||"dawnbreak in the west"|
Sunday, April 17, 2005
A few years ago, some not-yet-acquaintances asked me to wait up for them at a FM-1960 "Hooter's" restaurant. This was the first time I had set foot into such an establishment; apparently the point is to serve overpriced beer and food to slimy middle-aged men and women by way of underaged and lopsided waitresses. Anyway, I'm just sitting there, getting more annoyed by the minute that my compadres hadn't shown up, and then some little frizzy-haired ditz runs up to my stool and jabbers: "doyouwannabuysomeHootersMERchandise?!"
Some other time, at an Aerosmith concert, a lady of about my height and build stepped into my 'comfort zone' and tried to sell me on "Green Mountain Energy". (This last one got fired from her real job for doing that, or at least for doing that at a concert while "sick" from work. Yay corporate America!)
And then there's last night, at the Surf Shack (a HORRIBLE nightclub, by the way) where two ladies taller than me ask if I "wanna get lei-ed", as in pay for a plastic rope around my neck that announces I've joined the collective. I declined. I got to snicker to myself when I saw some fat loser wearing one; so I came out okay on that one, I figure.
I guess someone told at least the last two about my secret weakness for the tall / voluptuous ones :^P (Perhaps the same someone should tell them that it pisses me off when someone pushes my buttons for selfish advantage.)
Such solicitation of (what they assume are) lonely and insecure men sure reflects badly on these women; but worse, I think, for the slimeballs who fall for it.
Either way, I promise you this: no daughter of mine will ever work in such a capacity.
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