Call Me Sometime

Every good Hooters Girl knows the importance of her name on a napkin. This is how your Hooters Girl greets you. With a smile and a, "How 'bout a Bud Light Big Daddy today?" she will drop a beverage napkin with her name scrawled across it in colorful Sharpie. Of course this will be adorably embellished with a heart or two and probably an "xoxo". If you're in a decent Hooters, girls will come from all corners of the restaurant to add their mark to your napkin and you will feel all sorts of special.

This story, however, is not about you and your sense of accomplishment at having three or more hot chicks say hi to you. This is story is about the napkin. Once upon a time I, as is my duty, wrote my name on a napkin and placed it in the middle of booth occupied by three teenage girls. They were fun girls and as I love to bullshit with my tables I talked to them quite a bit throughout their stay. We talked about them being excited to be seniors next year and about boys and all that high school girl stuff that seems beyond important when you're seventeen.

After enjoying a healthy dinner of wings, curly fries, and fried pickles that I insisted were God's gift to fried food, they left a nice tip and I began busing their table as they walked out the door. I stacked the cups and grabbed the plates and as I did so I noticed something under one of the plates I'd picked up. There it was, the napkin. Neatly folded, I could see the pink Sharpie of my name bleeding through the napkin as it lay there on the table. As I went to grab it, I noticed not only was my name written upon it but there in blue pen something else was scrawled.

"I don't know if you're into girls, but if you are you should call me."

And there it was, a name and a number. I stared at it in shock. Now I've had plenty of numbers left for me on napkins, receipts, wet naps, and once even on a plate written in ketchup while being employed at Hooters, but never have I had a girl leave me her number.

I literally laughed out loud. I am in no way attracted to girls in a sexual manner. Yeah, girls are hot and I can appreciate a gorgeous girl but I love boys and, as ugly as they are, I love penises (yes I admit it and I do so ever so proudly). I mean it's very flattering that you think I'm hot enough to scissor (sick, I can't believe I just said that) but ladies just really aren't my thing personally. And, even if I was attracted to girls you can bet I'd be going for girls over 18. Sorry, honey, lets keep it legal here.

So boys next time you decide to leave me your number not only will I probably not be calling you but realize you've got some major competition. She's seventeen and is apparently one assertive chick. Don't worry though, I won't be calling her either.