Hooters
Discussed in the Honda CR-V the other day...
I was taking my son across town to Wal-Mart (the old crumbling one, not the new one under construction. The new UberCenter won't be ready until shopping season arrives [November 25 - December 24]).
We pulled up behind a black Ford pickup truck and on the rear sliding window it had a sticker that read: "My Other Toy Has Hooters". Ryan, being 10 and carefully shielded by his overprotective mother and slightly exasperated, eyeball-rolling father, asked the question.
"What are hooters, Mom?"
I stared at the truck in front of me, silently wishing we had stopped behind a Ford that was content enough to only sport the cartoon character Calvin peeing on the Chevy symbol. There's no underlying 'The dick makes me superior' agenda in that one, just a sincere dislike of the competition.
"They're boobs, hon."
Ryan was quiet for a second. "You mean like Hooters restaurant?"
"Uh-huh. That's what they specialize in. Wings, beer, and waitresses with very little clothing and big boobs."
"Oh."
I could see his mind reconstructing the definition of 'boobs': 1) Soft lumps of varying sizes located on the chest of females. 2) Something Mom gripes about getting in the way of her golf swing.
3) Apparently ranked the same as X-Box and Pickup Trucks as Valuable Toys for Men.
"It's not a nice thing to say about your wife or girlfriend, hon," I said.
"I see those a lot around town."
"Yep. But it's a free country."
Ryan looked at me. "Well, I don't much about hooters, but I do know I'll never put that on my truck."
God, I love my son!
posted by A.M.Adams @ 9/09/2005 01:04:00 PM
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