Tag: fast food

I Wanna Be A Hooters Girl!

Oh good! A Hooters restaurant. Just what we need.

A bright orange roof and gaudy neon sign signaled the arrival of our latest neighbourhood eatery – Hooters. I imagine a lot of women sighed in despair as the restaurant opened its doors to the crowds of excitable young men. The prospect of being served sizzling wings by a girl in tangerine hotpants isn’t my idea of fun. Yet I can’t help glancing longingly through the windows every time I drive by…

Hooters girls - their bums never look big in this.OK, I admit, I want to be a Hooters girl! I don’t really want to be a waitress – I tried it once, but my lack of balancing, pouring and social skills meant that career lasted one night only. No, it’s because all the girls who work at Hooters are pretty.

They have skinny legs, shiny hair and white-toothed smiles. Their orange hotpants don’t make their butt look like two bouncing pumpkins.

If I was a Hooters girl I could use my female assets to hide my lack of waitressing skills. It wouldn’t matter if I dropped the salsa or poured hot gravy into the slightly bulging lap of my diner – he would be too busy trying to get a glimpse down my t-shirt to notice. And then he’d leave me a big tip! Now that’s job satisfaction.

The reality.However, I think I’ve left it too late to pursue my dream. Most waitresses at the restaurant are students, so I’m probably 10 years to late to be a Hooters girl. Although I was probably 10 years too late 10 years ago.

Come to think of it, there’s never been a period in my life when I haven’t looked dorky, awkward or lumpy in the wrong places. I’m just not Hooters girl material.

I wonder if other Hooters wannabes have landed their dream job, only to be greeted by screams of horror as crowds rush to the door to escape the sight of their wobbly orange-peel thighs.

On the other hand I probably look as good as it’s going to get, so why not try? If I land the job I’ll let you all know. You could all come in and ask to be served by that cute waitress with the matching colour hair and hotpants, no, she’s not a freaky old hag, she’s just, erm, womanly.

Would you mind doing that for me? Just don’t order anything with hot gravy and you’ll be fine.

Mind you, there is another place where I can wear hotpants, serve men beer and get lots of tips. And the place is so dark I could easily hide my dorkyness. Although I don’t think I could manage that pole…

Hotpants are tight and wings are hot over at Humor-Blogs.com


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Not On My Pizza

Fresh from Mr. Greasy Pizza's Pie Shack. Yum!

I love pizza but despair at the concoctions available at my local pizza joint. Italians had it all figured out years ago. Tomato sauce, mozzarella and a scattering of basil, that’s it. It’s worked for centuries so why mess with it?

May Jupiter whack you with thunderbolts if you put any of this stuff on my pie.

Wrong.Pineapple – Brutal wars have erupted over the contentious issue of fruit on pizza. Possibly. Some crazy people think tomato is a fruit but they are wrong – ever seen a tomato flavour Gummy Worm?

Chunks of tropical fruit should be dangling from pink cocktails, not nestling in melted mozzarella.

Fig, Goat’s Cheese & Prosciutto – Why can’t they just call what it is – ‘Fig and Pig’? Goat’s cheese refuses to melt so burning chunks of it fall into your lap. Even worse than pineapple, fig is full of seeds that stick between your teeth for weeks. The fancy word ‘Prosciutto’ is used to fool vegetarians who think it is some kind of onion.

Non-Italian Cheeses – Was the quaint English town of Cheddar previously a suburb of Rome? Does Monterey Jack originate from the ripe udders of buffalo grazing on the plains of Vesuvius? Do ruddy-cheeked Neopolitan maidens lovingly shred dried-up curds into handy resealable plastic pouches? No.

Donair – If you’re not familiar with this delightful delicacy, Donair meat is slivers of elderly sheep that has been grilled by a lukewarm radiator for several weeks. A pizza shop owner (probably on drugs) tossed this gruesome gristle on a pizza and defiled the dish forever. The Italian Mafia should send him a horse’s head for his sins.

Mind you, he’d probably stick it on the spit and grill that too.

Donair pizza. Wrong. Yet so very right.

Hamburger – I assume this was inspired by a horrific crash involving a pizza delivery guy and a Burger King truck. I can’t quite comprehend how this pizza works. Are greasy burgers strewn atop the pizza along with lettuce and a bun? Or hidden underneath a mountain of molten cheddar like some monstrous Cheeseburger of Satan? Are there pickles?

Why stop there? Why not add fries, fish sticks, cheesecake and slap another pizza on top? Oh, the horror! The Roman Gods must be glaring down from their Pantheon in rage at these culinary catastrophes.

Actually, this post has made me feel quite hungry. Maybe for the purpose of research I may nibble the edge of that Donair pizza, just to make absolutely sure it tastes as bad as it looks.

*nyom, nyom, nyom*

Hmm, maybe just a bit more…


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