Hooters Understand

It seems that Hooters, much like every other unoriginal business in the country, has resorted to exploiting our trying economic times to sell shit to the masses. A poster declaring Hooters deep love for profit guests’ wallets has started appearing all over the restaurant - on the doors, the wait stations, the single wall not covered in random crap. Apparently, nothing says economic stimulus like cheap beer and overpriced appetizers.

It also seems the nothing says economic stimulus like glaring grammatical error. Let me take a moment to commend Hooters for so actively promoting the stereotype of a restaurant full of stupidity with a dash of ditsy for good measure. My college degree appreciates being cheapened by elementary grammar mistakes.

“Hooters understand the trying times of this economy and wish to help!”

Wait; let me get this straight, Hooters understand? Whose hooters exactly understand? Apparently, there is a girl out there somewhere with boobs that are not only capable of thinking, but have the ability to understand the complexities of an economic recession. I would like to make it my life’s mission to meet these genius, Albert Einstein tits.

Dear, dear Hooters, if you are doing any understanding as an entity perhaps “Hooters understands” would have been a little more appropriate. You see there is a little letter we call ‘s’ hanging out there at the end. It’s the squiggly looking one that looks like a snake. S is for snake! Good thing I passed the first grade under the superior tutelage of Mrs. Minner.

In my complete and utter disgust with this poster I decided to point out its obvious mistake to one of the girls at work, “Did you see that poster? So obviously wrong.”

Silence, ticking, crickets, awkward pause, “Oh I know, that girl is so like off. I mean just sorta weird looking.”

“Um no, the mistake I’m talking about is in the writing.”

“Oh wow, stimulus is spelled wrong. I totally see it now.”

*Ugh* “Actually that’s right, but there should be an s at the end of understand.”

Silence, ticking, crickets, awkward pause, “Oh.”

Sadly, she was not the only one to not realize this mistake. Mostly obviously, our managers who approved the poster didn’t notice this mistake either. And don’t even get me started on the so-called designer who put this together because not only do you have a horrible eye, you probably failed English several times. Don’t worry; my hooters understand that you’re a dumbass.

On a side note, the girl in the poster is wearing the new shorts that my hooters mostly definitely approve of.

The Hooters Pose Strikes Again

After posting yesterday about the dreaded Hooters pose and the corresponding affliction Hootersposeitis, I found myself on Facebook fueling my raging social networking addiction. Yes, my name is Sauce and I’ve been addicted to Facebook since 2006 (that’s right, bitches, I’m an old school Facebooker). Anyway, this isn’t about my love for perusing random photo albums and leaving witty wall posts. This is about how the Hooters pose has dominated my life and taken over my body to a point where I no longer have any control. Bring out a camera and my legs take over, wrenching me into position like I’m freaking Pinocchio before he becomes a real boy.

In my Facebook perusing, I ended up on my profile reading various wall posts. As I read a note from my dear friend Holly about setting up a lunch date I casually glanced to the left and my profile picture caught my eye. Changed a few days prior, the picture shows a friend and me standing on a street corner on an early summer evening. I may or may not be holding a sign that says “You Honk, We Drink!” just as I may or may not be slightly intoxicated (the afore mentioned theoretical sign might have been quite successful).


It really is a fabulous picture that accurately depicts the blissful debauchery of summer in Montana. What is not so fabulous is the fact that I am, obviously, standing in the cliché Hooters pose (please note the legs included for your consideration). Also not so fabulous is the fact that this picture has graced my profile for a number of days without me even realizing that my Hootersposeitis is on such glaring display. Hooters is so engrained into my body that I am oblivious to its devastatingly overbearing reach. It seems that Hooters truly has taken over my life and I will forever and always be a Hooters Girl.

P.S. If you didn’t make my legs look so good I’d be a lot angrier with you, Hooters pose. This must be a side effect of the disease.

Defeating the Hooters Pose

Every Hooters Girl knows how to take a picture. Photographed on a daily basis, Hooters Girls and cameras go together like mac-n-cheese, cookies and milk, wings and ranch, Bert and Ernie (please insert cliché pairing here). Just as every Hooters Girl knows how to take a picture, she knows exactly how to stand in every picture. In fact, Hooters Girls are told how to stand.

