Listen, Twin Peaks. Overall, you’re my favorite breastaurant. I won’t excuse the management of your Waco store for foolishly courting outlaw motorcycle clubs (what the hell did you think was going to happen?), but all of the locations that I’ve been to up here (both Fort Worth stores and one on Mockingbird in Dallas) have met or exceeded my expectations in the ways that Hooters routinely fails. Your servers aren’t nearly as jaded, and the quality of your food is arguably better. But when your servers ask if I want my beer “man-sized or girl-sized,” I kinda want to tell you to go fuck yourself.

Obviously, a coquettish and breastastic server with short shorts and bare abs gently ribbing me about buying a smaller beer is part of your concept of “fun,” but you (via your servers’ outfits) have already hooked me in to drop $11 on a BLT — clearly, I’m already susceptible to the upsell. Why do you have to rub it in my face? “Oh, you don’t want it man-sized?” asks Tittany or Reboobca or whichever otherwise enchanting server happens to be taking my order. It makes me think of that scene in Once Upon a Time in Mexico, where Johnny Depp asks Danny Trejo if he’s a “Mexi-can or a Mexi-can’t?”

It’s not that I find it emasculating, and, frankly, it’s way more than fair for a person who’s been made into an object of corporate sexual objectification to throw sexist attitude back at dudes who’ve arrived to ogle her body over a bowl of chipotle queso. But when a Twin Peaks server says “girl-sized,” it’s demeaning to every woman working in the restaurant. And if Assley or Isababea asked Ronda Rousey if she wanted a “girl-sized” beer, well, let’s just say that there’d be a lot of shaking in a lot of pretty boots. Oh, sure. The waitress is just following orders, and I suppose that when a woman takes a job at Twin Peaks, she knows what she’s getting into –– lots of money, presumably. I also doubt many female employees are there to make statements about feminism. If I had to guess, Twin Peaks probably discourages its employees from turning up the volume on the ol’ gender politics radio. And most of the restaurant’s target market is probably fine catching flak for ordering an ostensibly wimpier-sized beer.

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Is my gripe unreasonable? Is it like bitching about a stripper pretending to be interested in what I’m telling her until I run out of Hamiltons? Maybe. But it would be nice if I could go to Twin Peaks and order a beer with the understanding that I’m already there to spend more cash and tip more handsomely than I would at a Chili’s. Part of that is because Twin Peaks’ food is more expensive (though it’s commensurate with the quality) but also because A.) my previous experiences remind me that I’m going to get good service and B.) I know I’m skeezy enough to eat at a restaurant where good food is more of a nice bonus. I can’t speak for other Twin Peaks diners, but I know of plenty of other places that grill a better burger for less that I would go to but only if someone dragged me there and paid my way.

I also know that the 22-oz. man-sized draft at Twin Peaks is a better deal, because I’m probably going to order at least two of the 10-oz. girl-sized beers anyway, which actually increases the price of my ticket and puts more tip money in a server’s pockets. If anything, having to order multiple girl-sized beers gives she and I more things to talk about, more chances for me to try out terrible lines, and more reasons not to go to Hooters. –– Steve Steward


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