shit to Walmart and PTO meetings.

Now, truth be told, there were some incidents at various franchise locations in which the waitresses were sexually harassed and in some cases, even assaulted. Honey, if you can’t figure out that the kitchen of that restaurant contains a sharp knife for removing the penis and a deep-fryer to toss it in, well, maybe particle physics is more your speed.

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10 thoughts on “So There I Was at Hooters…

  1. Here! Here! Roflmao! *raises glass of White Zin very high*
    Now, I do that only because you crack me up. I actually have only been to Hooters once. My brother who lived in Vegas for a time took me to one. I’ve never been back. All I did was fight the urge to stare the whole time. I did bring my wife back a shirt, however. Speaking of that shirt, I wonder where she hid it… *runs off to find it*
    😉

    -Jimmy

  2. Friggin-a right! If anything, these women are taking advantage of knuckle draggers everywhere. If there were Barca-loungers instead of standard dining tables, they would have to charge rent. It’s a clear case of mistaken sexual exploitation… these women are laughing all the way to the bank, and if I wasn’t terrified my over 40, post breast-feeding sagging ta-tas wouldn’t get tragically tied up into the front (or back!) Knot of the t-shirt, I may stuff my double-wide ass in those geriatric orthopedic hose and strut my stuff.

  3. I actually saw one for the very first time on my recent cross country insane road trip. Seriously, for the first time. Didn’t go in. The O’s in the sign look like boobs.

  4. I’m not a big fan of Hooters. Mostly because the food is a priced too high for this area…and some guy friends like to go there and it really annoys me that they’re Uber polite to the waitresses, but have no problem letting all their cussing flow freely with me. *disgusted scoffing*
    And, yeah, if I could get tipped $20 a table on a consistent basis I would totally take up waitress-ing. (I wouldn’t fill out the uniform very well, though.)

  5. Not my fav wing place but the service has always been good and the wings are just the way you want them. I’m sure the avg 12 yr old is agog…. Well the avg 12yr old brain anyway.

    • 12 year old brain pretty much describes most 40 year old guys.
      Okay, and 50 year olds. We don’t really get much better as time goes on I’m afraid. By 60 we have a 10 year old’s brain.

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