1. Stand a bit sideways, approximately 45° from front facing.
2. Bend the knee closest to front so your foot is pointed with toe on the ground, heal up.
3. Place hands on hips (please note that my example has her arms all wrong. Bad, Hooters Girl, bad!).
4. Turn your torso back towards the camera, while leaving legs at 45°.
5. Now make it sexy! Most girls will pop their hip furthest from the camera up a little and really hold the shoulders back to show off the girls.
6. Congratulations, you have nailed the signature Hooters pose.
7. Repeat…87 times a day.

So why does Hooters want every girl to stand like this? Well first off it promotes uniformity across restaurants, but mostly it makes you look pretty damn good. Of course by pretty damn good I mean skinny, which is a plus when wearing an outfit composed of the wonder fabrics Lycra and spandex. Seriously, go find a mirror and try it, I assure you that you will look thinner. Observe the magic of the Hooters Girl optical illusion!

Now that you’ve tried that out, sit back and enjoy the rest of this because if you keep doing it you will never be able to escape it. It’s like the twilight zone. Basically, the move will be so ingrained into your body that every time you see a camera your body will unknowingly force you into this pose. After reviewing your photos, you will stare in horror as you see how Hooters has invaded the privacy of your normal, non-nylon-wearing life. Damn you, Hooters pose!

What is a girl to do to combat Hootersposeitis? At our restaurant we have found the cure is to replace one dreaded photo cliché with another. We have found the prescription for this horrific disease is the most cliché photo pose of all time, the prom pose. You know, guy behind girl, awkwardly tilted heads, interlocked arms, done since the dawn of time. Yes that’s right, we have taken to imitating the awkward mannerisms of 17-year-olds in formal attire as a way to breath life back into poor, over posed bodies. Now rather than simply standing with chests held high and hands assertively placed on our hips around a guest, we force them to relieve their dreaded teenage years Hooters style.

Implemented by my closest Hooters sister, Ariel, the prom pose has taken Hooters by storm. An apparent hit with diners, the prom pose has begun appearing in countless photos. We find it’s most successful application is with acne prone, teenage boys who blush shades of red never before seen on the face of man. While it’s not for everyone, it is certainly refreshing to break the photo monotony with prom power.

So if you find yourself in a photo slump I urge you to bring the prom pose to your photo repertoire and rediscover the awesome power of forced photo poses. Perhaps next we will tackle the dreaded senior portrait.

See, told you it's been around since the dawn of time. Thank you prom pose, Hooters loves you.

To a Closing Hooters

Ok, so I’m gonna get serious on your ass for this post, bear with me!

Reading the Mayor of Wingville’s blog lately, I couldn’t help but notice the increasing amount of news regarding Hooters restaurants closing

around the nation. This led me to begin thinking about what makes a Hooters successful and why some restaurants flounder while others flourish; what separates a success from a failure?

Now I realize that our currently economic climate leaves a lot to be desired. As a college graduate of the class of 2008, I – along with many of my friends – will be the first to tell you that our economy is in the shitter. After searching endlessly for a job within my major, I ended up at Hooters with an eye toward seeking a law degree. Basically, I decided, after unsuccessfully job seeking with a resume filled with all the right internships, G.P.As and references, that I had to do something above and beyond to distinguish myself. Enter law school.

That brings me back to Hooters. What makes a successful Hooters with staying power? Just as I need to differentiate myself as a job seeker, Hooters needs to differentiate as a restaurant. And this is the very basis of Hooters, differentiation. Everyone knows that Hooters is not Hooters because of the food; I mean lets be honest here, the food at Hooters is certainly not stellar. Hooters is Hooters because of its distinct environment and wait staff. These very distinctions allow Hooters to have continued success as a chain. Simply put, Hooters has found what’s it good at and stuck to it.

So why the sporadic closing of Hooters restaurants around the nation? Yes, there are certain environmental and economical factors that vary from place to place but for a minute lets ignore that. This Hooters Girl is of the opinion that these restaurants have forgotten what they’re good at. Think for a moment about the Hooters you’ve visited and what they were like. There was lots of fried food and pretty girls, but there was so much more. That so much more was personality. It was the snarky yet flirty attitude of your server as she sat at your high top table. It was the dancing and singing that erupted spontaneously. It was the fun you had.

