A few years ago, when Hooters first came to Ottawa, I thought it would be entertaining to see what all the fuss was about.
A male companion and I sat down at a table, and after a long wait a cute blond waitress skipped over to us. I admired her fit body clad in tiny tight sports shorts (the kind I had worn when I was sixteen) and her tight little wife beater t-shirt with the trademark protruding owl eyes design. She placed both elbows on the table, leaned over and cleverly aimed her tits at us.
"And what can I bring you folks today," she giggled smacking her gum.
She took our order and as she wiggled off I looked at my companion curious about his reaction.
"It's all just an act you know. She's a university student trying to earn an honest living," he stuttered as I noticed the deep blush on his face.
