Can't get enough HOOTERS!

Yeah, Hooters - the sports bar/restaurant/80s pop culture icon. Yes, we are chef and cook and yes we love Hooters. No, I'm not a lesbian. Why does everyone always assume that? Just because I believe I was supposed to be born a boy doesn't mean I'm gay. (Not that its a bad thing - I have a few gay friends and acquaintences on my very diverse list of friends and acquaintences)

Anyway, Yeah, we went to Hooters twice in a month. So the first time was Father's Day. We were driving back from LA. The FP did a brunch gig in Manhattan Beach. Very lovely area. So on the way back, he mentioned Hooters, and I said, yeah that would be okay. So that was the trigger. I don't know if you've ever noticed, but there are a lot of orange clay roofs in Orange County. And Hooters happens to be orange also. So every orange thing on the interstate caught the FP's eye because he was trolling for Hooters. I was afraid he was going to get into a car crash looking for the damn place. Alas, I think we had already passed the OC Hooters when we thought of eating there. So he had to wait till we got to Mission Valley to eat. And I swear, we got there in record time.

So we got there around 2 or 3, and there weren't many people there. Out of the whole restaurant, it looked like 1/3 of the clientele were fathers and families celebrating father's day. That was nice to see. Take horny old dad out to his fave joint so he can talk to a bunch of girls in tight orange shorts and scrunchy socks.

So we ordered. I got 10 three mile island wings - extra wet. The FP got 20 I think, but his were 911. There was a bit of confusion when he ordered. He asked for extra wing sauce on the side. So I said do you want extra sauce and extra wet? And at the same time the Hootergirl asked if he wanted wing sauce instead of a blue cheese sauce. He didn't really know what was going on, so he just said yes. So I had to translate - vagina to vagina. So we got extra blue cheese sauce and veggies, and his wing sauce on the side, and we ordered curly fries too. And I'm sure we had beers too. So the food came pretty fast, and two other Hooter girls delivered the goods.

I don't remember any of their names - I should have taken the paper towel that they wrote their names on. You know what I'm talking about? C'mon. You've never been to Hooters? Liar! Oh, just for take out? Right. You don't go to look at the girls, you go for the food? Actually, that's how we are. Anyway, that's what the Food Pimp says. Well, he actually says he doesn't look at the girls because it seems wrong. Like they are underage or something. In fact, our Hooter girl had some serious junk in the trunk. I mean, she was some white girl with blond hair, and she had this 3D ass out of nowhere. It was very unexpectedly shocking. But I couldn't get the FP to look at her butt. I guess it's embarrassing when your wife's trying to get you to look at some younger girl's ass.

Getting back to the food. Our fries never came. But our blue cheese sauce and veggies were all the sides we needed. I was quite satiated with my extra wet wings, as the FP was satiated with his wet wings and extra sauce to slather on at will. Mine were not quite hot enough, but almost. But they were perfectly saucy, yet still crispy. The weird thing about this Mission Valley Hooters is, the sauce just is not as hot as it should be. I mean, hot should be hot. That's what I usually get at other Hooters. But Three Mile Island is hot. And I think 911 is more like Three Mile Island level. But anyway, we gobbled them wings up, boy. They were DDeeeeelicious with a capital double D. Or maybe just a nice perky C cup.

And then we were in for a real treat. Lunchtime entertainment. It seems there were a few birthdays. There was a 14 year old boy, a 14 year old girl, a 21 year old boy, and like a 3 or 4 year old. So they "spanked" them with a paddle - how many times depended on how old they were. After the obligatory spanks, some of the other girls slapped them on the butt as well. Except for the little kid. They didn't spank him. Then they made all the boys stand in the middle of a circle surrounded by Hooter girls. The birthday girl stood outside with the Hooters girls (future applicant?) They did the hokey pokey, except they changed the lyrics - you put your left wing in... you put your scrunchy sock in... you put your name tag in (why not, you put your left Hooter in?) put your orange shorts in. It was so much entertainment!

Anyway, we went back home and vegged in front of the TV for the rest of the afternoon/evening/night.

So then last weekend we went to Hooter's again. It was after the EuroCup Final. So again, we were there about the same time on a Sunday. I think we ordered the same thing with less confusion. Our server was on her break, so some other girl took our order for her. I asked this girl if she was from New Orleans and she said she had family there that she had visited. When she walked away, the FP asked how I knew. I said it was on her shirt. Maybe he really doesn't look at these chicks.

Anyway, our food came out pretty fast. And we got curly fries this time. It was hotter! Like I think mine fit the description of Three mile island and his were 911. My dehydrated chapped lips felt the burn, in a good masochistic way! So the FP pretty much devoured his. I got a box for my leftovers and he asked why. He said we wouldn't eat those. I took them anyway. The next day, I saw the empty Hooters box in the trash can.....

I give this Hooters......\/\/\/\ seven chompsticks. I can't give 8 because usually the sauce doesn't quite live up to its description. But the way the wings are fried are pretty damn close to perfection!