Now imagine a Hooters where it’s just the food. Yeah the girls are pretty but they’re boring and offer the same service as the Applebee’s across the street. There is no dancing and most certainly no singing. So my question is, in a Hooters like that, what makes it Hooters? I’ve been to a few Hooters and my first experience with the place was in a restaurant like I just described. It was late March and the restaurant was just as cold and uninviting as the weather. My reaction was to never go back.

My whole point returns to the fact that Hooters has recognized the importance of differentiation. Unfortunately, some restaurants in the Hooters chain simply fail to deliver on what makes Hooters special. Maybe they can’t find staff with the right combination of looks and personality. Maybe the managers are too busy looking at the bottom line. Maybe they’ve been open too long and simply got lazy. Whatever the case it very well could be that these restaurants failed because they are no longer Hooters, but rather just another greasy spoon with crappy food. So here’s to keeping Hooters, Hooters and realizing that you don’t really go for the wings, but rather the experience.

The Hooters Truths: Volume III

For you returning readers, you are probably familiar with the Hooters Truths. The Hooters Truths is a continually growing list of things that are ever present in the life of a Hooters Girl. The truths can be funny or disturbing or mundane, but all hold unavoidable truth in common.

As a Hooters Girl you WILL:
1. Increase your flexibility through the game of limbo. Unless you are tall, then they will just make you hold the bar.
2. Hate chicken.
3. Find that good posture makes you appear skinnier.
4. Be asked if you are on the menu and available for order.
5. Realize that everyone really does have a “good side” and a “bad side” when it comes to taking pictures. It will be your goal to be on this side always.
6. Either love or hate fried pickles. There will be no in between.
7. Hear the words “naked” and “wet” together far too often.
8. Love Fridays and special occasions because it means you can wear black.
9. Babysit.
10. Never walk to your car alone.
11. Upsell like it’s your job because according to management, it is your job.
12. Be asked by friends if they can try on your shorts, usually by friends with penises.
13. Eat TONS of salad.
14. Have an imaginary boyfriend/fiancé/husband or seamlessly mention your real one in conversation to handle creeps.
15. Know just to how to wear your shorts to best combat muffin top.

Moving

I hate moving. I especially hate moving when I've been made a mute by some hellish illness that has been utterly dominating the shit out of me. Lugging mattresses and swallowing fire is not a happy combination and has resulted in causing me to be quite cranky. Add the loss of my voice - and with it the ability to complain - and quite cranky quickly evolves into PMS worthy bitchiness. Needless to say, I am eagerly anticipating a three day weekend. God Bless America.

So please forgive the lack of posting. My posts would probably be so incredibly dripping with my usual sarcasm that you'd have to carry a weed whacker or machete just to get through them. You can thank me for my consideration if you like.

On a lighter note I did meet a guy who's favorite word is plethora. I have been in word love with plethora since junior high. Perhaps this is a match made in vocabulary heaven.

Mr. Gym Shorts

A busted Oldsmobile turns into the parking lot. It’s blue, but the dirt caked upon its hood and side panels nearly turns it gray. It’s a Bikini Car Wash Thursday so I grab my bucket and walk up to the window trying my very best not to realize how much this feels like car wash prostitution.

“I can just bet you’re lookin’ for a wash. Looks like she’s really needing it!”

“Mmmhmm, she’s a messy girl”

I take a moment to choke down his disgusting attempt at innuendo and say in my cheeriest voice, “Well hop on out and head in for some wings, she’ll be better than new when you’re all finished!”

“Oh I’m not hungry, just came here for a good cleaning,” he says as he opens his door to get out. “I seen (I shudder at the sound of my most hated grammatical error) you while I was at Jiffy Lube – real convenient.” Real convenient, you get to stand around admiring young, hot asses in itty bitty bikinis while your beater gets a good cleaning. Real convenient indeed.

As he gets out of the car I notice more about him. His hair is greasy and he wears worn gym shorts over skinny, blindingly white legs. He looks me up and down intently, going over me slowly and deliberately, taking his time in a way that makes the act inappropriate.

