I take babies to Hooter's to get laid and end up ignored

Yesterday I went to Hooter's with Card Shark. Card Shark doesn't have a baby of his own so he brought his girl friend's baby. We had this funny idea that you could pick up on chicks with a baby. We also wanted photographs of the kid surrounded by young women with large breasts in tight tops.

None of that really happened. We got seated at the restaurant by the only ugly waitress at Hooter's. Most of the female customers ignored us. The only interaction we had with anyone was with the table next to us, and that was a couple of 60 year old men who thought the baby was cute.
That's not the kind of response I wanted.

When I started blogging 5 years ago I had no idea what kind of people would be interested in reading anything I wrote. I assumed almost nobody and I was right about that. But I figured there would always be a small target audience that I could find. I mean by that male, perverted, and incapable of getting laid by regular women. The kind of guy that doesn't mind if his woman is fat, if the fat is the hardened belly of pregnancy instigated by another man's seed.

Instead of hanging out with men like Eliot Spitzer and conversing about our illegal proclivities, I have my fangirls. To a one, my fangirls think that I am scientist or doctor or pharmacist. They figure all my lower class ramblings are affectations of a slumming intellectual. When they find out that I really am nothing more than a cashier, they get disappointed. They tell me they aren't, and I try to believe them, but I think we both no that's can't be true.

That's becaise women project their rescue fantasies onto men. A rescue fantasy means that every man you meet should be able to ride up to you on a silver horse and throw you on the back and take off with you. A doctor can do that. A doctor has money and a doctor can be funny when he slums his way around in the ghetto by playing dumb. I have no money and I have to convince you that making veiled references to Lukacs means I am a secret intellectual and not just some kind of troubled, perverted slacker.

It works for some of you. If you "googled" Lukacs you were probably astounded that I'd read him in the original German and translated his work into English. After I am dead from pancreatic cancer (who's convenient warning signs include upset stomach, yellow shitting, and back pain) my x wife will release all my notes on Marx that she claims she threw away, but I know she didn't because that would mean she spent 5 years with a loser, and not the the 5 formative years of a man bent on making the most important contribution to critiquing Hegelian Dialectics since Hiroshi Uchida 20 years ago. But I digress.

What I meant to say was that I always kinda envisioned this website as fraternity prank. And not some kind of real dialogue with actual humans. I am not sure on how to do that as I don't get any real practice with real humans, because all my real friends think it's fun to cart your baby around downtown all the while accosting tall, thin, fertile women with the opportunity to buy a real life baby, so that they can have all the fun of dressing up baby, and none of the pain of childbirth. "Get a baby ..keep your body." Keep in mind I am 37 and giggling like a school girl with my friend.

The whole time I can't understand why all these smartly dressed women who look so desperate for babies and husbands when they walk the downtown shops by themseleves aren't even vaguely interested in the idea. We can't even get one girl to stop and talk to us when even a crazy christian on a megaphone quietly explaining to 20 something potheads girls why his loving god will be sending them to everlasting hell fires because they have sinned against him and thereby created some kind of space/absence of his light can. I was glad when he finally shut up because he scaring the baby.