Chasing Windmills

I HATE HOOTERS

Now, wait a minute girls before you start applauding and making me woman of the year, it is not what you think.

Now I usually don't write two blog entries on the same day. What would I have left to write for tomorrow ? However, this can't wait.

Do you ever have one of those days where it feels like life has kicked you in the jimmy ? And while you are laying there writhing in pain, he or she keeps kicking you. Welcome to my life.

The day starts out with a stupid horoscope that reads "you're about to meet some interesting people" and "your love life is about to turn around". That was bullshit. But at that moment I thought, "it ain't gonna happen as long as I am sitting here in my pj's playing X-box". So, I get cleaned up, dressed, and hit the road.

Once again, I remind you that if you have never been to Clarksdale, it absolutely sucks. If there is a bright center to the universe, Clarksdale is the town that it is furtherest from. So, I drive a few towns over to catch dinner and a movie. While I am watching the movie, I consider my dining options since their is a cornucopeia from which to chose.

My first inclination is Outback since it has been sometime since I have had a steak. Then I realize if I go there I will be waited on by a homo. The over attentive kind who won't leave you alone for 5 minutes. The kind you want to just take your wallet and go away. "No, Raphael. I don't need more ice or a refill, 13 is my limit." Then I remember Hooter's. Hooter's a sweet dream if there ever was one. I can eat and look at well endowed white women (since I can't do that in Clarksdale). And just maybe, that will satiate me enough that I will not stop at the nudie bar on my way home. That was a mistake. May I have a mulligan ?

So, I go to Hooter's. Now the reason I now hate Hooter's is not because it objectifies and degrades women, but because I receive no benefit from this objectification. Let me explain...
As I am sitting there looking around, I realize that I am the only guy in the place that doesn't have a Hooter's girl sitting at his table. The 40 something year old next to me does. He looks like the kind of guy who goes home and jerks off to Hanoi Jane Fonda workout tapes because he is too scared to possess real porn. Meanwhile, my waitress is sitting there eating at a table with 3 other guys. I will refrain from any crude comments regarding her virtue.

Now I understand the logic. Older single men are looking for attention. Give it to them and they will tip well. Younger guys usually have less money or manners and don't tip as well. But trust me, I tip well if the service merits. Flirt with me and you will get some bling-bling. I do the quick pit smell b.o. check. We're good. Then I finish my meal which loses its flavor with each bite and take my leave. My waitress adds insult to injury by saying, "Have a nice day, SIR." SIR. Sir is fine when I am making some smart ass punk plea guilty, but it is down right insulting when some over developed co-ed says it. It is that same feeling you ladies get when the bag boy at the Piggly Wiggly calls you "Ma'am". But the question begs, if she perceives me as old, why didn't she flirt like any other gold digger would ? Now I am too depressed to go to the nudie bar.

Now I know I am alone in my crusade against Hooter's. My so called brothers-in-arms will leave me hanging all alone as they are lured into its web of lies and deceit. I should have gone to Outback...and the nudie bar.

Makes me wonder why I even bother getting out of bed somedays. Deep, deep, deep, down in some chamber of my soul I let out a chuckle. I would swear this was made up if I hadn't experienced it firsthand.

"It is a dog eat dog world and I am wearing milk done underwear."
Norm Peterson

posted by Michael @ 7:17 PM