My Finest Hour........The H@@ters Post Revisited

Well, here's the thing. Well 2 things actually.

1. If you EVER post a comment at The Pioneer Woman and she takes a moment to say a word or two to you.....and visit your blog(blush)............and then she links (just LINKS mind you) to that old post..........you will get DOUBLE the traffic on your blog from PW folks having a look-see. So, I figure give the people what they want! ANd thanks for stopping by. This is a meager wisp of a journal as compared to the photo-takin', cookie bakin' and calandar makin' Pioneer Woman......but who can compare.

2. This was without a doubt one of my greatest achievements and it still makes me laugh to think about it. So I'll use any hint of an excuse to post it again!

Withou further ado.....(and because the turkey burgers are going to burn)...I give you "The H@@ters Post"

Don’t judge me.

First of all, this is one of those posts, where you try desperately to remember all of the people whom you have given your blog address to.

First. Some History:
For the past 8-10 years, Race and I have had a standing argument over H**ters Restaurant.Race is an instigater and He loves to bring it up when he has nothing better to do. He doesn’t even GO there ….he just gets great joy by arguing with me about it. And he LOVES to get me hopping mad, and then say something like, “Sometimes, you are just too easy”. AHhhh!!! (Did I mention the 10 years?)

Now. I’m not out picketing in front of H**ter’s. But what REALLY gets me is the whole-(insert mocking whiney man voice here) “It’s just a good place to eat….nothing more. They just have really great wings.”
I REALLY hate that.
Just say it: “Men go there to stare at b**bs and eat a $10 hamburger”.

Well,I say, you can do that at home, eat a better burger, and save 10 bucks.

Anyway, you get the picture. YEARS of me falling into his carefully laid trap, bickering away to make my point, and then to have him walk off laughing to himself.

8-10 Llloooonnng years pass……………........

The day before Race leaves to go overseas this last time, he once again, draws me deep into the great depths of the “H**ters Dispute”, and the following words were exchanged:

Me: “So, you wouldn’t care if I worked there?”

Race: “No, way. The money would be good”

Me:”OH, REALLY??!”

Race: “Yeah. But, besides, hon……I don’t think that YOU could get a job there.” (snicker,snicker)


Ahem. Well, by golly, that sounded an awful lot like a challenge.

I know, I know…..I should have better things to do. I actually DO have better things to do. And while it was out of character for me…..I JUST.COULDN’T.LET.THIS.ONE.GO.

My brain began to feverishly develop a plan. If I could win…… just this once…..if I could, I would NEVER, and I mean NEVER have to win another argument with Race as long as I lived.

Yes, yes…it would work……it was almost too easy. I began to weave bits of a story. Dropping tiny hints on our limited phone calls, and going into slightly more detail in emails. I was baiting him like a poacher baits pheasants in somebody else’s woods.

Ohhhhh…I was crafty. I was sly. I lied through my teeth. Oh so careful was I
.”I didn’t think that I would actually get hired. I only applied because I thought that it would be funny. I was only going to work for 2 weekends.”, I lied.
I covered all the bases. It was all very convincing. I wanted to add in things like, "The kids are at the kitchen table eating more hot wings".

But no. had to be careful. If I overdo it, he'll be on to me.

The words of Scarlett O’Hara kept haunting me, “Now aren’t you a cool lie, Mellie.”

A cool lie indeed.

But it would take more than lies to pull this off.

It was going to take some help from good ole’ @bay and some poor nameless H**ter gal in Texas who was selling her uniform. She’d had enough of feeling like a piece of meat every day and gone on to bigger and better things. And good for you, nameless H**ter gal!! Thanks for the uniform and the ultra quick shipping. I honestly don’t know how you girls wear that tiny, wretched uniform every day. I can honestly say it is the most uncomfortable thing I have ever put on. Seriously.

The last thing that I sent was the picture, with a lie saying that it was taken before my first training day. I added stuff about how awful my day was, and how I didn't even get to keep the tip money, because I was still in training(sniff,sniff).

He read it. He saw it. He bought it.

For 24 hrs, as far as he knew, I was a H**ters girl.

He called.
As it turns out, he, in fact DOES NOT want his wife working serving up hot wings to the hungry men at H**ters! (GASP!)

“Well,.......what should I do?”, I asked innocently.

“Well, for starters….don’t go back!”, he said emphatically.

*A pause*


“I got you.” I said.


Victory. It is mine. MINE!!! I have won. This is big for me. REALLY big.

I never win. But this time, I got him. I actually got him.

Race laughed. Yep, I got him.

The picture that secured my victory:
I ended up sending him a 5 x 7 of this picture while he was away.The words "Call me", and a fake# were scribbled across it. LOL!


Yes, I do believe that I have taken the homeschooling blogs to a new low. And, yes mom, I do have better things to occupy my time.

The uniform is now available for a small fee, and appropriate documentation.

It is finished. I am triumphant. Don't judge me.

Love you, Race!!!!!

Homeschoolin' at H**ters!

In the photo,please note the construction paper nametag...for authenticity. The socks? Those are Austin's....best I could do on short notice.
It sort of looks like I am a super hero, don't you think? With my hands on my hips like that. What would that be?.......Super H**ter? Super H**ters?? Wonder H**ters?? If that shirt smashed you any more than it does, I'd be called Uni-H**ter! Bwahahaha!
Please note that no actual H**ters girls were harmed in the making of this picture. And I do apologize to the reputable H.gals worldwide for my gross misrepresentation.