There are never any hot chicks at Bob Evans (tm)

Mental note: Open a coffee shop.

Consider yourself asked to tell the story.

Ellen Cherry, you ROCK!

I visited a new coffee shop this morning. I was actually kind of impressed at how hot all of the girls behind the counter were (it takes a lot of work to be cute that early). Then, I realized there was probably some asshole chauvinistic owner behind the hiring decisions. He’s creating his own menagerie of cute, overly-enthusiastic at 7 a.m., chikies…
Oh come on…they were probably his daughters! (flashing back on a Seinfeld episode.)

I shall assume each and every one of you who quoted TwoOnSunday thinks I rock, yes I will! :stuck_out_tongue:

Well… where do the hot, horny women go to eat? Oh that’s right I forgot, they’re in their sweats with thick socks on, drinking herbal tea, watching “Lost”, and eating Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. Hot, horny, thick sock wearing, tea drinking, ice cream eating, TV watching tramps.

I don’t know about the rest of the hot women, but I prefer eating Ben and Jerry’s “Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz” ice cream.

I’m going to have to hire some consultants to pick out a get-well card while I’m convalescing from a tragic lotion accident.

Once upon a time, a friend and I drove the 87 miles from the small town where we lived to Pittsburgh, that we might see a Pitt production of Hamlet. Before the play, we ate hamburgers at Hemmingway’s, an eatery still in business on the Pitt campus. The play was good.
The hamburger, alas, did not agree with me. My friend, who was driving, didn’t know his way around Pittsburgh. In short order, we were lost and I was doing my best not to soil my britches and the inside of his car with an incipient case of explosive diarrhea.
We drove around for what seemed like hours. I was foetal and whimpering from cramps. Finally, we passed by a Bob Evans which was open. The first open place in miles, I might add. My friend half-carried me inside where I made lengthy, abundant and noisy use of the restroom facilities. The waitress, a motherly sort, fixed me up with some tea and a couple slices of burnt toast which she assured me would help. It did. The manager, a chubby and jovial fellow, gave us very detailed written directions to the highway we needed in order to get home.
Bob Evans is a wonderful place, staffed by saints. I’ll not hear a word against them.

I must firmly disagree with the OP.

I, myself, used to frequent a certain bob evan’s on the east side of Indianapolis as my little brother was extremely fond of their chicken tenders. Yes, the chicken tenders. So I used to take him there at least once a week to make the little bugger happy. In my journies to Bob Evan’s I ran across many many old people and the occasional gay waiter. However, there were a plethora of beautiful waitresses at this location. I was still in or just out of high school and these girls were high school age. I ended up dating at least 4 girls that I had met at the Bob Evan’s. If any of you are reading this, I didn’t call because I joined the Army. =)