I casually lead him to a row of chairs on the sidewalk and I’m sure he’s watching my ass wiggle as I walk. What I do know for certain is that he’s close enough that I can hear him breathing with every step.

I turn quickly on my heal and pat the seat, “There ya go! Get comfortable!”

I suds down his Olds, desperately trying not to make eye contact. He was the sort that makes you uneasy so you avoid looking even though you know he’s staring. I can almost feel the filth in his mind – that he’s imaging railing me in unmentionable places every time I bend over to dip my sponge. I become increasingly uncomfortable as I feel his eyes trying to see right through me; I speed up my work and quickly rinse the car.

“Mmmm,” he said, walking towards me, “She looks great. All clean and ready for me.” Once again I attempt to disregard his dripping innuendo.

“Yup, all ready to hit the road!”

Getting in his car he hands me four dollars out his open window, “Thanks, honey, best wash I’ve ever had. Might have to dirty her up and come back for this one.”

*Ugh* “We’ll be ready and waiting!”

As he pulls out, Ariel giggles behind me. I look at her quizzically and she bursts out laughing with one of my coworkers.

“I know right, he was so awful!” I whine.

“Awful, not quite the word I’d use. I’d personally use totally and utterly disgusting,” Ariel stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, he was pretty bad”

“Oh my God, you don’t even know do you?!”

“Know what?” I say as confusion appears on my face.

“He obviously likes gym shorts for a reason. He was stroking himself so hard he might as well just pulled down his pants and jerked off. And the way he looked at you the whole time…just like going at it hardcore and staring at you. He was totally hard when he got back in his car.”

“Apparently in my hurry to get away from him I didn’t notice his ragging boner.”

“Oh, it was ragging all right,” Ariel said with a giggle.

And with that little incident we have our first Bikini Car Wash ban. You see, fondling yourself while I wash your car is most definitely not allowed, Mr. Gym Shorts. I’m sure that was the best four dollars you’ve ever spent, but next time, please keep your “car wash” activities to yourself.

Random Searches

Every now and again I check my analytics because I get some weird kick out of seeing how many people are reading my blog. I also enjoy seeing how people got here. The paths are varied: site referrals, links and my very favorite, searches. Looking at random Google search terms, I am amazed at some of things people come up with to find information.

"Girl with one leg Ihop"
The joke is as follows: If a girl with big boobs works at Hooters, than were does a girl with one leg work? Ihop. I can't believe you had a need to look that up, ever.

"Hooters 'smidge mean'"
Newsflash, it's not just Hooters girls that are a 'smidge mean,' all chicks are a smidge mean. It has something to do with having a vagina. Concentrate lots of good lookingish girls in one restaurant and that whole smidge thing may just get thrown out the window at times.

"Hooters cameltoe"
Cameltoe happens, end of story.

"Cheer car wash jailbait"
Shame on you for looking that up. Actually, shame on high school cheerleaders for looking like little sluts on street corners.

"Hooters sidework"
Contrary to popular belief there is sidework at Hooters. I may not roll silverware, but I wash dishes, sweep the floors, bus my own tables, dust random crap and do whatever else I'm told to do. While some Hooters may be sidework free, remember that Hooters is franchised so every restaurant is not the same.

"Hooters in shiny legs"
Thanks for adding the word 'in' here; it was completely unnecessary. Yes, I get into my shiny legs everyday and skip on down to Hooters. Putting those legs on is really tricky stuff.

"My boyfriend in nylons"
Word to the wise, honey. If your boyfriend is wearing nylons he probably shouldn't be your boyfriend anymore. However, he could be your girlfriend if you're into that sort of thing.

Finally, my personal favorite...
"How to frost a tit boob cake"
First off, I am a fan of your redundancy; in case you didn't know tit and boob are synonyms for future reference. Next, kudos for making a 'tit boob' cake. Finally, I will suggest fondant for that realistic tit skin look. If you prefer the goodness of frosting, I guess you'd just start at the nipple and work your way out. I am no tit boob cake expert here, but I am an expert in awesome and you, my friend, are awesome