Chowhound turns 17

My baby is growing up. So many changes. The biggest change this year was in the choice of his birthday dinner. I have always let my children choose their birthday dinner.

When Chowhound was little it was Chucky Cheese. We would climb through the tunnels, play in the balls, and dance to the silly characters. I was so grateful when he grew past that stage.

For a few years it was homemade spaghetti. He changed it to meatloaf when he found out his brothers hated meatloaf. Once a year he would have the upper hand on his older brothers.

Then, a few years ago we started going to Shoguns, a Japanese restaurant. We would sit at the hibachi tables, banging our fists on the tables, catching shrimp in our mouths, and listening to the same silly jokes year after year.

Now this year he announced he wanted to go to Hooters. Yeah, my baby is growing up. No longer entertained by a giant rat or Japanese cooks. No, he wants the hooter girls. So, we went. All three boys wanted to go. Imagine that.

Our waitress was the poster girl for Blondes Unlimited. Naturally, a petite, endowed blonde little chickie. Right away it was obvious she was not hired for her brains. A friend of mine lent me her camcorder for my trip next week. I brought the manual into the restaurant to review while I was waiting on the other boys.

The waitress looks at the manual and says, "Oh, I have one of those. I got it about two years ago and have never used it. I couldn't figure out how to work it."

Really trying hard not to come across sarcastically, I replied, "That is what the manual is for."

"Oh, mine had several big, thick books with it. They were all in foreign languages, Spanish, French, Latin, English. I just couldn't figure it out."

Chowhound and I cut our eyes toward each other at the same time. Did she really say that? We were both dying to bust out laughing but she stopped at the gift counter a few feet away. So, we held it in. The longest five minutes of the night.

Later, she walked up beside Daredevil as he was talking on his cell phone. Suddenly, she bends around sticking her chest and face right in his, stands back up and then laughs, "Oh, I thought he was talking to himself."

OMG. Was she for real? The boys were loving it. Chowhound kept snickering about her jiggling everywhere. She would walk away from the table and all three boys would about fall out of their chairs just to get a glimpse. Is a mother supposed to witness this?

She had the last laugh though. She had promised Chowhound that "they would take care of him". I don't even want to know what kind of perverted thoughts went through his seventeen year old testosterone riddled brain. She went over to the bimbo station and started clapping the others towards her. Yes, that's correct. She started clapping and one would join her and start clapping and slowing they all migrated towards the blond leader and stood in the corner clapping. Then, like a parade of chicks they headed towards the table. Four blonds and one brunette. She must have been the ugly duckling. They gathered near Chowhound and the leader asked him to stand up. She pulled his chair away from the table and then instructed him to stand up on it. She proceeded to hand him two menus, one for each hand and then told him to cluck like a chicken while they sang. His eyes got like saucers.

"What?"

"Flap your arms and cluck like a chicken."

It was effing hilarious. I had tears in my eyes.

Happy Birthday Chowhound.