As luck would have it, my doctor’s office is right next to a Hooters and after I finished my mandatory yearly physical yesterday, I decided to reward myself with some overrated wings and some underrated beers.
As I watched the twenty-something waitresses flit from table to table, giggling and jiggling and pretending to be interested in their stupid customers, I had an epiphany.
Hooters needs to branch out and stop hiring just hot, young girls.
Actually, maybe they need a whole new restaurant chain. They can call it “Hangers” and only select perfectly aged MILF meat, aged 32 to 49.
Much as a man who is forced to eat the same food every day will somehow rationalize a fondness for it to avoid going insane, a decade of marriage has made me fully appreciate a good MILF.
A nice droopy rack, some character lines and a coquettish episiotomy scar just out of view really get my blood pumping, and I know good and damned well I’m not alone.
Part of the whole Hooters mystique is fantasizing you could somehow bang one of their syphilis-ridden waitresses. Well guess what, with a few Viagras and a look that says step-father material, you might be able to actually make that beautiful dream come true at Hangers.