Sunday, August 11, 2013

Hooters: The Breastaurant of Shame

The Hooters business model basically goes something like this:  “Show them some boobs, toss some wings their way, and fill them with beer.  They’ll never want to leave.”  And sure, it’s an effective marketing ploy.  What do dudes like?  Chicken wings, beer, and boobs.  Toss some sports on the TV and you’re in dude-heaven.  There’s only one problem with this:  Eating chicken wings in public is a degrading, disgusting way to spend your time.

The Hooters employees are trained to convince even the sloppiest, fattest, sweatiest, shittiest dudes that they have a chance of banging one of the waitresses.  They always smile at you when you come in, they converse with you in an overly friendly manner, and they sit down at your table to take your order (because, y’know, you guys are friends).  The guy then nervously recites his order while trying not to stare directly into her cleavage.  She walks away and the dudes talk about her boobs.  Standard shit.

Girl bout to dunk her hair in the ranch.

But then the chicken wings come out and all of that friendly fraternizing turns against you.  You can try to eat chicken wings without being covered in sauce and grease, looking like a three-year-old after trying to eat spaghetti, but you will fail.  Every time.  You will be covered in shit and you will look like shit.  And then, when the mega-hot ladies start walking past you as you slurp down a chunk of meat hanging from the bone, the very same ones that you thought you had a chance of banging, you will start to feel like shit.

There’s a lot that can be said of the degradation that the waitresses at such an establishment (which has been coined a “Breastaurant” by a friend of mine) but I would like to argue that the customers share in the humiliation as well.  But our humiliation is worse because we not only choose to experience it, but we pay for it as well.  At least the girls that work there can say, “Yeah, it’s humiliating at times, but at least I can pay the rent.”  All we can do is try to pretend like it isn’t an emasculating experience and then high-five about boobs or sports or ranch dressing or something.

Tragically, this isn’t the experience that every guy has when dining at a breastaurant.  There are guys that are able to hold onto the idea that the waitresses want to sleep with them as they sloppily eat their food without a second thought to how immature the entire experience really is.  And these are the guys that make the world suck.  So much cologne that you can’t even smell the wings.  Puts his arm around the waitress while his friend takes a shitty picture.  Pretends to like soccer.  You know what I’m talking about.

Obviously, since Hooters has been open for thirty years or whatever, this tragic flaw in their dining experience hasn’t hindered them to a debilitating degree.  We can probably chalk this up to the fact that chicken wings are fucking awesome, and guys will put up with anything to look at some boobs.  Throw some beer into the mix and all bets are off.  Guy might straight up put his house up for auction to extravagantly tip a waitress because they “know” each other and he feels they have a “deep connection.”  Basically, we’re dumb.  But that’s nothing new.

You can just about hear his sweat.

Chicken wings should be served exclusively to tables with a curtain around it so nobody can see the disgusting things occurring within.  The animalistic ritual of de-boning some meat and sucking it down with your bare hands.  It’s awful and makes you feel like a caveman.  And maybe that’s what makes it so good:  It’s a return to our roots.  You can get yourself a fancy encrusted salmon with blah blah blah on the side and use a fork and knife the whole time, never spilling a crumb onto your lapel.  Or you can roll up your sleeves and eat some fucking meat.  Tearing tendons and dipping skin into blue cheese.  Like a MAN.  Add some tits to that experience and you have Hooters, the house of humiliation that will never go out of business as long as we can still see the sun during the day and electricity is still available at night.


  1. I can 100% guarantee that whoever wrote this is very very ugly and unintelligent, sorry for your luck disgusting, insecure dude with no friends. The Hooters employees must have convinced you; the sloppiest, fattest, sweatiest, shittiest dude that they have ever seen, that you had a chance of banging one of them. We hope that the sun never shines again and that electricity isn't available at night so that we may never see your filthy filthy face again! Basically, you’re dumb. But that’s nothing new!

    1. This is great on so many levels.

    2. Has the ring of truth. I just went to the only one in the UK. Didn't rise to the bait, didn't stare at waitresses arse except when she deliberately bends over in front of me, etc. Finally get bill, all smiles. I don't smile much.
      Not looking at her, I give her a chance to use her (scripted) "wits".

      She had dabbed some posh perfume on her body..

      "I'm getting a scent. What is it?"

      Quick as a flash:


  2. Anonymous has a PhD in "missing the point". What's up doc? Lulz roflcopters pwned...