Inexplicably, three of my friends and I ended up at the Fisherman's Wharf Hooters in San Francisco last week after we got our iPhones.
We actually went there for the food--no, really. We wanted buffalo wings, and where else to go but Hooters? Anyway, the usual siren-like charm of the waitresses went unnoticed by us. From my understanding of how it works at Hooters, usually the customers fawn over the waitresses, who are the objects of desire. Well, this day it was the complete opposite, since the ogled became the oglers as soon as we whipped out our objects … Read more