I fingered about 1000-words of witty repartee on the pageant, but -- and it's true -- my touch-typing and my other reflexes hit a big delete before I finished. So, if you want to, at least, see what you missed, and not hear a horny wise-guy, you'll have to go to this luscious link. There's also about 150 photos for your menu. My advice: pick one from each column and enjoy the Hooters smorgasbord. Watch the pageant and special features until you go blind, or find a new side of your special other.
The below is from the memory images indelibly on the inside of my eyelids.
Believe me, a connoisseur, it's far better than the skinnies at the Victoria Secret TV show. And, no veils to hide behind, just all teenie bikinis.
One-hundred were chosen from the 4,000 Hooter girls in 26-countries. Of the hundred, 3 were A-cups, 10 B-cups, and 10 C-cups. Do the math, and if you can keep your mind and imagination from wandering, that leaves 67 --er, 77 -- with a D, who will have to do detention with the teacher. Any PhDs out there to volunteer? Flowers instead of ivy.
The field of dreams was cut to ten, two A-cups, two B-cups, and six Ds for detention, maybe a spanking. The choice of the four who escape discipline reflects the over-the-hill two cougars among the judges, trying to cut the competition in the wee-drunk hours perhaps.
Five dark hair and five blondes, so diversity rules. Speaking of which, my vote is for equal opportunity, so my id tips for tall, D, Black, LeAngela Davis. (OK, political types, she is probably named after a communist, but I'm willing to be her comrade for this cause.)
Then there were five (and 95 winners at the stage door to provide a shoulder and a Jag to console). An IQ test in bikinis: don't bother listening to the girls, just look interested. (best advice="don't eat yellow snow"; best talent="pour beer and hoola-hoop at same time" -- bet someone will lick the spill)
A special insight. The girls use "butt-glue" to keep their bitty bikini bottom from creeping up and going Indian to wipe them out.
And, my favorite commisar, and the judges', Miss World Hooter, goes to looking great globally, LeAngela Davis. From Columbus, Ohio. I didn't know there was so much booty buried there (though I dug up a golden C there one business trip, probably a groovy grannie by now). Go exploring and dig it.
Here she is:
I haven't been in a Hooters for lunch in about 15 years. Tomorrow, I'm taking my 5-year old chick-magnet Gavin, former champion breast-feeder, to a special lunch.
BTW, last years winner took her support to the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. I bet they saluted in every way.
