Dinner At The Hooters House

Every time we told someone that DC and I were going to the Hooters house because they were cooking us dinner, they made the most original joke in the history of humankind. "Are they cooking you wings?" HAHAHAHAHAHA oh my God you're a genius! How did you even think of that joke its so complex! Its like you finished War and Peace, skimmed the Wall Street Journal, filmed a documentary about agrarian precapitalism and the capital forming effects of military mobilization, and THEN came up with the punchline. Touche salesman, touche.

So anyway I was enjoying some wings over at the Hooters house... oh man now I'm a funny guy too. Here's what really happened:

I get out of work at 8pm. DC and I have to be at the house by 9pm, otherwise something weird happens like their horse-drawn carriage turns back into a double-wide. We leave around 8:40 because he wants to stop at the stadium and grab a couple of beers for the road - some of the other teams in his soccer league had a game. None of you have ever been to this stadium and most of you will never go, but it is located in the straight up ghetto. Seeing as how I'm a white boy in a striped button up and I forgot to bring my non-existent gun, I opted to stay in the safari.

After circling the stadium three times with no sign of DC, I started to draw attention to myself. A white kid in a button up at a soccer game full of locals is an awkward situation. It is however trumped when you are a white kid making the same four left turns in the ghetto. People start to notice you. I decide I'm just going to park by the entrance and wait it out. Just as I did, Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" came on the radio. Considering the situation, I decided the radio should be off.

Right as I'm pulling away to do another lap, DC comes out. It turns out the lady tried charging him $5 per beer when they are really $2 and he had to get his team out of the crowd to vouch for him and it was just a whole big mess. Anyway, we get to the Hooters house at exactly 8:58. We are welcomed by an already drunk Rae Rae, a non-drinking Nicole, a cute yet to be named bleached-blond Hooters girl, and three dudes. One is the manager of the Hooters, and I'm pretty sure the other two work in the kitchen.

Nicole made dinner, which she said took two and a half hours to make. To be fair I believe her and it tasted good, but it was spaghetti in a red sauce. Maybe the water was boiling for two hours and fifteen minutes and she was counting that. I was a little disappointed - here are two girls from Mississippi and we are eating pasta. I was expecting blackened catfish, maybe some mud bugs, collard greens - some serious southern food.

The night turns from dinner to music, which was once again an awakening experience. Nicole dedicated "I'm on a Boat" to Slim, the seven foot black guy from West Virginia, and he had never heard it. Most of them had never heard it. Like I said earlier - its a black hole at the Hooters house. I was baffled nobody knew who The Lonely Island was. I was further shocked by the number of jokes DC and I were making to each other about everyone else that they were just not understanding. Be careful with those big words, people get lost.