In July, America's finest Hooters Girls will gather at the newly renovated Planet Hollywood Casino in Las
Vegas, where the one who best fills out a bikini will be given the coveted title of Miss Hooters International.
But first, the Hooters Girls from Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio, and Tennessee had to show their goods to a crowd of drunken idiots under a giant tent in a parking lot in Louisville.
I, although not drunk, was in that tent. Only in the name of research, of course. Here are some observations.
-The photo was taken off the internets
. It's from last year's event, but not a lot has changed. The skimpy bikinis, fake boobs, and bleach-blond hair were in full effect yet again. Thank god.
-The bikini contest was judged by a number of "celebrities" I had never heard of before. The one exception was Hall of Fame basketball coach Denny Crum.
I don't know how I feel about a Hall of Famer
of any kind judging a bikini contest. It's kind of like Cal Ripken
at a seedy Baltimore Asian Spa paying for a rub-n-tug; or Joe Montana walking bow-legged out of a Bay Area bathhouse. It just seems wrong.
-Why wasn't I drunk? I had two quick Blue Moon beers inside the restaurant, but outside the event was sponsored by Budweiser, so I had a choice between Swill, Swill Light,
and Swill Select.
I chose the Swill Select,
which must have been "selected" from Satan's diverticulitic
colon. In the true American spirit of drinking while watching hot chicks in bikinis, I did manage to down a few of those fermented abortions, but it wasn't easy.
-Who could almost ruin a Hooters Bikini Contest? The local butt-rock radio station, that's who. First they hired a hair-metal tribute band to play before the flesh parade began. These guys were horrible, and had the three ugliest groupies I've ever seen. In fact, I think the groupies were asked to disperse by local authorities, as their combined repulsiveness broke several civic ordinances.
Also, they brought along the two obnoxious, unfunny morning DJs
. Why do these morons insist on screaming into a microphone? The microphone was invented for the expressed purpose of amplifying
the human voice. Speak normally into it and it is your friend. Since Sam Kinison is dead, no non-singer needs to scream into a fucking microphone.
There will be two regional representatives in Vegas. The second will be chosen on June 1st. I have until then to steal the hair metal band's equipment, rip out the voice boxes of the DJs, and think of a way to sneak in some drinkable beer.