Thou Shalt Not Judge if Thy Carry a Playboy Handbag

I’ve always made a point of being totally accepting of negative opinions of Hooters.  The fact of the matter is that pretty much everyone will have pretty much different attitudes towards pretty much everything.  That’s just human nature, my friends.  Think what you want and I’ll just go ahead and think what I want.  It only seems fair.

Now what I don’t so much enjoy is people who let their opinions blind them.  What I mean is when even the most positive of experiences is totally lost because a person is so set in their ways.  I’m not so much bothered by the fact that the opinion doesn’t change – that’s somewhat against my original premise – but rather bothered that they can’t even see the positive at all.

Beyond that, people whose opinions appear hypocritical also bother me.  My reasons for this are probably fairly obvious.  I mean if you’re going to have a stance on something you damn well better have a similar stance on similar issues.  That’s just commonsense.

Recently, a family consisting of parents and one child sat down to a meal at Hooters.  Given the make up of the table, I did what I always do in that situation – make a point of taking care of the woman first.  I do this because, for one, it’s polite and because I like to do everything in my power to make women, who perhaps have less favorable feelings toward Hooters, feel more comfortable.

Now usually that tactic breaks the ice pretty well, but in this case nothing I could do would make this woman like me.  In fact, nothing I could do would probably even make this woman think of me as a person.  I could have given her the winning lottery numbers and she’d have glared at me.  Her indifference practically screamed of her disdain for me while the rest of her family seemed to thoroughly enjoy everything about their experience; mom just wasn’t having it.

Mmm, glittery.  CREDIT.

While that alone bothered me, what bugged me even more was the fact that she had her purse on the table.  A purse with a giant, glittery Playboy Bunny displayed prominently on the side.  So Hooters isn’t ok, but Playboy is?  I don’t think that makes a damn bit of sense.

Do me a favor and don’t judge my shorts, tank top and so-opaque-they’re-practically leggings nylons if you support naked chicks enough to proclaim it on the side of the purse you probably bought at Spencer’s.  That’s unfair and messed up on more levels than I can even begin to elaborate upon.  What I will say, though, is that I think my job at Hooters is pretty innocent when compared to nearly everything involving Playboy.  But maybe that’s just me.

I hope your Playboy purse continues to treat you well.  And by that I actually mean that you can go and stuff it into somewhat inappropriate places on your hypocritical body.  Who knows, you might be in to that.