Friday night we had to attend a surprise surprise party. I say “surprise” surprise party – because we had no idea we were to attend until that day. In Burbank. At Hooters.

If going to Burbank isn’t bad enough…going to Hooters is the icing.

Ugh.

Hooters: marginally attractive women in nylons, teeny orange short-shorts, and white tank tops. And let us not forget the white sports socks and high-tops. I really don’t care about the exploitation of women – I just find the actual outfits horrendous on every possible level. Who thinks that is sexy?

Maybe it was a novelty back in the day…like, “oooh look a sexy waitress!?” But, most chi-chi fancy ass bars already have incredibly gorge waitresses wearing next to nothing. At least here in LA. And Vegas. And probably New York. Definitely San Francisco. Even Sacramento.

Hell I show more (and better) cleavage than some of those chicks did.

We tried to show for the surprise, but of course since it was in BURBANK we were several hours late. (Traffic. Friday. Just don’t bother.) So when we arrive the place is packed with all manner of mid-20s to late-30s suburban middle class males – i.e. lots of “No Fear” t-shirts and caps. I think I might have even spotted an Oakley sticker on a car outside. How 1989 all over again.

We end up being squashed into a corner next to the service entrance. The wife of the Surprised Birthday Man was wearing one of the top 10 worst outfits I’ve ever seen. Now, in theory it’s not so bad. And she’s an attractive woman. It’s just a perfect case of using too many ingredients and ruining the recipe – black batwing sleeve top with plunging neckline (I think all civilian women that go to Hooters put their own Hooters on display – I know I did, not about to be shown up by some 19-year old trying to pay off her Camaro), black corset (yes, I said corset, worn outside), and black cigarette pants. Not bad per se. Just that anyone who doesn’t do runway for a living shouldn’t be caught dead wearing a corset over their street clothes. Ever. Mmmkay? Plus she’d just chopped her hair super short and died it black – I’m talking about ½ inch long sort of short. Cropped. Buzzed. So this quite pretty woman ended up looking like a Boot Camp Goth. (However, her hair was really pretty cute though.)

I guess I was sort of continuing the boot camp trend, though; I wore a frayed army jacket over a black camisole and a new denim skirt, red sling-back pointy heels, and a funky handmade bag. I liked it, but maybe I was going for the Hippie Boot Camp look. I dunno.

Somewhere around midnight we left. Aside from the friendly company it was kind of lame. Oh, and the music was too loud to hear the person on the other side of the table – “ooh Micky you’re so fine” really needn’t be so loud.

Saturday I got a pedicure and tried to recover from the gazillion glasses of cheap Hooters wine I consumed. Never go to the grocery store hung-over and starving. I spent $150 and I have no idea what the fuck I bought. I’d best not have to go to the store for months and months though!

Sunday I “called in sick on life” and skipped the usual football drunkathon at the local bar and instead spent the day wallowing in my own filth on the sofa watching Law & Order re-runs. So glamorous.

But all told…was a nice weekend.