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Hooters Ho Down

We were driving by the Harley shop the other day and down the street is a Hooters--Harley's and Hooters what more could a guy want--anyways it totally reminded me of this total random experience I had with a Hooters girl. (sounds good huh).

A few years ago we were shopping and there was a tent sale in the parking lot of the mall, and to draw attention there was a dunk tank fill with hooters girls, music, and free food. Apparently their marketing worked because we went over to the tents to see what was happening. I was mainly there for the free food yeah, Tim ummm. . . only teasing.

Anyways the guys kept bugging Tim to try to dunk the Hooters girls, and reluctantly he agreed. He was given three pitches, and the poor guy must have been distracted and he missed all three times, I can't imagine what could have been so distracting hmmm. The guys then turn to me and look at this scrawny little 105lbs, while soaking wet wearing a parka, little girl and kind of smile knowing there would be no way I could pitch a hit of death.

They put there arms around me like a little child and softly explain how to throw a ball and walked me up a little closers because they doubted I could throw that far. . . Now normally I would never try to get a gorgeous girl wearing short shorts and a white tee shirt soaking wet in front of children, but after being being treated like a poor, helpless child, oh and being bribed with the chance to win some really great prizes I stepped up to the plate.

I was given five pitches--being so hopeless and all, and BAM first pitch there was a Hooters Ho Down. Now with shock and amazement the crowd goes wild with praise and applause--not for my amazing pitching skills I'm sure, but because here was this busty girl drenched from head to toe because of me--sorry lady.

Little did these jerks know they were looking at a small package of dynamite--can you tell I was a cheerleader, oh and I had forgotted to mention I played baseball since I was five and happen to play position of a pitcher. Lol looks definitely can be deceiving. The guy opens up his envelope of prizes and hands me $50.00 to eat at, any guess? HOOTERS. Totally Hilarious.

We took the Harley to Hooters the following week, and my in laws were furious at me explaining I was a bad wife, and I don't know if you have ever been to Hooters, but it was impossible to spend $50.00 in one night on just food, even with how much I eat, so we bought a few souvenirs, a shirt for Tim, and of course the infamous short shorts for me. Eight years later I'm pleased to announce I must not be as terrible as a wife as thought because Tim still keeps me around.

Good Times.

* picture credit from Google images.

Arachnophobia is an understatement

So a few weeks ago I saw this huge vicious spider in my laundry room. Of course I screamed like a little girl and booked my little bootie out of there and called Tim—I have him on speed dial for such emergencies. He told me to go kill the punk—men. So I quietly snuck into the laundry room, my best 007 yet, and there he was with his beasty little eyes glaring me down. I grab my laundry basket and started to pulverize the pest. I don’t know how I missed, maybe because I had my eyes tightly closed praying he wouldn’t attack me. So he cowardly hides under my washing machine. I locked the door and refused to go in there until I knew he’s dead, which was kind of nice because I was off of laundry duty for a couple of weeks.

So two days ago Tim proudly shows me his manliness and shows me this dead crusty spider he kept in a cup just for me, yeah. I guess he really wanted me to do some laundry. I was a little disgusted by him keeping it for me, but it was nice to have physical proof that this nightmare was over.

The next day the pest guys come on a Saturday and leave a little note they couldn’t finish the job because of the dog—um it’s Saturday of course we are going to be out and scheduling would be nice, not just showing up, and of course every time I call they say the soonest they could get to me is two weeks. Grrrrr. We need new people pronto.

So I go on my merry little way being a good house wife and as I reach on the side of my refrigerator to grab the dust pan I see my good old buddy waiting to sample some of my finger food. Furiously I run into my closet pull out my knee high black heeled boots, if I’m going to die today I’m going to look good doing so, and I stomp back into the kitchen. The girls are whistling at me asking me if I have a hot date and I tell them to eat their lunch on top of the table.

Tim must have sensed something was going on and he called me at that very moment and I ask him where the bug spray is and I began shooting him like crazy. He’s not dying and now charging towards me I should have just step on him but Tim wanted me to save him so he could find out what kind of spider it was. I’m freaking out and still squirting and screaming over the phone he’s not dying and I’m almost out of spay, and Tim starts yelling at me that the poison is super strong and I should have only squirted him once, and to open all the windows and leave the room immediately. Umm I guess I should have asked him before I started my royal rumble.

I get all the girls in the bath and take a shower open all the windows and leave the house, but then I had to go to work. I had Tim scrub the floors and I trashed all the food on the counters.
I didn’t even think about spraying poison in our kitchen I just wanted that sucker dead.

What an expensive extermination. Three loaves of bread, beagles, two boxes of cereal, two packages of sugar, cookies, a tub of peanut butter, and a bowl full of fruit, and I haven’t gotten to the pantry yet---one dead spider

*image credit Google images.