Hooters- Worst Restaurant Ever First off, I deleted that stupid video post that always plays even though I turned the "autoplay" value in the html from "true" to "false". So, good riddance.
Second, Hooters is the worst restaurant ever. The food is terrible, the atmosphere worse, and unless you're in California, Texas, or Florida, even the industrial strength nylon can't keep your waitress' ass from sliding its way down the back of her legs. I went last night because it was late, I was meeting someone, and I needed a place that had beer and food. The Outer Banks is limited when it comes cheap food and beer, so we ended up at Hooters by default. We walked in, it was karaoke night, and our waitress sat us the table closest to the speakers. If she looked like any of these girls-
"We have MBA's from Columbia! Just kidding, but she nailed a guy in the back of a Tahoe once."
- I still would have been mad. Unfortunately for both of us, she doesn't. I'd like to say that I was a total asshole and got us moved to a new table, but I wasn't. I was exceptionally polite, and got us moved to a new table. With the exception of employees of college registrar offices, I'm a complete gentleman, regardless of the incompetence of service personnel. Even when my Red Stripe with Lime turns into a Red Stripe with Lemon.
Hooray terrorism!
Anyway, I'm totally uncomfortable interacting on any kind of level with Hooter's waitresses, and I'm sure I'd be even less comfortable if I ever wandered into a strip club. Why? Internal conflict. On one hand, I try to give extra consideration that these are people first, but they're so totally objectified, and I'm also addicted to boobies. As a result, the social dynamics of the situation are a slightly more complex version of elementary school, when you let that one girl know you liked her by tripping her when she wasn't looking, and then making fun of her in front of everyone else.
Standard dialogue-
Her: "Welcome to Hooters, can I get you anything to drink?"
Me: "Yeah, an apple martini, and can I buy you back your dignity?"
Second, Hooters is the worst restaurant ever. The food is terrible, the atmosphere worse, and unless you're in California, Texas, or Florida, even the industrial strength nylon can't keep your waitress' ass from sliding its way down the back of her legs. I went last night because it was late, I was meeting someone, and I needed a place that had beer and food. The Outer Banks is limited when it comes cheap food and beer, so we ended up at Hooters by default. We walked in, it was karaoke night, and our waitress sat us the table closest to the speakers. If she looked like any of these girls-
"We have MBA's from Columbia! Just kidding, but she nailed a guy in the back of a Tahoe once."Hooray terrorism!Standard dialogue-
Her: "Welcome to Hooters, can I get you anything to drink?"
Me: "Yeah, an apple martini, and can I buy you back your dignity?"
posted by Justin at 2:08 PM 
5 Comments:
I'd buy you two apple martini's just to see you say that, plus cover up to $20 of the dignity.
who the hell orders an apple martini anyway?
This guy, whenever I'm at Lenin's Sexual Utopia.
You're...like a gentleman.
Ok this post is funny yet relatable. I give two thumbs up. But seriously...and then you feel obligated to tip them a lot because they are showing you a glimpse of their massive chest...but then of course you feel guilty because if you do tip extra it means that you were looking and or you want them to sleep with you.
Next time, rather than ordering an apple martini, try ordering warm milk... that always goes over well at Hooters.
Post a Comment
<< Home