Lorraine and I were walking out of Taipei’s Hooters where we had lunch . . . as we turned to head down the street, a voice from out of nowhere says “Brian David Phillips” . . . well, when I hear my name I usually stop, turn, and stand like a mammoth with it’s eyes caught in train headlights . . . there was a nicely dressed good looking white guy sitting at one of the outdoor tables with a couple ladies and he introduced himself as someone who reads the Life of Brian blog regularly. Lorraine found it amusing that he recognized me from the blog . . . although my hair is quite a bit longer than the blogopic right now. She also tells me that she knew I didn’t know him when we turned around as she didn’t recognize him and she has absolute faith that she would know pretty much any foreigners I know . . . the certainty and conviction of a wife who is pretty much not even close to being wrong on that point. although I may actually know a couple “foreigners” here who she doesn’t know, albeit most of them would be clients . . . as far as social waiguoren, she’s not even a little bit far from being right as socially my identity is pretty much entwined with hers (long before we married, we’d already pretty much become one social entity . . . kind of like a borg thing, yes, marriage is becoming your own little borg colony and just like borg, you’re completely happy when it happens).
Well, in any case, after we did the shake shakes of the hands and the howdy howdies, we went off a bit and Lorraine tells me she could tell that my little moment of celebritaire made my day. At least I know someone who is a real human in real space with actual flesh and bones reads this stuff at least some of the time. Looking forward to the fansign, in any case.
As to Hooters, we enjoyed the meal. It’s a nice place and we find it is neither smokey or crowded the few times we have been there for lunch. Of course, that doesn’t bode well for the restraunt if the number of staff running around outnumber the customers three to one. We aren’t really into smokey places or places known for a drinking crowd but Hooters is fine if you pick your time to go . . . albeit, while the girls are very nice, they are not exactly the sort of build you would expect at a place named after women’s boobs. Of course, the Chinese explanation of the restraunt’s name in the old menus when the first opened is silly . . . they make a claim that Hooters refers to the eyes of an owl. The eyes of an owl? WTF! Hooters are owls, as in the hooting of the owl, the sound, not the eyes and that is NOT where the name of the place comes from. It’s as if the folks who opened the restraunt here don’t have a clue as to what hooters are. Sheesh. Hooters are good, good, good, and it’s a nice restraunt but owl eyes have nothing to do with the mix. Sure, the logo has the owl’s eyes really big but that’s so they can correspond to a woman’s nipples when they wear the t-shirt. Boobs, nipples, hooters.
Weird sidebar over.
It was nice to meet someone in realisphere who connects in blogosphere. Koolness.
