Well call off that exhaustive search, because you’ve struck (greasy) oil!
Yes, tell mom to put on her Sunday best, because nothing says quality, fancy and dignified like Hooters! Yes, Hooters, the purveyor of top-notch eats that satisfy a foodie’s palette more than humblebragging about their Yelp.com review.
So when you saunter into Hooters, mother in tow, be proud that you took the woman, that carried you in her body for 9 months, underwent hours of painful, pelvis-crushing labor to give birth to you, and put up with your crap for at least 18 years, to the restaurant given three stars by Urbanspoon in Seattle!
Oh, Hooters. Your wood-paneled walls and silicone-paneled waitresses are the perfect backdrop to show the primary caregiver in your life your eternal gratitude. Your high-top wood tables all a-clutter with paper towel rolls and wet-naps display a level of preparedness for the bar food that your bowels will regret in hours, and your mother will regret immediately.
The ’80s power ballads ringing through your ears will simulate the harried screams that your lifegiver hurled towards the sky as your umbilical cord-connected body squeezed out of her vagina like an arm trapped in a Pringles can.
See waitresses are trying their damnedest to tame the bile in their livers when hit on and/or groped by the slovenly middle-aged guy in a trucker hat and shirt as drenched in questionable stains as those “Nearly World Famous” chicken wings!
Add a cherry on top of this winning sundae by requesting a bottle of Korbel champagne to your order! And you get 10 free wings, to boot? HOLY SHIT!
Hooters! Mother’s Day! Show the most important woman in your life HOW. MUCH. YOU. CARE!