Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

The shock, the awe: the men's room in Hooters...

College football gameday yesterday, so last night I put on my best cheerleader's outfit and headed to Jack's Seafood to pound prawns and PBRs and watch Georgia/ASU and LSU/Auburn, simultaneously, on their two wide screen TVs.

At least, I thought I was going to Jack's. My friend G came to pick me up in his Chevy Tahoe, and once down the driveway surprised me with the announcement that instead, we were going to the Hooters in Conyers, Georgia. Conyers is an exurb on the east side of Atlanta, about 30 miles out but a whole world away. It's the hometown of the actress Holly Hunter, and that's about all it's known for, really.

Except for this Hooters, which at one time held the distinction of having the finest looking female servers in the deep, long, storied history that is Hooters legacy. Times have changed, now, though, and it's not much of a stretch to say that if you put the tight shirt and orange shorts on your humble Nigel, I'd-a-bin the best looking girl there. And I wouldn't have even had to shave my legs to claim that distinction.

One thing Hooters is well known for, besides the nubility and pulchritude allegedly on parade, is their extraordinary gastronomical delicacies. Yes, the minimum wage (but legal!) Mexican immigrants prowling the kitchen really are captains of culinary comfort, and have the ability to turn out a squashed, dried up hamburger and cold curly fries in about 45 minutes. That's 45 minutes, see, timed perfectly to the approximate length of a quarter of televised gridiron. So, you may be hungry when the game starts, but your belly will be full by about halfway through the second quarter. Uncomfortable intestinal rumbling accompanied by odd noises--your stomach starts to sound like a fax machine--commences about the beginning of the third quarter, and you miss the entire fourth quarter because you're squatting, sumo-like, on the one throne they have in men's room. And of course, you can be assured of said throne's anti-bacterial cleanliness, as there's only 750 horny guys in the restaurant and we all know how good men are lifting the seat and all.

Georgia won, and LSU kicked Auburn's tiger ass butt in the last second or so.

Now, because of the toilet thingy, on the way home I asked my friend to stop in the Emergency Room so I could get tetanus shots. And since my buddy is an Auburn alum, while I got my shots in the ER, he was treated for hyperventilation and high blood pressure. Takes his college football pretty seriously, you see.

After that, it was home...then, more ancillary visits to my own bathroom in a vain attempt to void the remainder of the "meal". All in all, a fun-filled evening.

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 6:12 AM