bonny, I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. He and his wife are lucky to have you in their lives.
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
And not very good food.
So. The whole, "I'm just going for the wings" excuse?...
Well admittedly bonny, I'm really not their target customer. Some people probably love their hot wings.
Thank you, dear ones.
Yeah...he was married to another friend of mine (they divorced in 2006) who ended up disowning me for marrying them because that somehow meant I somehow 'betrayed' her.
To be honest, he really was a terrible person at one point. But, in his mid 50s, he got his shit together and built a beautiful life for himself.
I'm praying that this is a character-building bump in their road.
As for Hooters, it's really just a sports bar/restaurant with an unfortunate name. And not very good food.
Too true. And, the one time I was dragged to a Hooters, I couldn't help but notice all the servers were "well endowed", in a manner that seemed, statistically, unnatural. Our server was very chatty & friendly, and not shy. The topic came up, and she said, "Oh, most of us stuff to help the image. Most guys don't notice it, they just see big hooters, and love it" (paraphrase). The food left a LOT to be desired. I'm also not a fan of wings, so can't comment on how good/bad they are. On the whole, it's a sports bar with frat boy decor/atmosphere, bleh food, and tight outfits for the female workers. Short shorts, that are tight, and tight, white t-shirt.
I would not be comfortable going there for a work thing. Or rather, my perception of whoever chose/insisted on it would forever change. (See also Twisted Kilt, or, "Hooters for guys who don't want Hooters showing up on their expense report.")
If the women working there don't mind it, I've got no issues. I've never been to Hooters, but I've been in similar places, and the waitresses seem pleased to chat with someone who isn't there for the "decor." Most of them seemed content to use what God--or whomever--gave them to get bigger tips out of foolish men.
Hubby's biopsy is day after tomorrow. Then the results and a treatment plan a week and a half later. Stress is high in Chez Neil.
I would not be comfortable going there for a work thing. Or rather, my perception of whoever chose/insisted on it would forever change.
Someone I was interviewing for an article wanted to meet (in an area of Louisiana that I didn't know anything about) at a breast-aurant called, I shit you not, Twin Peaks. I didn't quite know what to make of the decision making process that lead to the conclusion that a lady writer you don't know terribly well would be comfortable there.
ETA: much biopsy~ma to the Neil household, Connie.
I feel like a strip club is more legit than hooters. I mean, if you want hooters, fine. But seriously? I like food. If you want to see tits just go to a dang strip club. Or to the Crystal City Restaurant, which is a restaurant and strip club. ;). But I am not a guy. Maybe I just don't get it.