Fat Asian Baby

Believe it or not, FAB has friends. Friends that get kicked out of Hooters, god bless 'em. Which reminds us of the time back in college when we actually applied for a job at Hooters. Because we needed money. And, well, because it's Hooters. Ya know? Anyway, we presented ourselves at Hooters in midtown Manhattan and were asked to fill out an application, which surprisingly enough, looks much like any other job application. FAB enthusiastically filled out the form and waited patiently to speak to the manager. But then we starting to hyperventilate just a little at the sight of those crazy orange shorts that seem to be standard issue at Hooters establishments throughout the country*. The manager finally came by and said they were swamped and could we come back with the application tomorrow at 10AM. We said ok and never came back. Really. Who gets up at that hour anyway? And to go to Hooters, no less?
Fret not, my pets, the famed Hooters job application had a fulfilling and raucous career on the door of ViaGina and Ellen's dorm room that year. FAB thinks they just liked the juxtaposition of the giant Hooters logo and the part of the application asks about education, special honors and employment history and we dutifully printed: Columbia University, National Merit Scholar Finalist and Salomon Smith Barney, Private Portfolio Group respectively.

*This was our first and only trip to a Hooters, mind you. FAB had no idea about the orange shorts.