Tuesday, October 25, 2005


My 19 year old son Ice-J and his eighteen year old fiance Shayna were in town this weekend looking for jobs. I offered to take them to a scary haunted house and out to eat. Pretty harmless I thought..........what could go wrong?

Anyone who knows me, knows Tallulah LOVES scary. Scary movies. Scary costumes. The more scary, the more merry. This Haunted House had it's thang down! It was dark, full of eerie images and monsters popping out. They took you in groups of six and everyone wanted me to go first. Ok. Fine. I'm not scared.

But somehow I ended up being last. Maybe because the people in my group were practically jumping on top of me after every scare. Then I discovered that being last is not best. The scary monsters end up coming behind you and grabbing you when you think all is clear in the dark and oh so foggy rooms. Two times........I ALMOST peed my pants. To get Tallulah to pee her pants is nearly impossible unless:

A. You are Satan
B. You have been possessed by Satan and are doing nasty things with a cross.
C. You have a gun and you say you are going to blow my brains out.

Up until Saturday, I thought these were the only incidents that might invoke loss of bladder control..........

So where do the hooters come in? Did Tallulah decide to flash some guy dressed up in a Freddy Kruger costume? No. Worse. Much worse.............

Shayna being of young mind had been telling me all weekend that she wanted to go to the restaurant HOOTERS. God knows why. So I surprised Shayna and Ice-J (and myself) by taking them there for dinner. Was I high? Had I sniffed too many black markers that day? I think so.......

First and foremost, this is clearly a guy establishment. The food is total bar food and bad, really really bad. Second, there were maybe five female customers in the entire restaurant. Women aren't hanging out there for the ambiance. They obviously have jerk husbands or boyfriends that enjoy taking them to a place where they can watch their significant other salivate all over his paper napkin. Third, the women didn't have big breasts. No lie. Even me, a moderate A cup or small B cup on good days could use one of those push-up bras from Victoria Secrets and get the same effect.

Your server greets you at your table by leaning over and giving you eye contact and saying, "Hi! My name is Stephanie and I'll be your server tonight" while she writes her name on a paper napkin. Am I wrong by saying anyone can have cleavage when they are leaning down in a low cut tight shirt?

And remember the silky short shorts that people like Farrah Faucett wore in the seventies and early eighties? These are the kind of super short shorts that you must where OVER a pair of nylons. Good God! I'm not sure who was more scary.......the Hooters chicks with orange polyester stuck up their ass or the costume clad zombies at the Haunted House. I'm guessing that guys think differently and would strongly disagree. Three men at the table next to us left our server a $250.00 tip. It just goes to prove that guys really do think with the lower half of their bodies.

All in all.........a very interesting weekend.

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