Fitting In
Without men around to impress, I discovered my own taste—what desire meant beyond the desire to be desirable.
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Posts Tagged: Hooters
Hooters Chicken
I applied for a job at Hooters on a dare a few weeks before my nineteenth birthday. A shoe salesman who worked across from me at the mall told me he’d pay me twenty dollars to apply.
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A FAN’S NOTES, THE RUMPUS SPORTS COLUMN #45: Postseason, Hooters
My friend Snake (he specifically requested this pseudonym) is an English professor, a Tennyson scholar, and a rabid New England Patriots fan.
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