Bringing Boobs to a Mouse Pad Near You

Hooters is one of those places that is known for souvenirs.  You eat some greasy wings, check out some tits, guzzle at least twenty-five ounces of beer and then get a t-shirt so you can remember it all tomorrow.  In fact, if I’m being a really good little Hooters Girl I’m supposed to hard sell at every table I have.  And let me tell you, I’m damn good at selling shit when I’m in the mood for it.  It just really isn’t that difficult to sell a cheap t-shirt or a calendar full of hot chicks.  Hell even I have a calendar full of hot chicks.  Who doesn’t want that shit adorning their lackluster walls?

Now is only your screen was 3D.

Some things though aren’t as easy to sell.  These include expensive items like golf bags (I’ve sold one) and poker sets (still working on that one).  They also include items like the booby mouse pad.  That’s right, Hooters sells a mouse pad with it’s own set of gel-filled, mini double-d’s.  And while it’s good for a laugh from pretty much every person who stops at the merchandise counter, it’s not exactly a big seller.  While they’ll all feel it up for a second or two, no one really seems to want to take that experience home with them.

Of course there are a few exceptions.  Purchasers of the mouse pad include creepy older businessmen, gag gifters - 50% at least - and awkward college students.  I can only imagine how an anatomical mouse pad could heighten the Internet porn viewing of a lonely college freshman in a darkened dorm room.  That just sounds like a match made in masturbation heaven.

Now with all that background, you can imagine my total surprise when I sold one of these mouse pads not to an acne prone teenager, but to a 75+ year-old woman.  Yes, I actually managed to sell one of our endowed mouse pads to a female senior citizen who couldn’t wait to get that thing on her desk.

Available in your choice of
skin tone!

“I’ve just never found a mouse pad with so much wrist support.  Much better than the silly ones my daughter keeps buying for me.”

This woman was generally excited about her purchase and prepared me for it being a hit at her assisted living facility.

“All the ladies will be in here next week getting their own!”

I love old people; they just don’t give a fuck what people think of them.  It’s refreshing.  That’s why I’m fully prepared for a barrage of support hose, canes and short perms to be busting down the doors of Hooters for a booby mouse pad.  They’ll be talking about them at quilting clubs and card tables and 5:00 p.m. suppers.  I feel a fad coming on.

Have I mentioned I freaking love old people?  Oh, I have.  Well I still effing do.