H( o )( o )TERS is E\/IL.

Maybe I don't take criticism well.  Maybe I like singling acquaintances out for the sake of laughs.  Maybe I'm just an asshole.  Whatever you want to chalk it up to, the following post has been written because someone didn't like my post about Florida (her home) and she was quite vocal about it.  So I did a little research (looked at one picture of her) and it turns out she works/worked at Hooters.

That's right, Hooters.  The end all, be all of sluttress chains.  A restaurant where you can feast upon real American food, watch sports, get hammered and stare at sluttresses all night.

A sluttress is a waitress who is purposefully hired for her assets (those being her tits and ass).  For those of you who disagree that Hooters is a sluttress chain, I will kindly ask you to teabag/vag-pound an electrical fence.  Hooters was named Hooters specifically because fuck yes, tits.  And if you disagree with THAT, then I ask you to read the following:

1. My job duties require I wear the designated Hooters Girl uniform.
2. My job duties require that I interact with and entertain the customers.
3. The Hooters concept is based on female sex appeal and the work environment is one in which joking and entertaining conversations are commonplace.
4. I do not find my job duties, uniform requirements, or work environment to be offensive, intimidating, hostile, or unwelcome.

Those are the four statements a female must agree to in ink before becoming an employee of Hooters.  Therefore, my calling you a sluttress falls under #3 because #4, baby.

No, no, I jest.  Any waitress who agrees to put on a refrigerated shirt for a wet T-shirt contest shouldn't be called a sluttress...  EYEAHRIGH.

In the Hooters handbook they refer to their breastaurant as "showbusiness," that women should embody glamour and there shouldn't be any unique qualities on the women shown (tattoos, stylized hair, colored hair, etc.).  In other words, "Welcome to Hooters, T&A #1035a1!  Please stuff yourself into these tiny clothes and let these men torment you because we're America."

Butt, whatever, right?  If a gal has the mamaloogas to stuff in a white shirt and the cheeks to wedge orange shorts between for a living, let her!  It's her own dignity to do with it what she pleases.  Fine, I agree.  Ass, don't come preaching about how fantastic Hooters is as an employer because they are not.  Boobers is a place you go to set genders back decades at a time (not that I have ANY problem with that).



I just find it escruciatingly hard to trust a company that makes a requirement out of measuring your bust during the interview process.  Is that so bad?  No, it ain't!  And Hooters does do a lot for the community, I mean they donate to various charities, fight breast cancer (because that's the only sickness that'll cut into profits) and even support the troops...  By sending pictures of sluttresses.  The calendars might as well come with a jar of vasoline.  All this giving back Hooters does really makes you forget that their own CEO ignored sexual harrassment or that their airline is completely fucked up or how they encourage sluttresses to be prostitutresses.  But what do you expect from a franchise that was built on two, perfect mounds?  Ethical decisions?

And, let's face it, at the end of the day, you aren't really selling food - you're selling tittays, Hooters.  No one goes to a bikini bar just to drink, no one goes to a Hooters just to eat.  Hooters makes out like a bandit, too, because these waitresses are selling their tits at less than a Hooters burger per hour.  Bikini bar babes make a wee bit more than that.  And for those of you who might argue that a bikini bar is different from a Hooters, I kindly ask you to refrain - because I thought of that already.  Duh. 

The only difference between a bikini bar and a Hooters is the lighting.  Both serve alcohol, both have sexy women serving you, both do not allow nudity or public fondling (like strip clubs).  Sure, bikini bars have bikinis - but Hooters has televisions and teenage girls working there.  So you weigh the options.

Coincidentally, the birthplace of the bikini bar and Hooters can be traced back to western Florida.

Fuck Florida.