Thursday, August 09, 2007

Good Wife

I am a good wife. And it’s not because I make sure Slag’s socks are clean or the bed sheets are ironed or have a hot dinner on the table when he gets home from work. Because I don’t do any of those things.

I’m a good wife because I regularly consent to eat at Hooters whenever Slag and Skiver have a craving for hot wings. That’s right, I willingly eat dinner surrounded by pert, firm, twenty-year-old, size 4 asses. It’s a real joy. The asses are barely covered in orange nylon shorts that are two-sizes-too-small and are accompanied by a pair of tits that are just barely contained in a matching, two-sizes-too-small tank top. And, of course, there’s the obligatory dumpy, 40-ish, lecherous, manager guy who’s giddy with power. Girls like these never gave him the time of day when he was their age, and he’s all goose-pimply over the fact that now they have to be nice to him and do what he says. He doesn’t even try to hide his leering.

Skiver and Slag both swear that Hooters wings are the best wings that can be had. I’m skeptical, but I don’t eat hot wings, so I can't say for sure. I can’t think of any other reason Skiver would want to go there though. It’s not for the tits and asses, and I know it’s not the “beer light” décor either. And, while I know Slag appreciates a firm butt as much as the next guy, either he’s telling the truth about the hot wings or is very sneaky, because I’ve never caught him so much as giving a twenty-year-old ass a sideways glance. The hot wings have his complete attention at all times.

I can tolerate the dining experience because the guys I'm with don't give the girls a whole lot of attention and also because the girls do give me the tiniest bit of distance and respect, i.e. they don’t seem to waggle their boobies in the faces of my male dinner companions nearly as much as they waggle them at the men-only tables. They don’t sit down at our table and laugh too much and flip their hair. I guess I should be grateful that they can see that, yes, I'm also female. An older, larger, more wrinkled female, but a female nonetheless. Or maybe they don't want to annoy me out of fear that I'll grab one of them and sit on her and break her tiny little bird-like bones.

BTW, if you ever visit a Hooters, don’t get the Cobb salad. It sucks.

11 Comments:

Blogger Stucco said...

Ironed sheets?

11:49 PM  
Blogger Schmoopie said...

In Slag's defense, I have heard that the wings are the best. I want to try them. Maybe I can get them to go?

The last line of your post made me laugh out loud. I think Stucco jumped.

12:53 AM  
Blogger Jill said...

stucco, I'm not making that up. I remember my mom ironing sheets when I was a kid.

schmoopie, "To go" is an excellent idea. Maybe I'll suggest that to Slag the next time he wants wings. :)

9:07 AM  
Blogger Jazz said...

You are indeed a good wife. A very good wife.

2:58 PM  
Blogger Whippersnapper said...

I've never been to Hooters, but that guy I live with once had to make an emergency stop there to use the facilities to change the baby's diaper. I said, "Did the male bathroom have a changing table?" and he said, "No."

He didn't mention the wings.

9:37 PM  
Blogger Cheesy said...

Oh lawrd I wish I could get pics of that [female sit fight] lol! I love wings but alas we don't have a Hooters.. I'm sure if we did the guys from work would drag me there!

[I have to say I HAVE ironed sheets.. but for ME]

8:24 AM  
Blogger Evil Spock said...

Since I don't eat meat, I don't have to go to Hooters. Ah, the joys of being a veggie. I actually dislike Hooters immensely. I might as well go to a strip club if I want titillation.

I don't go to strip clubs anymore either, and not because I'm some overly-sensitive person, its because they bore the hell out of me because I got to see what its like behind the scenes.

10:31 AM  
Blogger Em said...

You are a very understanding wife. My wife makes great wings, so I've got no reason to visit. At least that is what she tells me.

12:02 PM  
Blogger Kara said...

Nevermind the misogynist atmosphere. What's with that fucking shade of orange? Could it be anymore traffic conesque? What's wrong with a nice burnt sienna or a subtle shade of pumpkin? Seriously...these kinds of colors cause eye bleeds...great wings or no.

12:29 PM  
Blogger Jocelyn said...

I love this post, and thanks for steering me away from that Cobb Salad.

Your men, and you, are light years more mature than most Hooters patrons, I'd wager.

10:29 PM  
Blogger Jill said...

jazz, I think I'm getting close to "martyr" status.

whippersnapper, I'm not surprised. It's not the most progressive establishment in town.

cheesy, I'm sure I could take the whole wait staff in a "sitting" fight.

evil spock, you've been behind the scenes at a strip club?? Sounds like that could be a very interesting post....

em, Making your wings herself is an excellent strategy for a woman who doesn't mind cooking. I don't think that would work for me, because nobody is willing to eat my cooking.

kara, Totally agree. All the booths, chairs and bar stools in the place are upholstered in the same obnoxious orange too. Bleah.

jocelyn, I hope they are, but I'd love to be a fly on the wall when they go without me.

10:19 AM  

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